#might adjust my bill a bit :P

[purpleskelet0n]

Sonic plush meme but make it billford

og image:

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR ELEVEN

in which a line is crossed, and a lie is told.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, fingering, oral (m receiving, allusions to f receiving), p in v (be like eddie and r! use protection!), use of mean nicknames (slut), ass slapping, hair pulling, minors dni

→ wc: 7.5k+

→ a/n: the smut has arrived! shout out to @abibliophobiaa and @myosotisa my loves for helping me, but also horny hours in general haha. the pep talks were very much needed and very appreciated.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

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11:00 ──────ㅇ─────────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

A drink. What you need is a drink. 

The moment Robin and Steve brought up the small get together, you’d agreed instinctually. It had been a long month, hard and full of life throwing unexpected punches your way, and the only way you could think to soothe it was with terrible mixed drinks in your friend’s kitchen. 

First, it had been the tire on your bike popping. Which in itself wasn’t a catastrophe, but you realized very quickly that going out and about around campus was nearly impossible on foot. You’d shown up to most classes late, not adjusting for the fact you were far slower when walking across campus than you were riding. And then it was your classes; the teachers were already upset as it was in your smaller classes regarding your perpetual tardiness, but to top it all off, every assignment seemed to not be enough. No matter what you submitted, what changes you made to essays sent back to you, it was becoming more impossible to maintain a resemblance of a respectable GPA. You’d nearly flunked a test in your humanities class, when you’d asked for a professor to go back a slide for notes they’d glared and refused the reasonable request. When you’d not understood a question on your literature homework and sent an email plenty of days in advance, the teacher only got back to you once the due date had passed. 

And the dates. The terrible, terrible dates of the month. 

There was the first guy, who had been kind enough. A simple meeting over coffee and by the time the lattes were cold, you knew there’d be no second date. That was fine. You could live with that.

The second guy had more potential. A first date in a bar was almost a red flag, but after a fun game of pool, you’d agreed to meet again. The second date was at a restaurant that you learned he’d taken his ex-girlfriend to; actually, you’d learned a bit too much about his ex-girlfriend that night. She was the only thing he could talk about, and when you’d later explained that over text for being your reason against a third date, he’d called you every crude name in the book. 

And the final guy. A guy you’d really liked, that you’d been messaging back and forth since a month before. He was a busy guy, a bartender and full time student, and you understood – you really did. But he was charismatic and lured you in over the phone, and you hadn’t been so giddy for a date in a while. It felt like there were sparks, like he might be the one.

He didn’t show up. Last night, you’d sat like a fool at the restaurant you two agreed upon for two hours before realizing he wasn’t showing. Sipped your way through two ciders, even picked on an appetizer of fries, telling yourself he’d show up. He was just busy. He’d show up. 

He never showed up. He didn’t even text you. The waiter had waived your bill for the night, but his look of pity only made your stomach twist worse. 

Pathetic. You felt pathetic. 

“We’re all getting together at my place tonight,” Steve had whispered to you during class that morning as you two were packing up things as the lecture ended, “Everyone’s just going to hang out, drink, let loose. You should come.” 

And so you came, overly optimistic about the entire idea. You didn’t even think to ask if Eddie was going to be here – even he couldn’t dampen your excitement at a break after the month you’d had, even with his recent mean streak. 

Mean. You’d never thought after that first night you’d be able to describe him that way. Cold, sure. Callous, perhaps. Indifferent, of course. But mean? Mean didn’t seem like something others saw Eddie as genuinely capable of. Steve always ranted about how good of a guy he was, Robin would tell fun stories of nights out with him and how much of a good time he was, Nancy considered the guy her best friend. You knew your new friends, and you didn’t take them as being the type to befriend someone so unkind. 

But you didn’t see the good guy, the fun guy, the best friend. Whenever Eddie Munson was around you, his guard was up and his words were sharp. They cut through your unbridled disappointment with ease, reminding you that you were not his friend. You weren’t even sure if you were an acquaintance. 

And sure, you took it too far at the diner. You could admit that, even before Robin scolded you. But to see him sitting with someone not from your friend group, to see him being so kind and endearing to someone new, had burned you with fury like no other. If he could treat some blonde he’d surely matched with on a dating app so sweetly, why couldn’t he afford you the same warmth? Someone he saw nearly weekly? 

So you went for blood. Except, you were the only one wounded in the end, after the silent treatment you’d had to endure as you watched Eddie clench his jaw and pretend you didn’t exist. 

“What are you drinking tonight?” Steve smiles when you enter his kitchen, brows still furrowed in careful thought over your miserable month, “I’m guessing something strong?” 

“The strongest thing you’ve got, Harrington,” you reply, trying to shake back into excitement. It was going to be fun. You were going to drink with friends, partake in silly conversations no one would remember come morning, and you were going to have fun. 

Steve holds up a bottle of vodka, a name brand you don’t care to acknowledge, along with a 2-liter of Coke, “Think this’ll work?” 

You nod, and he pours. When he hands you the crystal cup reeking of overpoured alcohol, you take a sip and nod. 

Oh, yeah. Two of these and I won’t even remember Mr. Stood-Me-Up. 

“I heard about your date,” Steve means well, but the reminder is the exact opposite of what you want. You’re quick to glare at Robin, who throws her hands up in defense. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you quip, taking a larger second sip. If you weren’t trying to pace yourself, you’d probably chug the entire thing, “Not much to talk about, anyways. Got some free food and alcohol out of it, at least.” 

“That’s good! I bet you dodged a bullet.”

I probably didn’t. “We can only hope.” 

Steve pours himself a drink as well as Robin, and you can hear Nancy and Jonathan already chattering in the living room. No sign of Eddie so far. Maybe he wasn’t coming, and you’d finally caught a break. 

“To forgetting the names of men who suck,” Steve chides as he raises his glass, and Robin mirrors him. You hesitate for a moment, a fraction of a second.

You were starting to believe it wasn’t them, it was you. You were the common denominator of all the terrible dates. Did sparks not fly with the Coffee Boy because you dampened the fuse? Was two-date-chump only talking to you about his exes because you didn’t provide anything interesting enough to take his mind off them? Surely, it had to be your fault that you were stood up the night before. Surely. 

You pull from your pity party, and nimbly raise your glass. The rim hardly brushes that of your friends’ cups, but you all throw back your poisons of choice regardless. They don’t seem to notice the way you’ve begun to float within your head, the way you’re crashing through violent waves of pathetic self-hatred. 

It was you. You’re the problem, and you’re the only one who can solve it. Eventually. 

Robin is dramatically gagging on what you think might be redbull and vodka as Steve silently grimaces at his straight whiskey, clearing his throat before he says, “Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about last night, but Robin mentioned you’ve had a few dates this last month. Anything worth sharing? Any luck?” 

There’s a snappy remark of clearly not on the tip of your tongue when the doorbell rings down the hall, and the three of you all turn your heads as Nancy calls out that she’s got it. 

—

HOUR ELEVEN - 2:00 AM

Once Eddie starts kissing you, he can’t stop. 

It isn’t soft, nor caring – the moment his hands meet the flesh of your hips, it’s bruising. He doesn’t even break for air as he fumbles with the knob blindly, giving a final twist of his keys before the door swings open behind you and the two of you stumble backwards into the sanctuary of his apartment. It’s all teeth, it’s all desperation, it’s the accumulation of a year of snide remarks and low-blow insults all coming to head as he kicks the door shut behind you and spins so that your back meets the wood. 

Your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck and– oh God, when did you reach up and grab at his hair in the first place? 

He groans at the force of your fist, and it suddenly doesn’t matter. You don’t care how they got there – you only care to keep them there. 

He finally breaks the kiss, spit trailing between your lips as you both gasp out breaths, “You-” he dives back in, capturing your lips between his in a harsh and quick action before another break, “fucking-” another break, another gasp. He remains close enough that each harsh exhale flows right into your mouth, down your throat and into your lungs, “infuriate-” this time, he pauses, not moving back in for another kiss as his forehead is pressed hard against yours, eyes wide open and boring into yours, “me.” 

The venom that laces the words don’t scare you. It’s all verbal aposematism, rehearsed and practiced hatred that bears no weight, not anymore. Not as his hips are digging into yours and another tug of his hair has him putty in your hands. 

You know the dance well. You know the next step. 

“Good.” 

His next kiss is even more vicious, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and making you whine into him, one hand finally unraveling from his curls to find purchase in fisting the leather of his jacket. There’s a fine line that neither of you are daring to cross, only toeing as teeth and tongues clash. 

This time, when he pulls away, you’re the one chasing after him. You don’t care about breathing; you care about his lips on yours, sucking all the smoke and oxygen from your lungs. 

 He’s the one to finally cross the line. A hand comes up to your throat, not nearly as rough as it should be, as he keeps you in place with the back of your head pressed to his front door. A pleading mewl leaves your lips of its own accord.

 “Oh, sweetheart, don’t be so desperate.”

The line’s been crossed, the chords all snapping between you two. There are no invisible strings tying you to the man before you, the man that has you aching between your trembling thighs and erratic breaths. Only gravity.

“Me? Desperate?” your voice nearly fails you as you lean into his touch surrounding your throat, preening forward so that your lips brush his, “I’m not the one fucking off to porn magazines that look like you, pretty boy.” 

You’re both on the same side of the line now as you watch his eyes darken. It’s a sensitive topic, a bruise you’ve chosen to prod out in the hopes that he’ll break at the same alarming rate as you. 

You need him to fuck you. You need him to use you, to throw any caution or revelations to the wind. You want him to push you so far you can’t remember your own name, let alone all the emotions that travel the channels between you. 

“Think you can do any better than my hand, baby?” he questions as he buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, breath and lips leaving a buzz along the skin he comes in contact with. His fingers tighten ever so slightly, and your head rushes with a weightless bliss. 

Your pulse is against his thumb, drumming beneath the pressure of it as you reply, “Do you think you can do any better than mine?” 

A dozen insinuations layer the words, and he catches every single one. Your lashes flutter into your eyesight, lids growing heavy as he lifts his face from your shoulder and looks at you wickedly, grin spreading treacherously. 

“Are you trying to tell me you touch yourself to me?” he taunts, pressing closer, “You thinkin’ of me at night when you get lonely, all desperate and pathetic, wrapped up in your own sheets? Do you wish it was my fingers, and not yours?” 

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. “In your dreams, Munson.” 

“Of course,” he chuckles, “I thought that was a given. Don’t tell me you’re so dumb you’ve figured out I get myself off to your lookalikes, but not that I dream about you, sweetheart.” 

The thought of it makes your stomach flutter, your thighs clench. He’s quick to shove his knee between your legs, letting you drop so that your crotch nearly brushes his thigh. But the distance remains and no relief from friction comes, he makes sure of it as his fingers finally lift slightly, letting the blood rush back to your head and into your cheeks. 

“Is that what you were thinking about in the bathroom?” 

His movements finally falter. You almost have the upperhand again, you almost have him back in your palms, back down to your height in cockiness. 

You take his silence in stride, a smirk gracing your own face, “Oh, you were, weren’t you?” you pause, and drop a hand to his torso, nails raking over his shirt and making him suck in a sharp breath, “You thought I wouldn’t hear? You were being so awfully loud, y’know. Surprised you didn’t say my name.”

He breathes back to life, hand unwrapping from your throat to grip your chin, his thumb just barely making contact with your bottom lip as he tugs softly, “You would have fuckin’ liked that, wouldn’t you? As if I didn’t feel you get so hot and bothered by me on the bike,” it’s your turn to freeze, realizing your fears were valid, and he laughs lowly, “Oh, yeah, baby. I felt that. Hard to miss when you were clinging to me like I was your goddamn savior. What were you thinking about, hm? I bet you were thinkin’ about just that – me moaning for you, cumming for you. I bet it drove you fucking crazy, didn’t it?” 

“What were you thinking about in the bathroom?” you whisper as his thumb presses harder into your lip, “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” 

Your hand finally drops to its destination, cupping him through his sweatpants, wrapping around his girth. 

He’s big. Bigger than you had expected, and he knows you’re shocked by the way you still once more, cocking his head at you with the utmost confidence. 

He’s fucking lucky to be packing. It’d be a shame to be such an asshole and not have the ability to back up all his talk. 

“You want me to be honest right now?” he asks, a thread of seriousness binding his words. You don’t hesitate to nod, even with his grip on your chin, “I was thinking about your mouth. Thinking about those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. I was thinking about you on your knees and those eyes looking up at me, all teary as I fucked your mouth.” 

Your grip on him tightens, and you make the daring move to suck the tip of his thumb into your mouth, making eye contact as your tongue swirls around it. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, throwing his head back, his grip immediately falling slack on your face. You see the opportunity and take it, surging forward to latch your lips onto his exposed neck. You start with light kisses, pressing them in rapid succession down the vein that lays poorly hidden by the stretched skin, pausing once you get closer to where the expanse meets his jaw.

“I’m trying to,” you taunt before sucking hard. 

He moans loudly, echoing off the walls of his apartment, the hand still on your waist turning into an even more impossibly tight grip. The hand that once held your face has come up to tangle in your hair, gripping you by the roots and pulling you away just as the blood vessels on the surface have burst and bloomed in full shades of red and pink. 

Your scalp burns as he pulls you to be face to face with him, eyes hard as you keep your hand on his clothed dick. You can feel him twitch as your palm at him, no longer caring about being desperate. You were desperate. You wanted him to give up the game, set aside the chase, and ruin you. You wanted his neighbors to hear as you chanted his name like a prayer, as every memory of every reason as to why you resented him fled your system with each thrust of his hips that could pin you to the wall. 

“Is that what you want?” he’s no longer teasing you, his tone sounding as if he were asking for permission now rather than taunting you any further, “You want me to ruin you, sweetheart?” 

The chase is nearing its end, and you nearly shatter with anticipation. 

With one last trick up your sleeve, one last attempt to break him, you shrug as if you aren’t flushed and terribly flustered to the point of no return, “I guess. That’s one way to pass the time.” 

When he breaks, it is sudden, and it is unkind. One moment, your break is aching from being pressed against wood, and your core is throbbing as you consider dropping to his thigh to find your own relief. The next, he’s throwing you around carelessly as his mouth slots to yours once more. 

Just as it doesn’t matter how your hands found their way into his hair, it doesn’t matter how he pulls you from the door and navigates you to his couch. Your mind isn’t focused on where your body ends up, it’s focused on the feeling of his lips, chapped and pressing to yours eagerly. It’s focused on the way that the weight of his hands pressed tightly to your lower back feels. It’s focused on the overwhelming spice of his cologne, the smell of the night air still clinging to his cheek, the taste of his salt water as you dive under and let yourself begin to drown. 

He’s consuming you, lungs and all. Limbs and all. Mind and all. 

It’s a bad decision. This is going to be both of your downfalls, and you should stop before it goes too far.

You don’t stop it. Neither does he. All he does is throw you down to sit on his couch as he falls to his knees in front of you, bringing a palm to each knee and spreading your legs as he settles between them.

He’s the prettiest you’ve seen him yet. Even prettier than the first night. His lips are swollen pink, puffy and still lingering with your spit. Your mark on him, the first of many you need to leave, right along with the bruise on his neck. You wonder how hard you’d have to bite to bring blood tonight, you wonder which other spots on his neck would make him melt against you as you explored him fervently and left a whole collection of bruises that spell out your message very clearly – he’s mine for tonight.

His chest heaves as his eyes stare up into yours, hands gripping each of your knees. Even through the cotton, your skin is burning from his touch, your wildfire still thriving as you navigate this ocean he’s thrown the two of you into. A man-made river, more like it. It was made by his hand, it was created treacherously and with purpose against you, and yet you’re still here wading in it, also by his hand. 

“Tell me to stop,” he begs, unexpected as his hands squeeze you, his eyes zeroing in on his palms as they travel up to your thighs, pulling you closer and making your back slide down the cushion from the position you’re seated in, “Tell me you hate me.” 

For a second, you almost tell him you can’t. You can’t tell him to stop. Not as your leg lifts and his shoulder fits perfectly into the ditch of your knee, not as his hands creep further up to the band of the borrowed sweatpants. And once his fingers curl into the waist, knuckles pressing to your soft skin, you know you won’t. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, making his eyes shoot up to meet yours again, “I hate you, but don’t you fucking dare stop.” 

Quickly, at an almost impossible rate of speed, he yanks the sweats down off of you. They’re tossed behind him into a pile on his living room floor, uncared for and quickly forgotten. 

Once your skin is exposed to him, he’s planting messy kisses linearly up your shin, over your inner knee, until he reaches your thighs. Marks are left in his wake, shades of deep maroon fading lilac as he nips and sucks against them just as you had to his neck. 

“Show me yours,” he mumbles into your skin, fingertips pressing indents as he openly mouths over the hickies left behind. 

“What?”

“I showed you mine, now show me yours,” he insists with wild eyes, hair hardly contained by the bun that once contained the curls, “When you touch yourself, what do you think about?” 

“You,” you sigh out as he presses another kiss to you, even higher up now, growing dangerously close to your cunt. 

“What about me?” he pushes, staring up as he removes contact, “Use your words, baby.” 

“I-” you can’t think clearly, mind muddled with smoke and the image of him there before you, on his knees, “I think about your fingers instead of mine. How thick they are, how they’d feel.” 

His smile shows little satiation, “Go on.”

You’re so focused on getting the words out, you nearly don’t notice a hand loosening its grip on your thigh, inching up to your panties, playing with the lace edges. 

“I think about how deep you’d go, how you’d curl your fingers just- fuck,” you cut off with a gasp when his fingers slide beneath cotton, brushing over your wet folds. 

“Just fuck?” he mimics, pouting slightly, “Afraid I’ve never heard that one before. Might need you to demonstrate for me. How do I curl my fingers just fuck?” 

“Fuck you,” you whine, writhing beneath his touch as your ankles lock behind his head. 

“I’m trying to,” he pitches his voice to mock your own, and you regret ever saying the words to him. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head, “God, you want me to fuck you so bad, it’s making you stupid.” 

His fingers stop teasing you as he finds your entrance, circling only the tip of his pointer finger to gather the slickness. Your hips buck, the desperation clawing its way through your entire body now, leaving ash and destruction in its path before Eddie brings an arm across your waist to hold you down to the couch firmly. 

“Beg for it,” he commands, voice shooting straight into your chest, “Be a good girl and say please, yeah?” 

His finger still circles your entrance, teasing but never quite pressing in, leaving you a whimpering mess. You begin to wonder if there will be any sign of how hard his forearm is pinned against you. 

A battle of both your prides. He can feel you burning up now, he sees the flames dancing and he’s willing to play with them rather than give in to you. 

You have to bite your lip to avoid letting the please on the tip of your tongue slip out for him. You’re still fighting him, still defying him. 

“I have been far nicer to you than you deserve,” he continues his taunts, a grin growing when he catches the way you’re physically holding back, “We both know it, so just say it. Say the word, and I’ll keep playing nice.” 

His finger breeches your entrance slightly, and you gasp, head thrown back immediately, “When have you ever been nice?” 

He tsks, removing the tip of his finger, letting it glide up between your folds before it stops just short of your clit, “Oh, I’m always nice. You just never seem to notice.” 

You think about it again. All the acts of kindness that went under the radar, all the times you’d buried in an effort to continue to harbor detestation for the man before you. He’s right – he probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s far more correct than you’d give him credit for at this moment. 

“Please fuck me,” you whisper to the ceiling, before swallowing hard and leaning your chin back down, looking him in his eyes as you decide to give him more than he asked for, “Please ruin me.” 

You’ve watched a mirage of emotions flush across his face on every possible occasion. Anger, distaste, aggression, laughter, annoyance. But you’ve never seen want quite like this grace his features. 

“Gladly.” 

His fingertip circles your clit, once, twice, three times, applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying out before he’s removing his forearm and nearly tearing your underwear to move it to the side and thrusting two fingers into your desperate cunt immediately. 

You sob out and nearly double over, the sting and stretch making you keen as he wastes no time. You’ve said the magic word, you’ve played his game, and now, he’s returning the favor. 

He’s playing nice. And, God, is nice quite the word to describe what he’s doing to you as he pumps his fingers into you, thrusting them in as deep as his knuckles allow before he curls them and brushes the spot that could make you scream with the right skill set.

He has the skill set. He notes your clenching on his fingers, and he curls again, with more intent this time. 

Maybe the thin walls only apply to the inside of his apartment, if you’re lucky. 

“Is this what you want?” he questions, leaning in so close to you that you feel his breath wash over you, “Is this what you meant by ruining you?” 

You nod, finding it becoming increasingly harder to speak as you gasp, “Y- Oh, fuck. Yes. Ple- fuck. Please.” 

He pauses, and you nearly scream out in frustration and protest before he rips your underwear off of you, dragging it down your legs and forcing your ankle to unlock from behind his head as he fights with the flimsy piece of cotton. You expect him to throw it, to let it join the sweats, but instead, he brings them to his face. He’s wolfish as he looks up at you, taking a deep breath in with the cotton pressed to his nose, not saying a word but watching you clench around nothing as he finally tosses the panties over his shoulder.

You see them catch on the coffee table, nowhere near the sweats. 

“Smell so sweet, baby,” he coos, bringing his fingers back to you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips, “I might just have to tast-” 

A phone ringing cuts him off. The trill cuts through the silence, piercing both your ears, making you look at each other in fright. 

“Don’t answer it,” the words burst out before you think them over. You don’t care about your friends right now. You don’t care about the bet.

You care about his fingers back inside you, curling and hitting that spot you’ve spent endless nights fighting to find without success. You care about getting his clothes off of him, of your eyes tracing over his skin and the ink you’ve yet to see. You care about his cock, springing to attention, before he’s sheathing it inside of you and bringing you both to utter bliss. 

A phone call is at the bottom of your priorities right now. You just don’t care. 

“It’s your phone,” he counters, glancing behind the two of you to where your phone is buried in the heap of black clothing, “I’m not answering it. But…”

“I’m not answering it, either.” 

“If we don’t answer-”

“Eddie, I could fucking care less,” you sit up roughly, leaning in as close as you can in the compromising position, “We’re not answering it.”

The phone continues to ring, and he looks between you and it in clear confusion, “They’ll just keep calling-”

“Let them,” you insist, “If you don’t get your dick in me within the next minute, I’ll call this entire thing off,” you add on the last part as you reach out and your legs fall off his shoulders, hands replacing where your knees once rested as you bring his lips into yours. 

Teeth, tongue, salt water, ash. It drowns out the final few rings as you continue to tug on Eddie feverishly, forcing him to rise from his position on the ground and kneel on the edge of the couch, a hand balancing him upright by gripping the back of the couch. Your kiss is all the convincing he needs. 

“Fuck, fine, fine, I-” he cuts off, removing himself from you long enough to shrug off his leather jacket, to reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, yanking it over his head. The bun has officially unraveled to completion, curls flowing down over his collarbones and shoulders. You can’t keep your hands off him, fingertips immediately pressing into the exposed skin, “Just give me a second.” 

He stands, and you whine, making him snicker as he kicks off the grey sweatpants.

“So impatient,” he teases, and you watch his face light up in delight as you can only bite your tongue in response. There’s something more there, something to be considered later. Later, when you aren’t aching for him. Later, when the moment of desperation has passed, when his waves retreat from your shores and you find yourself capable of breathing fresh air once more. 

Later is not now.

The moment he’s down to just his boxers, you’re done waiting, doing as he had for you and dropping your knees to the carpet below. 

“Hey, what are you doin-” he’s interrupted by you leaning forward, looking up at him intently as you kiss the tip of his dick through his boxers. Your lips come in contact with the wet spot clearly forming, and you can see the shiver roll down his spine, “Oh, fuck. What the Hell happened to me… me getting… me getting my dick in you…” He’s trailing off, unable to focus as your fingers slip beneath the waistband and tug down, his dick slapping against his exposed stomach.

“It still counts if you fuck my mouth,” is all you say as his boxers pool at his ankles, and you don’t even wait for him to step out of them. 

Your phone is ringing again. You can feel the vibrations through the floor as you wrap a hand around his base, as you lean forward and place a proper kiss to his leaking tip, swirling your tongue in the precum. 

This time, the two of you don’t argue about answering it. It’s hard to as your mouth is full of him, and his is full of curses.

“Jesus Christ, I- Fuck, right there,” he’s gasping as you wrap your lips around the tip fully, just as you’d done with his thumb, sucking gently and making his hand fly down to rest on the back of your head.

You bob down a few times, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper and deeper until your nose presses into the coarse hairs resting at the base. You pause, letting your nose press into him as you breathe deeply, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes water, just as he described, and you take pride in the way he can’t even look at you now. 

You pull back, letting him drop from your mouth, smiling widely, “Better than your hand, right?” 

“Fuck off,” his hand rest at the back of your head grips the hair there, tangling up as he shoots you a glare. 

“Say it’s better than your hand, and I’ll fuck you off,” you press, letting a hand travel to fondle his balls, pinching the skin delicately, watching his reaction roll through him like waves.

“I- Fucking obviously,” he hisses as you smile, leaning down and pressing kisses along the shaft, “God, of course your mouth is better than my fucking hand. Of course it fucking is.”

“It better be,” you goad before taking him back into your mouth. This time, you suck harder, and his grip on your hair is painful once more. 

“Shit.” 

He’s at a loss for words, devolving into guttural groans and babbling moans as you quicken your pace, determined now.

You wanted to ruin him. After a year of his bullshit, after suffering through every fight and every argument, every passive glare and every turbulent comment, you want to make them man standing over you crumble to pieces. 

Except he wasn’t just crumbling, he was shattering. Splintering apart as his hips started to thrust to meet your mouth, as you choked around him and refused to let up, resorting to stuttering inhales through your nose as you pressed your face back to his pubes, swallowing accidentally and making him nearly scream. 

“Shit. Shit- stop. I’m going to f-fucking cum, stop,” he’s pulling you off of him suddenly, gasping for breath, not letting you refuse and push him over the edge. 

You’re smug as you lean onto your heels, wiping your mouth clean of the spit that strings from your bottom lip to his red tip with the back of your hand. 

“I think I win,” you state plainly, as if you weren’t currently taking heaving breaths, desperate to catch your breath and have his hands back on you. 

“Win? Wh- It’s not a fucking competition,” he scowls, raking a hand down over his face, chest flush.

“It is, and I fucking won.”

“Yeah? You think you won, baby?”He recovers quickly, you’ll give him that. He goes from a complete mess to a force to be reckoned with in an absolute instant, stepping out of his boxers and kicking them from his warpath before he reaches down to tug you to your feet, “In that case, if this is a competition, I think I deserve a second chance.”

You open your mouth to be a smart ass, to say something cruel or something mean, but he steps back before you have the chance. 

The look of want has turned stormy, confident and eliciting. A hurricane beckoning to you as he snaps his fingers. 

“Take your fucking shirt off, and get on the couch, all fours.” 

“I-”

“Now.” 

There’s no more fires, no more oceans, and no more petty arguments left in you. You listen to him. 

You throw off the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, as he goes to one of the tables beside the couch and opens a drawer roughly. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, unhooking your bra as well, fully naked and aware that his eyes weren’t on you yet, “You just keep fucking condoms in your living room?” 

“Who said I was looking for fucking condoms?”

“Oh, my bad. I just assumed. Should have known you were getting me naked just to go searching for fucking Narnia in your drawers.” 

You were wrong. He was looking at you, and you’re only made aware by the sharp slap across your bare ass at the comment. It makes you spin quickly, looking at him and his set jaw. 

“Couch. All fours. Now.” 

“You’re such a sore loser,” you snark, taking a few steps back, trying to ignore the way the sting on your backside has your clit throbbing. 

“You have no idea, baby,” he says without a hint of joking, looking back down into the drawer and continuing to dig as you turn away from him again. 

Despite feeling exposed, you do as you’re told – you get onto the couch on all fours as he requested, knees digging into a surprisingly soft cushion that surely hadn’t felt that way earlier in the night when you’d attempted to sleep on the piece of furniture. You don’t dare to glance back at him over your shoulder when the drawer finally slams shut, hearing his heavy breathing as he returns to you being enough to force you to shut your eyes and take in a sharp gasp. 

“Still feeling like a winner?” his voice winds around you, nearly choking you as you feel a feathering fingertip trail across your lower back. 

“Always,” you lie breathily, voice betraying you as it shakes. 

You feel the couch dip from behind you, legs spreading as Eddie fits himself between your calves, one hand latching onto your hip.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck the brat out of you.” 

Without warning, he’s lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in, taking all the breath from your lungs as you collapse down onto your elbows and your cheek brushes the cushion of the couch. 

It burns, his cock forcing you to stretch and accommodate you, filling you at an unbelievable rate. 

You knew he was fucking big, but you hadn’t considered the consequences until this moment, as he truly feels as if he’s just begun his ruining of you. 

“Fu-” the curse is lost in your throat, a small gasp as you press yourself down even further into the couch, mind swimming. 

“Oh, no,” he tuts, sounding completely unaffected until he leans down over you as he bottoms out. When he gets closer, you catch it – the hitch in his breath, the way he pauses before he can speak, “That won’t do, sweetheart.”

He brings a hand back to your throat, just as he had when you two first entered the apartment, when the fight for dominance first began. It’s more from the pressure of his forearm across your chest, but the pressure is still applied on both sides as he guides you to straighten up your body against him, making him hit new angles that have you hissing out. 

“I said on all fours, not just waving your ass in the air like some slut,” you clench around him at his words, and he chuckles breathlessly, “You like that, don’t you? You like being my fucking slut.” 

You can only moan in response as he slowly pulls back his hips, feeling every inch of him beginning to retreat from you at an agonizing pace. 

“You’re pitiful,” he groans into your ear, pressing his thumb further against your throat, cutting off the circulation for only a moment. Just long enough to send a rush to your head, “You say you hate me, say you can’t fucking stand me, but get cock drunk just from me putting it in. I’m only getting started and you’re speechless.” 

You can only continue your pathetic whimpers, reaching back to grasp onto him before he tuts once more. 

“Pathetic, baby.” 

He slams back in, letting you drop forward. This time, you keep yourself up on your hands, letting out more small gasps, all of the noises getting half stuck on your tongue. 

“But you’re winning, right?” he taunts, accentuating each word with a thrust as he begins to pick up his pace, “You’re the winner here, right?” 

You don’t answer him, nearly drooling when he reaches forward and grabs up your hair, curling it around his wrist carefully before he pulls. It hurts, it makes you clench down on him, it has you babbling out nonsense you’re completely unaware of. 

Each time he snaps his hips forward, his skin collides with yours, ricocheting off the walls around the two of you.  Your arms shake, but you stay steady, refusing to collapse beneath him and the euphoria that scathes you. 

He pulls your hair harder this time, making you arch your back into him, “Tell me you hate me.” 

You cry out, feeling him hit even deeper as his free hand forces your hips to meet every thrust. 

“Say it, baby. Tell me just how much you hate me,” he huffs out, clearly barrelling as quickly to his own release as you are, “Say you hate my guts,” another sharp thrust, and his balls slap against you, catching your clit and making your knees shake, “Say you can’t stand me. Go ahead, baby, say it.” 

“I hate you,” you weakly respond, eyes tearing up as you feel your gut twist. Your fire, your blooms, his ocean. He’s making good on his promise – he’s ruining you, and you’re reveling in the wake of it all. Embers char you from the inside out, and your brain fogs over in pleasure. 

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I m-mean it,” you gasp when he reaches around, chest pressing to your back, finger hovering over your clit, “Fuck, right there, please. I mean it. Please, please-”

“Say it again, like you really mean it this time, and I’ll let you cum.” 

He stills, deep inside you, waiting with bated breath as his chin ghosts over the back of your shoulder. You stare straight ahead. If you glance down, you’d find your hands turned to fists, his ring still glittering on your finger. 

He’s destroyed you. To unimaginable levels. You can’t comply with his request, not without becoming a liar, because it occurs to you that the man currently wrecking you is not a man you’re capable of hating. You hated the situation the two of you were in, you hated the year wasted, you hated the looming pressure of your friends awaiting a return call, you hated the words exchanged between the two of you with the intention of cutting deep. You hated many things surrounding him, but you didn’t hate him. 

At Eddie’s core, he is still the man you first met. He’s finally drowned you, dragged you to the bottom of his ocean, and you can see that now. The man that first reeled you in at the bar never left, simply shrank away, hid himself away from you for some unknown reason that you hate. The man that dazzled you, enticed you, provided you with the opportunity of safety still exists. 

“I hate you,” you grit out, fisting at the cover of the cushions, your entire body on edge. From him, from revelations, from a build of hate that had been misdirected for far too long. 

“Good,” he gasps out, mouth falling open and against your skin, teeth grazing you, “Then this changes nothing.” 

You don’t have time to ponder, or wonder why he didn’t mention the feeling being mutual. Once the words leave both of you, his finger connects with your clit, working an expert pattern that has you preening as his vigorous thrusting returns. It’s harsher than before, pain and pleasure blurring together as your scalp aches, your vines tighten, and your flames erupt. 

Your vision whites out, and you don’t hear your screams of relief as much as you feel them. Your throat is hoarse, tears leak from the corners of your eyes, and the tension vanishes from your muscles.

Your arms collapse finally, and you don’t fight the way your cheek presses against rough fabric as his hips begin to stutter, his own ecstasy flooding over him before he’s crashing with you.  

The two of you stay that way for a second, skin on skin, words lingering in the air, threatening to vanish. You don’t care – you match your breathing to his as he doesn’t pull out immediately. 

A vibrating comes from the floor amongst the shared bliss, both of you too fucked out to move to go answer the phone. The money doesn’t matter anymore, not to you. 

Everything aches. You come to realize just how rough the two of you had treated each other, pains ringing out from your throat, from your ass, from your abused cunt. Your knees are surely marked from the couch and floor alike, your scalp is screaming in relief without Eddie’s grip against it. 

You don’t regret it. You don’t regret any of it, except a singular lie.

I hate you. 

What a brilliant, foolish, laughable, bullshit attempt at a lie.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers, smut, oral, p in v

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Everybody give it up for our bet reader @hellfiremunsonn ! This is sadly our last chapter. But if you know from my previous fics, flattery works with me. So comment/reblog if you want to see another chapter. It was so fun writing this. I love making these and I'm glad you enjoy them too.

⛤Chapter 5: Just Stay Eddie went back inside the bar, and told the group you were feeling pretty exhausted from all the excitement. He slipped Steve a 20 dollar bill so he could take care of the tab later. Eddie thought he was being sly but everyone knew exactly what was going on. It was nothing personal, you both just needed some time alone to process all these feelings and move forward. Eddie opened the driver side door and climbed in. Seeing you in his leather jacket while seated comfortably on the passenger side of his van sparked a bit of pride, he could feel it in his chest. It was his moment and he was going to make it happen. Eddie pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the main road. He turns the radio on and lights the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were once again taken aback by how kind he is, how he’s always looking out for you. You couldn't stop staring at his handsome face, he’s always made you feel weak in the knees but this time was different. It’s getting darker, there aren't many cars on the road. When you look out the window you notice how the sky is littered with bright stars, a sight you haven't seen in a long time. Eddie pulls into the apartment complex parking lot and parks in an empty space. He shuts off the engine and before you knew it, he was opening the van door. You take his hand as you carefully hop out. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you up to his place.  “I’ve got a little something for you upstairs.” He grins and kisses the top of your head. “Oh yeah? What might that be?” You return his playful tone. “All in due time, my love.” He says as he unlocks the front door. You expected Dustin to be there but it seems he’s gone out. You make it to Eddie's room and he quickly shuts the door behind you. He opens a small cabinet in his desk and pulls out two small glasses and a bottle of rye whiskey. “Can I pour you a drink?” “Yes please.” You giggle, Eddie used to be so rough around the edges, when did he get so sophisticated? He hands you the half full glass and you take a seat on the bed. He opens his closet and you can hear him fumbling around inside. After a moment he returns with something in his closed hand. He presents you with this red guitar pick necklace and you immediately recognize it.  “Do you remember this?” Eddie asks, taking a seat next to you. He motions for you to turn around and you hesitate at first but eventually turn your body away from him. He takes a sip and sets his glass down on the table. “Yeah! You used to wear it everyday, how could I forget?” You reply, you almost forgot he asked you a question. He drapes the necklace around your neck and adjusts the clasp. Eddie moves your hair off to one side, “Y/N, you and I both know this can't be temporary. I don’t want this to end when you leave, so I need you to tell me something, okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair.  “Do you really love me? Or is this something temporary. We’re adults now, things are different and more complicated. But I know my feelings for you have never changed.” Eddie admits while resting his chin on your shoulder. “I do…I love you so much it's stupid. At first I felt the same way, like you could have any girl you wanted so I had to be just some fling, right?” You take a drink, the liquor burns your throat, reminding you that you are in fact, an adult with adult feelings. You place your glass on the side table. “Eddie, I don’t think I want to go back to Shelbyville.” The thought hit you so hard. Why are you still there? “You don’t have to go. You could just stay and be mine.” He says, barely above a whisper. His face is really close, the thought of being his and only his made your heart pound. “Just stay.” He whispers in your ear. His voice is sticky sweet and his words ignite a fire within you. 

You turned around and kissed him hard. Eddie wraps one arm around your waist, the other carding through your hair. Your arms slowly wrap around his neck, each kiss more heated than the last. While your tongues dance in sync, Eddie slides his jacket off your shoulders and it falls to the floor. He slips one hand up your shirt which sends a shiver up your spine. You tug on Eddie's hoodie, he immediately gets the hint and removes it along with his shirt. It didn't take long to get you out of your clothes and in his sheets. Lost in the moment, you both surrendered to desire, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Lips brushed against cheeks, trailing tender kisses along jawlines and necks. Each touch a whispered promise of longing and each kiss was a unveiled secret.  Eddie explored every inch of your body with his fingertips. He was slow, reveling in the moment that he thought he would never have. He maneuvered himself on top of you and continued to plant kisses down your neck to your chest. With his free hand he rubs his thumb over your sensitive nipple. Your breath hitched and you let out a small whine. Your mind was in an intoxicating haze as Eddie’s lips went lower and lower. The anticipation was killing you but at the same time the thrill of it all was magic. Eddie kisses your inner thighs, you grab ahold of the sheets. He slips his tongue between your folds and everything melted away. The room was soon filled with soft moans and heavy breathing, you started to lose yourself in it all. You didn't have to chase that climax for very long, Eddie made sure to get you there with no effort on your part. When his face appeared from under the sheets you couldn't help but grab the back of his neck and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Eddie slipped himself between your legs and positioned himself at your entrance. Your hands roamed his body while you kissed his collarbones. He slowly slid his cock inside of you, he let out a low groan. This is everything Eddies ever dreamed about, the mental image of you underneath him will be burned into his mind for eternity. The way you feel is pure ecstasy to him, your soft skin and the way you taste was better than he could have imagined. He slowly pulls out and back in, making sure not to cause you any pain. He picks up the pace as you moan into his neck. “You’re so wet ah–You feel so fucking good.” Eddie growls into your ear, he thrusts into you deeper, and deeper. Eventually earning him a cacophony of moans and swears from your pretty mouth. It made him smirk, knowing he could unravel you so easily. He motions for you to roll over onto your stomach. You follow his lead and arch your back, allowing him to slide inside of you once again. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer and thrusts into a little harder than before. Your face is buried in a pillow, all Eddie could hear was more muffled screams and something that sounded like his name. “Mhmm…that's my girl, you sound so pretty. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this.” He says, his breath is starting to sound heavy, he could feel you tightening around him. He knows you're close, even after all these years he can still read your body like an open book. “Eddie I’m gonna…” You trail off, Eddie keeps up the pace, his fingers dig into your hips as you both climax, one after the other. Eddie lets out a moan followed by a string of swears. Thank goodness no one is home yet, it felt like you both made a lot of noise. Eddie slides out of you and pulls the covers over the both of you. Your legs intertwined, he peppers your face with kisses and you giggle. His arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible. You’ve craved these quiet moments of connection. In Eddie's arms you found sanctuary and safety. There were no masks to hide behind, no pretenses to uphold. Your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. “Now I definitely don’t want to go back to Shelbyville.” You finally break the silence and Eddie chuckles.

“It was that good huh?” Eddie smirks, “If you stay, you can have this whenever you like.” He affectionately taps your nose with his index finger.  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Munson.” You kiss him softly, “I accept your terms.” You whisper against his lips, followed by a smile. Eddie presses his lips to yours once again, his fingers card through your hair. Time seemed like it was standing perfectly still, all your worries have melted away. It was a feeling you haven't felt in a long time, something like contentment or peace. “Where home!” Said Steve’s disembodied voice carried through the apartment. “Shit…” You pull back and both curse in unison.

[cherry-4200]

A deal with the devil

Lucifer Morningstar x femreader

Part 1?

Slow burn

Hi! This is my first time writing on Tumblr I am trying to get everything figured out on here. I’ve had writers block for sometime, and I’m trying to get back into writing but I hope y’all enjoy the story it’s not gonna be 100% accurate to Lucifer‘s character but depending on how the story goes, I may turn it into a series!

Story description :y/n’s a human girl who owns a strip club, and is one of the dancers she’s been down on her luck and fortune so she decides to make a deal with the devil himself, not knowing that it was a double edge, sword….

I sat at my desk, groaning and rubbing my face as I looked at the pile of past due bills the club hasn’t been doing so great with the new competition in town I mumbled to myself in frustration as I pull out my phone calling my best friend Jess hoping to gain some advice. I sat as I watched my phone ring, hearing a high-pitched voice.

“Hey girl,what’s up!!!” Jess shouts over the phone she’s always been an oddball and so energetic. I don’t know how she does it I softly smile as I spoke. “ hey Jess… I need some advice. I’m running out of options on what to do for the club. I’m getting to the point where I might just make a deal with the devil himself.” I chuckled in a joking manner I hear Jess laugh as she spoke up “ I mean I know you’ve always been skeptical about that kind of thing, but why not give it a try who knows what if it works???” I spun around in my chair humming . “ it’s not like I have anything to lose but I doubt it will ever work” I look up over towards the clock seeing the time 7:25am letting out a solemn sigh “ I should probably head home I’ve been up here all night” groaning I stand up taking a big stretch I spoke on the phone with Jess a bit more as I headed out to my car heading home as I pulled up into my driveway I lay my head on the steering wheel,letting out a small huff stepping out and heading inside. I had a small apartment. It looked a bit rundown, but it was good enough. The rent was cheap. I got ready for bed then flopped down onto my mattress as the event of the day played through my head. slowly, I felt my eyes begin to droop as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up the next morning groggy as ever. I got ready for the day deciding to go out into town since it was my weekend off. I heard of a new shop opening up in the downtown area so I decided to go check out. I made my way down the street softly, humming to myself as I walked up to the store, it was in between two bigger shops with a small sign. It looked pretty, cozy as I walked in the walls were lined with books. after about 20 minutes or so a book caught my eye. I walked over to the shelf and picked it up. It looked to be an older book with mysterious runes over it remembering the conversation I had with Jess the other night I decided to take it home. Later throughout the day, I ran a couple of errands and picked up some dinner for the night. I sprawled out on my couch as I skimmed through the book. The book contained odd imagery, and descriptions on ancient, summoning rituals. After about an hour or so, I began to fall asleep as the book fell to the floor with a soft thud. through out the night I restlessly tossed and turned my dreams felt so vivid I was in a dimly lit hallway I blinked a couple of times trying to get adjusted to the lighting I slowly walked down the hall frames of unfamiliar faces decorated the walls the faces all blurred the wall paper looked old and was peeling in some areas the hallway felt as if it went on forever with multiple doors, at the end there was a figure wearing a simple suit with a tall white hat almost like a circus ringmaster would wear, as I stocked closer and reached out my hand. I suddenly woke up in a cold sweat.

Groaning out, I sat up and rubbed my eyes looking at my surroundings. I was still in the living room I looked down and saw the book on the floor it was open to an odd looking page. I reached down grabbing the book and inspecting the page I got a chill down my spine remembering what Jess had said it was about a ritual to make a deal… an eerie feeling fell over the room as I studied the pages, a familiar figure was on it. I read through the book, mumbling out the words on the page. The room started to shake, and the lights began flickering to sigils started , appearing on the wall. The room sudden grew dead silent as I looked up in disbelief at the man in front of me he was beautiful with rosy cheeks and golden blonde locks his skin was pale white i wasn’t expecting the summoning to actually work slowly I sat up from the couch as my words left my lips faster than my brain could react “ i expected you to be a lot taller and scarier” the demon chuckled a little bit , giving you a small smile. His eyes are a bright yellow that almost seem to glow in the dim light of the room "Well, what can I say? The stories about me may be a tad bit exaggerated. I'm actually quite charming, if I do say so myself." I slowly nodded my head squinting my eyes a him as I asked “so who exactly are you?

Lucifer can't help but laugh a little bit at your reaction. It's not often that someone summons him without knowing who he is already. "Okay, then. Let's back up here. Let's assume you do know who I am, as most people who summon me do. What exactly did you summon me for? What is it you want from me?" I softly rubbed the back of my neck looking away awkwardly then pinching myself to see if this was real I looked back up at the man “ I-i need help with my club…it’s not doing so great right now with the new compilation of the other clubs opening up” Lucifer raises an eyebrow in surprise, a small smile playing across his lips. He had expected that you might have something more personal in mind when you summoned him. "Oh? You need help with a business venture? That's not exactly what I would think someone would summon the Devil for." I quirked up my eye brow as I stared at the man did he just say THE devil that couldn’t mean.. “ are you the Lucifer like the actual devil himself ??” Lucifer can't help but laugh a bit at your reaction. but he thought it was funny that you were so surprised. "That's right. I am THE one and only Lucifer, the infamous Devil himself, Lord of Hell...the whole shabang."

“So you can help me right ? I mean I’ll do anything please “ I begged if this was really him maybe I could save my club from being shut down…..

Lucifer nods, though it's hard to tell if it's out of pity or not. You can't help but think that this is a rather boring request for him. Most people would ask for immortality, or to bring someone back from the dead, but you're just asking for his help because your club is failing."Okay, sure, I'll help you. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve when it comes to business matters. But remember that nothing i do comes without a price….”

[avvy-lavvy]

The Photographer female!oc x Tom Kaulitz

Chapter 2 -The Beach-

Bill couldn't help but laugh "We wanted to surprise you as a welcome to the chaos gift. We kind of just hoped and prayed you like the beach." Prue couldn't help but smile. "Of course I like the beach! I actually love it!"

Tom grinned. "So I get a girl to make out with in the water?" The others gagged while Prue laughed. "Sure. If you can catch me."

The girl spoke before making a run for it as she kicked her shoes off. "Catch me if you can lover boy!" Tom was caught off guard but he quickly kicked his shoes off before he ran after her.

"You're quick despite your short legs!" He yelled towards her as she laughed running from him. "What can I say I'm prepared!" The girl spoke as she bobbed and weaved through some people and over towels. Prue finally tripped up and almost fell but Tom snatched her from her waist. "Got you!"

"No fair! I tripped!" Tom chuckles a bit. "Life isn't fair P. It's brutal. Sooooo I win!" Prue laughs and rolls her eyes. "Fine just this once, only cause I'm curious to know what you mean by make out in the water."

"Go get changed and I'll show you." He grinned like a child and Prue chuckled, going to her van to change.

Once she was back Tom picked her up throwing her over his shoulder without warning. "HEY-" She kicked around a bit trying to get out of his grasp but quickly realized she didn't want to eat sand.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you!" He ran to the water till he was about waist high. He carefully adjusted how he was holding Prue as he spoke. "Hold on and wrap your legs around me."

He was so gentle as he moved her, she did as asked and spoke to him. "You better not dunk me in the water." He couldn't help but laugh. "I did this to make out with a pretty girl, not drown her. I promise."

"Then start kissing. I'm getting impatient." Prue locked eyes with him as she spoke, that's when Tom locked their lips together. The two let themselves enjoy the session, their lips moved in sync. A couple "mm" and hum's coming from the two here and there. Tom let one arm rest around her waist while the other held her up under her butt.

Both of Prue's arms rested around Tom's neck while one of her hands messed with his hair.

The two just chilled like that for a while until they heard one of the band members yelling for them, Georg. "LOVE BIRDS IT'S LUNCH TIME!"

They slowly pulled back and Tom yelled to Georg. "We'll be over in a second!" He carefully made it way back to the sand. Gently setting Prue down once they were in it. After that they made their way to the others for lunch.

"There were people taking pictures of you." Bill spoke as he handed them plates of food.

"Yea I know, it's why I carried her and walked a specific way. I didn't know if she wanted her face public or not." He felt no one should be forced into the public eye, especially anyone working for or with the band.

"Thanks...means a lot cause I truly would like to avoid the public eye at least for now that is." He actually cared and that meant everything to her. He's more than a fuck boy. She knows it, she can feel it. Despite loving to take pictures she isn't one to be in them. Especially if they'd be public.

"I also don't want people from my hometown seeing me public yet. I didn't necessarily tell them I was leaving so they easily could send the police to retrieve me until I turn 18."

"....Tom. You're fucking a runaway." Bill spoke and Prue laughed nervously.

"In my defense I just wanted to travel. Living in a small town in Kentucky wasn't going to get me far. I like traveling and being able to fulfill my dream of being a photographer. I'm working for you guys and I'm not even 21. That's a BIG accomplishment. I'm proud of myself."

Tom couldn't help but smile, seeing her talk about her dreams and how they're coming true. "If you happen to be found we'll talk to them. Try and get your folks to understand. But that's probably a big IF we might not even cross paths with."

Prue smiles at Tom and the band as they all agreed with him. She hadn't even been there a week and they're already the family she never had.

The five sat talking and laughing for another hour or so as they ate. They truly got to know each other and found themselves saying things they'd never thought they'd say.

"Gotta know, is he actually good in bed or does he just brag?" One asked Prue and she makes eye contact with Tom as she answers.

"He's the best I've had but I'm sure there's better." She grins as she leans back in her seat.

He raised a brow as he responded back. "Give it another couple nights. We'll know each other's bodies plenty more." He spoke confidently as he leaned back and played with his piercing some.

Gustav finally spoke up. "Alright change subject I don't want to hear the deets"

They all laughed and got back to talking, even showing weird talents they have.

Eventually Tom dragged Prue back to the water; however instead of making out with him, she splashed him without warning. "Hey! Not fair, I wasn't looking!"

"Oops-" she gets surprised when he swam up under her and grabbed her ankle before he yanked her under water with him. Once they both surface again he grins. "You played dirty so I did the same~" he spoke as he moved his hands in a wave motion towards her.

She glared at him and attempted to tackle him but failed due to a few reasons. One of which being her size. "Oh really now?" Tom spoke as he lifted her up over his shoulder. She let out a small squeal as he tossed her into the water.

They all didn't head to the van until it was dark. Prue was shivering at that point. Without saying anything Tom wraps his towel around her. "I CALL DRIVING!" Tom grabbed Prue's keys before he dashed to the car.

"WELL I CALL SHOTGUN!" Prue yelled as she followed behind Tom before getting in the passenger side. The others got in the back while Prue turned on the radio.

They all sang along to the radio laughing and dancing in their seats as they screamed along. The drive back to the hotel was about an hour. They all stumbled inside as they laughed and joked around. "HEY- I'M NOT THAT SHORT-"

Bill dramatically gasped as he laughed. "She's got attitude! But believe what you want, pipsqueak." Prue glared at him as she spoke. "You're just a fucking giraffe-" She wasn't wrong, all the boys were just tall in general especially compared to her.

Eventually they're all to their respective rooms. Prue started to change out of her beach wear throwing on the shirt Tom let her wear the night before. "Like me that much?" He raised a brow towards the girl and her face went red.

"I- what- I'm just putting it on cause I'm tired and it's right here." she spoke as she took her shirt off followed by her shorts before she slipped into Tom's shirt. "Besides. I think you secretly like seeing me in your shirt." She grinned at the boy as she sat down.

"Who said it was a secret?" He asked the girl as he sat by her, he carefully pulled her onto his lap so she was straddled across him. He moved a piece of hair behind her ear. "I can happily admit you wearing my shirt is attractive. But maybe I'm biased, I just think you're cute." He spoke before he placed a tender kiss on her lower neck.

Prue felt his lips hum against her skin causing her to close her eyes. "See, now I can't really say anything. I enjoy being called pretty by you. It feels nice." She lifted his head just slightly before she kissed him softly. "However it's not getting you laid tonight." She carefully gets off his lap before laying down, leaving the boy wanting more.

"I- ok fair. You really got me good with that, going along then cutting me off." He laughed as he laid down by her carefully. Even if he ate her alive every time he looked at her he still respected her not wanting to sleep with him that night. Even if he continued to make jokes about it.

"But I will happily steal your warmth." Without warning she puts her bare hands on his chest, her hands were ice cold and that caught Tom off guard. He let out a squeal sounding a little bit like a girl.

"WOAH HEY- COLD- warn me next time, Jesus lady." Tom spoke as Prue just grinned. "You're the one who wanted me to stay here with you. Soooo accept my cold or no?"

He squinted his eyes at her before wrapping his arms around her. It mice despite also feeling weird. They aren't in a relationship or even plan to be. Yet they just naturally act like a couple. Tom knew there was no way he loved, not yet at least. So he let himself settle for just thinking he had a crush, that might turn into love one day.

Prue had a similar thought to it. Just a crush, not dating but might fall in love one day. There's no way to see the future so she decided to just live in the present. 'I'll cross that bridge when I come to it' she thought to herself as she got comfortable with Tom.

The two just lay together eventually starting to talk. "So what do all your tattoos mean?" Tom asked the girl, curious to know the answer.

"I'll tell you about the one on my finger. It was a matching tattoo with my twin brother Hiro. Both of my tattoos were technically matching with him." Tom looked at her for a moment. "Was?"

"He died on our 16th birthday. The day after that I left. It has permanently broken me but I'm slowly becoming myself again. I actually started photography because of him."

"Can I know that story?" Tom asked as he just listened to the girl as she nodded. "Sure, started with a picture I took when we were 12. He told me it'd be good with it, however much like myself disliked being on camera so after he died there weren't many pictures of him. So I started photographing everything, I want these memories to look back on through visual aids. As I travel and move thing to thing."

Tom smiled softly at Prue. "That's both a sweet and sad story. I'm sorry you had to go through losing your brother." He planted a small kiss on her head. "We should get some rest. I'm sure we'll need it for tomorrow since we actually have a ton of interviews."

Prue nodded before she rolled over, allowing herself to drift off to sleep for the night alongside Tom.

||Author’s note: if these get any traction I’ll post the next chapter.||

[thran-duils]

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.18)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Eighteen) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,342 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Seventeen || Part Nineteen || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The keys were in the door and you turned your head confused considering Tony had just left minutes before. Maybe he forgot something? But Steve walked in, much to your surprise. He had not been around. He looked nice as usual, charcoal slacks and his navy button down fitted across his chest, the top couple buttons undone.

“That’s a good color on you,” you complimented as he walked up towards the kitchen island.

He tossed his sunglasses and keys on the counter, but not the bag he was holding, and smirked briefly, “Thanks, dove.”

“Where have you been?” you asked him, lightly, resuming rinsing your dishes.

“Preoccupied,” Steve said curtly, coming around the island towards you. He reached out past you and turned the water off. Your hands dropped with the plate you had been rinsing, staring at him. Holding the bag out to you, he said, “Here.” You put the plate down and dried your hands before taking it from him as he explained, “I’m gonna need you to change into that really quick cause we have to go.”

“Go where?”

“I have a meeting. It’s time sensitive.” He wrapped his arm around your hips and gave you an encouraging push towards the hallway. “We’ve got about ten minutes to leave, so let’s go.”

He was impatient, so you took the hint and went to the bedroom to do the what he asked.

Steve was waiting for you in the kitchen, and he looked you over quickly before giving a quick nod. You were unsure why you needed to go to a meeting with him, let alone wear a dress that barely covered your ass for it. At least the stilettos had an ankle clasp to give you some more balance. He adjusted the necklace at your collar bone and said, “Good. Go grab some of your makeup, we can take it in the car. And whatever you can do for your hair quick.”

Walking out of the apartment, you clutched your bag, waiting while Steve locked the door. Terrence was approaching, “Do you need us to go?”

Steve shook his head, “No. Just stay here. It won’t be too long.”

As Steve took off away from the curb, he told you, “Turn your phone off.”

“Why?”

He shot you a quick, vexed look, not taking his eyes off the road for too long. “Because I told you to, for one. Secondly, where we are going, they don’t take too kindly to cell phones. In fact, I’m going to have to leave mine in the car too.”

“That doesn’t sound safe…”

“It’s how it’s done. You wouldn’t know,” Steve said to you. “Now. So you don’t forget. Please.”

You pulled your phone out of your purse and reluctantly powered it down. Steve’s phone started ringing and he ignored it in his pocket, his hand coming across to rest on your thigh.

<><><>

Tony walked into the office, and his assistant, Quentin, perked up seeing him having been on his phone. He quickly tossed his phone down and smiled warmly.

“Mr. Stark,” Quentin greeted him. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Tony said absentmindedly, walking down the hall towards Steve’s office.

Before he reached it, he saw the lights were off. He came to a stop in front of the open door, looking into the empty office. Jaw clenched, he turned back to go down the hall to Quentin.

“Where is Steve?”

Quentin said, “I’m not sure, sir. He hasn’t come in yet today.”

Tony cocked his head, “He hasn’t been in all morning?”

“No, sir.”

Inhaling deeply, trying to keep his cool, Tony clipped, “Thanks. I’ll maybe be back.”

Before Quentin could say anything else, Tony was already heading out the door. What was Steve playing at? How would he have known Tony had not gone into the office if he was not at the office? Which meant he had seen Tony’s car was street parked.

Whipping out his cell phone, Tony called Steve. It rang, going to voicemail.

“Call me back,” he snapped, hanging up before dialing Y/N next. Her phone was completely turned off, which instantly made him worry. She never had her phone off. He tried again and he got the same thing. He swore as he picked up his pace as walked back out of the facility, “Fuck me.”

<><><>

Steve pulled up to the marina, coming to a stop. “Here, do your makeup,” he said, turning the car off. He reached over, pulling your mirror down for you.

“I didn’t bring enough for full face,” you admitted.

“That’s fine. You’ll look lovely regardless,” he responded.

He was watching you closely, you could see that out of your peripherals. You winged your liner carefully, trying to ignore his stare before putting your mascara on. Lastly, you grabbed the lipstick you had brought, running it across your lips.

After you had put it back in your purse, Steve reached out, turning your head to face him. “I got you that shade,” he said. You nodded and he smiled, pleased.. “It looks good. Especially with the color of the dress.” You thanked him quietly.

Steve’s attention was suddenly off of you, staring out the windshield. You followed his gaze, seeing an SUV had pulled up close by and men were starting to get out of it.

“That’s us,” Steve informed you, unbuckling himself. You followed his lead, unbuckling yourself too. As you reached for your purse, Steve laid his hand on yours, stopping your movement. “Leave it.”

“But—” you started to say, and he interjected.

“Remember what I said about the phones. You having a purse isn’t a good look. No one is going to break into the car, it’s fine.” Your hand fell back to your lap. “Before we go though, keep quiet. Don’t engage conversation with them unless you’re directly asked something. Understand?” You nodded and he said, “Good, come on.”

There was a small group of men standing by the entrance to the ramp leading down to the dock; they were dressed fashionably like Steve and you began to wonder what type of meeting he was allowed to bring you to and if it was going to put you in danger if you overheard anything they discussed or witnessed anything. You walked close behind him, trying not to get your heels caught anywhere in the pavement. Steve reached behind him and you took his invitation, grasping his hand, feeling more comfortable that he had a hold of you.

As the two of you approached, the man standing a few paces ahead of the others gestured towards the ramp. His eyes flashed with interest at the sight of you up close and you moved instinctively closer to Steve as the pair of you moved ahead of them, beginning to descend the ramp towards the boats. You could just feel the man leering at you from behind.

Steve came to a stop in front of a yacht. “No need to go on board,” he said as he turned around to face where the men were coming up behind you two.

You looked up at the yacht, taking in the tinted windows and you heard laughter coming from inside, music pouring out.

The man that had been behind you chuckled, “No time for even one drink, Rogers? That’s unlike you.”

Steve dropped your hand and put his hands in his pockets. “No, sorry, Perez. Not today.”

“Hmm, pity,” Perez shrugged. “Well, straight to the business then.”

His eyes fell on you now and Steve gave you a nudge forward towards him, forcing you to take a couple steps away from him. You shot him a questioning look as the man said, “So, this is her?” Steve nodded and your face screwed up in confusion at him, which he was ignoring, his eyes on Perez. Your heartbeat was starting to pick up speed, alarm bells starting to go off.

Perez drew your attention back to him as he began closing the space between you. “On the surface, the price sounds right.” His eyes were running up and down you, lewdness in his expression, “Something wrong with her?”

“Novelty just wears off after a little bit,” Steve answered. “You understand that, right?”

Perez chuckled, “I sure do. Thankfully, it’ll be all new to me.” He had begun to circle, slowly around you. You turned trying to follow him but he tsked, “Eyes forward, pet.” You bit your cheeks, standing stiffly. “I can guess she will be good amusement for my trip?”

“She’s quite the ride,” Steve confirmed. “Catches an attitude sometimes but it’s easily squashed.”

No no no. He was not doing what you thought he was doing.

“Steve?” you asked, trying to keep the warble out of your voice as the man came back around, his eyes still trained on your body.

You stepped back towards Steve, but his hand came to your back to stop you, keeping you in front of him. You looked over your shoulder at him and asked worriedly, “What is going on?”

“Just stay where you are,” Steve ordered you firmly.

The man stepped back again from you, giving you a final look over before he grinned past you at Steve, “Yes, this satisfies.”

He snapped his fingers, gesturing towards Steve. The man with the briefcase moved forward, opening it and holding it up to Steve to inspect. Steve thumbed his way through the stacks of bills.

“That should cover the shipment and also the extra for her,” Perez said to Steve.

Your head snapped towards Steve as it was confirmed he was doing exactly what you feared. Steve would still not look at you even though you knew he saw you were looking at him. You made to move, and he said again, “I told you to stay where you are, Y/N.”

“You can’t just sell me!” you pleaded.

“I actually can. If it somehow has slipped your mind, you owe me money because I bought your contract. Now, he bought you out,” Steve said closing the briefcase and finally looking at you.

Anger swelled and you stepped close to him, ignoring his order to stay. You demanded, “Where is Tony?”

“At work, obviously, Y/N,” Steve responded calmly. “Why do you think he left this morning? He couldn’t do it himself, so I was left to do the dirty work as usual.” Your heart sank at that, hope fizzling out. Tony agreed to this? Steve saw the look on your face and simpered, leaning in close. “I’m seeing you were thinking too much of yourself as usual.”

“Steve!” you said more forcibly as you were dragged away from him by men you did not know.

Steve and Perez shook hands. “Until next time,” Steve told him, giving him a brief smirk.

“Until next time,” Perez confirmed.

Without sparing you another glance, Steve turned on his heel and began walking down the dock.

“Stop it!” you said to the man who had an iron grip on your arm. He ignored you, continuing to yank you towards the ramp up onto the yacht. Craning your head, you saw Steve through the group of them, walking away with the briefcase. Shrilly, you called again, “Steve!”

You went weak seeing he was not coming back. He really was leaving you here with these men you did not know. Tears pricked your eyes as the goon took advantage of your shocked state to bring you completely onto the yacht.

Perez came up to you on the deck and grasped your chin, turning your head side to side to look at your face again. He tsked seeing your watery eyes. “Now, don’t go ruining your makeup, pet. You should be used to this, yeah? Or did you make a mistake of getting attached?” You said nothing, sniffling. You did not like him just by the look of him. He was handsome, that was true, but he had an air about him that set you on edge. He let go of your face and told the man holding onto you, “Show her to the bathroom so she can touch herself up and then bring her back up.”

<><><>

Steve turned around, letting them take Y/N. He ground his teeth hearing her call out for him desperately, but he stayed strong. He could not fuck the plan up now. He clutched the briefcase and walked around the front of his car, throwing the driver’s side door open. He tossed the briefcase haphazardly onto the passenger seat next to her purse.

He took his phone out of the center console and saw that Tony had left a voicemail and called three more times since he had first called. Ignoring that, he swiped his phone open and dialed.

“Cameras working,” Sam answered on the second ring.

“Good. It’s a clear picture?” Sam confirmed it was and Steve asked, “Is the speedboat ready?”

“Yeah. Parked down the pier a bit from where you are. Bucky and I are ready. I still think this is a risky plan. She could get hurt and Tony will kill you.”

“He’s already going to kill me probably for a handful of reasons. But she won’t get hurt,” Steve said with confidence. “We are going to be quick about it. Perez won’t have time to get her undressed. I’ve seen him with women; he is a wine and dine her. So, we have time. We just need to get a visual of him on the boat with Qian before we go in.”

“Right. Well, your suit is ready,” Sam told him. “Bucky is rearing to go. I wish he would stop glaring at me.”

Steve chuckled at that, “I’ll make my way down there. See you in a few. Don’t kill each other before I get there.”

He hung up and started the car back up. Sam was right; this was risky. Especially if Y/N was pregnant. But Steve had confidence in himself and his team. Plus, she was his to use and this is what he needed her for right now.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16

[thatesqcrush]

Retrouvaille

Rafael Barba x Reader. For @barbasimp - winner of Holiday Bingo. Prompt: Maybe a fic where Rafael and the reader were a thing before he left new york after the incident, but when he comes back he sees how close Carisi and the reader are and gets HELLA JEALOUS.

AN: This takes immediately during 22x04, “Sightless in a Savage Land.”  Script found here.  Coffee reference (above and in the fic - from 19x9, Gone Baby Gone.

AN2: Using “Sway�� by The Kooks for VDay bingo. Lyrics denoted in bold.

AN3: Retrouvaille is a French word meaning rediscovery - the happiness of meeting or finding someone after a long separation. 

Warnings: language & smut (p in v sex, implied cunnilingus).  WC: 3.3K

****

To say you were anxious was an understatement; your leg bounced restlessly as you and your Captain sat in the diner. It had been unbearably cold and despite still wearing your parka and the hot cup of coffee in front of you, you could not warm up.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Olivia replied as she poured some milk into her coffee. She stirred the coffee with one hand and reached out to grab your hand from across with the other. “You don’t have to be here.”

“Nope, I am good.” You replied coolly, your lips emphasizing the ‘p’ sound. You looked out the window, watching the people mill about on the street. A blast of cold breezed through the diner. You looked past Olivia and you felt your stomach flop at the sight of the man approaching the booth. You stood and switched sides of your seat, choosing to sit next to Olivia.

The last time you saw Rafael Barba, he was worn and depressed, with tears lining his eyes as he stood in front of the courthouse. It was there he poured his love for you making your heart swell before he shattered it into a million pieces as he broke things off with you. You were a wreck after, to the point you needed to take time off to get your affairs back in order. The apartment you shared with him was no longer your safe space  and no longer inhabitable. Rafael told you to keep the engagement ring. You took it off that night and left it in a lock box at your bank. Photos of you and him during happier times were taken down from your locker and tossed in the trash. Plans for the future - for a shared life together were gone, like a sandcastle being washed away by the sea.

Now Rafael appeared just as handsome as he did all those years ago. His hair was a more pronounced shade of salt and pepper and instead of being clean shaven, a beard graced his face. The infamous camel pea coat was swapped out for a grey one. Instead of a three piece bespoke suit under it, he wore dark jeans and a blue and pink checkered shirt. He turned to the counter and requested a coffee before he sat down in front of you. 

“Barba.” You greeted, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Olivia!” Rafael replied brightly. He shrugged his coat off and looked at you. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to sip your coffee once more. Rafael shifted in his seat and looked at Olivia. “So--”

“Liv’s said you’ve been busy.” You spoke, cutting him off. “What have you been up to?” 

You knew Rafael had kept in touch with Olivia. She had mentioned Rafael here and there in conversation with you and the squad.

You knew Mickey Davis deserved a good defense. You were, however, caught off guard when Olivia suggested that perhaps Rafael could help secure a deal. You didn’t even know he was back in New York.

“Consulting with the Innocence Project, defending voting rights on the ground. I've barely slept since the election ended.”

“Liv said once everything cleared up, you might consider doing defense work.” You continued. 

“Her case or Fin’s?” Barba asked. 

“The city settled one of Fin’s. Liv's still waiting on her day in the barrel, but that's not why we're here. 

“It should be -- sorry.” Rafael shrugged, looking at Olivia. 

Olivia gave Rafael a small smile. “Hypothetically, if we... arrested a defendant who was not innocent…”

“Decorated vet. Six tours in Afghanistan. Comes home to find his daughter raped by her foster father--” You interjected. 

“And he shoots the guy point-blank range three times?” Rafael questioned. Both you and Olivia give him a pointed look. “Hypothetically.”

“So you're all caught up.” Olivia replied, now picking up her own cup.

“All right, hold on.” Rafael shook his head. “Did Carisi ask you to intervene on Davis' behalf?”

“Well, actually, Carisi doesn't know that we're here.” You murmured.

Rafael laughed. “Of course not. Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“We wanted to see if you would feel him out. And see if he would cut Mickey a deal.” Olivia continued.

“With Carisi's stomach? He won't have the stomach to take this to trial.” Rafael rolled his eyes. “This case is a dog.”

“Really? Some mentor you are. Not even believing in your protege.” You sneered.

Rafael cocked a brow at you while Liv put a hand on your shoulder, in an attempt to comfort you. You jerked your shoulder away from her, and stood. You tossed some bills onto the table. 

“Sorry, Liv. I thought I could handle this. But I can’t. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You heard Liv call out your name as you stormed out of the diner, but not once did you look back.

Rafael looked at Liv, a frown on his face. “Honestly, I am surprised she didn’t leave sooner.” 

***

You and Phoebe were watching through the double-mirror in the squadroom as Kat and Rollins interrogated a suspect. Phoebe watched as Carisi approached you and she tapped your shoulder, nodding towards him. 

You looked over at Carisi and smiled. “How did voire dire go?”

Carisi sighed, crossing his arms. “It was the Rafael Barba show, charming and cherry-picking jurors for twelve straight hours.”

“He was always a dog with a bone.” You replied. “Walk with me to my desk. I am gonna order some Chinese.”

“I gotta know, Y/N. I saw Barba’s witness list, and he tracked down Ajay's other foster kids, ACS employees, VA shrinks. How big of a staff does he have?”

“I can’t say but know that I am not helping him out.” You hissed in a whisper.

Carisi huffed. “It's fine. Barba was here before me. He was your--”

You held up a hand. “No! That doesn't mean I'm more loyal to him than I am to you. You forget - he broke up with me. He wanted nothing to do with me. Why should I help him?”

Carisi’s ears turned pink and when saw the broken look on your face, he felt shitty. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “Dinners on you Mr. ADA and all will be forgiven.”

***

When Rafael entered the squadroom, it was late - he did not expect to see you. But there you were, Carisi perched on the corner of your desk, laughing. Seeing you and Carisi together like that - his jealousy flared and he wondered if there was something more than friendship going on. You plucked food out of the takeout container and offered Carisi a bite. You grabbed a napkin and reached up to Carisi’s face and you were about to say something when you spotted Rafael. Your laughter subsided and you smacked Carisi on the knee and pointed to Rafael. As he made way to your desk, you murmured something to Carisi and made a beeline to the locker room, dropping your food on your desk, causing it to spill a bit. The chopsticks fell to the ground with a clatter.

Rafael paused mid-stride and turned to follow, when Carisi approached him and blocked his path. “Barba, I don’t know why you’re here, but leave Y/N alone.”

“Is there a problem Carisi?”

Carisi jutted his jaw, clearly displeased. “Just leave Y/N alone - you hurt her. I know you never meant to. Don’t make it worse.”

“I came here to talk to her. That’s all.” Rafael huffed, before pushing past the young attorney to follow you, much to Carisi’s protests. 

**

You sat on the bench in front of your locker, crying. You dropped your head in your hands, your body shaking. You heard the sound of footsteps and you stood up, wiping your eyes. 

“Y/N.” Rafael’s voice was dark and deep, and hearing your name escape his lips sent shivers down your spine.

“Rafael! What are you doing here? Y’know you’re really not supposed to be back here!” You hissed, dabbing your eyes once more with your sleeves. 

“I wanted to check in with you.”

“Why? You’re not my boyfriend anymore.” You replied, as you grabbed your belongings. You slammed your locker shut, the metal clanging sound echoed. 

There was another sound of footsteps. Now it was Carisi who arrived. “Y/N, you okay?”

You looked at Carisi. ‘I’m fine. I’ll be out in just a bit.” Carisi nodded and made his way back out. 

You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Move.”

“No, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” Rafael agreed, but not moving. You stepped to the side and Rafael followed your movement, blocking your way.

“Move.” You commanded. “Now.”

When he did not budge, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Say whatever you have to say. Get it out.”

“I just wanted to say I am sorry for everything. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Rafael replied.

“Suddenly you care? Please, I have plenty of people in my life who have taken an active role in that. I have gotten by just fine since you left.”

“Who? Carisi? Trading in one lawyer for another? You got a kink or something?" Rafael replied haughtily. 

You snorted in derision. “You know what, you can go fuck right off.” You pushed past him and Rafael grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush to him. Rafael met your eyes, they were puffy and red from you crying. 

“What are you--” You began, but Rafael crushed his lips against yours. You were initially stiff, but you relaxed into his embrace, allowing for the kiss to happen. You let out a soft moan and Rafael used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, by sliding his tongue into yours. Rafael wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck, dropping your purse to the ground.

“I love ya.” Rafael rumbled into your ear before dipping his head to your neckline, sucking a mark that you knew you would not be able to hide.

At his words, you pushed Rafael away. “What the fuck? You can’t just barge back into New York, into my life, say that you still love me and expect me to forgive you on the spot!” You were angry, there was a fire in your eyes that Rafael had been at the end of before, and he dropped his head, shamed. He took a seat on the bench and you followed suit, sitting next to him. “Me, the squad… that was always your M.O. - take whatever you want to take - to hurt the ones you love. You never thought about the consequences of your actions on others - nevermind baby Drew.”

“I know. I am an asshole.  I know this is the wrong time and the wrong place but I had to tell you. I love you. And I regret the way I left things with you. And if you tell me you don’t love me - that you still don’t feel the same way - I’ll leave. After the case - you’ll never hear from me or see me again.”

Deep down you knew you still loved Rafael. You had always loved him. You didn’t initially understand why he did what he did with baby Drew or why he left, but with therapy, time, and deep talks with Liv, you understood. It didn’t mean you weren’t angry - you were - but you could see why Rafael felt he had no choice but to leave.

“I need your heart. I need your soul. And getting over you was the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do.” You replied, not answering his question. Your breath was still uneven from the tears you shed. You were worn and all you wanted to do was go home. You stood and slung your purse over your shoulder. “I am going home. Figure your shit out but don’t expect me to wait around.”

Carisi watched as you stormed away, with Rafael trailing behind you. He was going to say something but he noticed how Rafael allowed for the space between you and him to grow. 

***

The following morning you were getting ready for the day as usual. Coffee was brewing, music was blasting, you were digging around for some clean clothes. There was a staccato knock on the door. You ignored it and found a shirt from the pile of clothes and sniffed it.

There was a second knock, this time louder than first. “I am coming!” You shouted as you tugged your shirt on. You huffed as you marched to the door before tripping over a stack of books that you were planning on donating to your neighborhood library.

You swore loudly and hobbled over to the door. Swinging it open, you all but shouted, “What do you wa--”

On the other side was Rafael. Holding a tray of coffee and a paper bag, that you presumed were some kind of sweets. “I know I am the last person you want to see. I don’t know what to do. Um… do you want some coffee?”

You wrinkled your nose, but you took a step forward and plucked the pastry bag from his grasp. You opened it and inhaled the fresh pastries; your stomach rumbled in response. You reached in and grabbed a honeybun. 

“Come in.” You waved him in before taking a bite of the sticky pastry. Sorry it’s not more neat.”

Rafael made his way in. You entered your apartment, turning the lights on as you made your way in. 

“It’s fine.” Rafael replied as he took in your new-to-him space. There were elements that reminded him of your time together, but it was more uniquely you than anything else.

“You said something yesterday that has stayed in my mind all night long.” Rafael sat down on your couch. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” You asked, taking a seat across from him. You reached over and plucked the two coffees from 

“I need your heart. I need your soul. All this time away from you has made me realize that. I am sorry for hurting you - for even breaking things off the way I did.” He confessed. “But then I realized, I couldn’t do it. All this time… I still love you.”

You didn’t respond and Rafael felt his heart sink. His stomach knotted and he thought he would throw up. 

You were quiet when you finally did speak. “I still love you too.”

Rafael looked at you, a huge grin on his face. He was overjoyed to hear your proclamation. “So now what?”

You furrowed your brows and an idea came to you, your face brightening. “I suppose we’re due for some makeup sex.”

Rafael blinked. “What?”

You stood up and tugged off your top. “Look, I don’t know about you - but it’s been awhile and I have needs. Are you complaining?”

Rafael stood, shrugging off his coat and also making quick removal of his clothes. “No, not at all. Just not what I expected to happen.”

You were down to your panties. “Just gotta make one call.” Rafael nodded, continuing to undress. You grabbed your phone and called Liv. “Hey, Liv - personal emergency, I won’t be able to make it - no everything will be fine - no you don’t need to come by. I’ll make it up. Thanks.”

You tossed your phone onto the couch and stretched out your hand. “Come on.”

**

Rafael groaned as he pounded into you with punctuated thrusts. You grabbed the sheets desperately as pleasure coursed your body. Being reunited with Rafael was almost too much - no one ever fucked you as well as he did - and no one ever made you feel complete as he did. Rafael pushed your knee higher, changing the angle. His cock hit you at a new angle and you cried out.

“Oh fuck, fuck, yes, just like that!” Your back arched slightly. He dropped his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as he slid his tongue into yours. Rafael quickened his pace and you snaked your hand between your bodies to rub your clit. 

“Gonna… fuck… gonna come…” Rafael groaned. 

“Come for me, give it to me.” You panted. “Need it. Need you.”

Rafael stiffened, groaning your name as he came, filling the condom you insisted he wear for the time being. You continued to rub with one hand as your orgasm approached, you used your other hand to grip his arm tightly. You threw your head back as you cried out Rafael’s name as your orgasm peaked and washed over you. 

Rafael pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead as your body grew slack. He removed himself and rolled his body off yours. He removed the condom, tying it in a knot before disposing it into the trash bin at the foot of your bed. Rafael rejoined you in the bed and you curled into his embrace.

You stroked his chest softly, running the tips of your fingers through his chest hair. “We have a lot to work on.”

Rafael grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I know, hermosa.”

You looked up at him. “For us to work - it’s going to take time. We have a lot to work on - a lot to unpack.”

“As long as it takes. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You propped yourself up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, since we have so much time ahead of us now… why don’t we make up for lost time?” 

Rafael arched his brow and you squealed as he pulled you up on top of him.He kissed you deeply and rolled you onto your back once more. He began to press kisses along your body, shimmying down. 

He got to the apex of your thighs and spread your legs. You met his eyes and he winked before dropping his mouth to you again.

FIN.

***

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[doublekrecs]

More Than Physics

Spencer Reid x reader

Synopsis: you notice your ta in the library and ask him for a lesson in physics to which you pay him back with pizza and a lesson in sex

Warnings: smut (no p in v action), oral (male receiving), mutual masturbation

a/n: sorry this took so long, it’s been quite a week. but i'm thinking of making this a series depending on if you like it. anyways, i hope enjoy my angels! -🧞‍♀️

also thank you guys for 400 followers!! the love means everything to us:)

part 2

They always say life just blows right past you. Which you used to think was a load of bullshit, but now on your last year of college you’re sitting in the library on the verge of tears over your physics class, reminiscing on a time long ago when freshman year you was most likely at some frat party grinding up on some beefy blond named Steve. 

You let out a loud sigh, looking around to make sure you weren’t disrupting anyone. You weren’t. The library was almost completely empty, besides just you there was a small group of people actively note taking with highlighters scattered around the table and the biggest cups of what you assumed to be coffee. Looking over to your left you saw an oddly familiar mop of curly brown hair nose deep in a thick book. Wait it was Spencer.

He was the TA for your physics class, always enthusiastic and ready to help anyone. You honestly thought he was just happy anyone was willing to listen to his rambles. From what you’ve seen he was humble for being such a genius and seemed like a really sweet guy. Always flashing you a kind smile and opening doors for anyone around him. 

Which is why you felt a sense of relief wash over you when you saw him. You had been struggling with this unit in class and no method of studying had been helping you retain knowledge. So what better way to get help than from the resident genius himself. 

You packed your stuff and made your way over to the table he set camp at. Loads of novels you couldn’t imagine yourself reading sat in stacks next to him. You tapped him on the shoulder to which he flinched after being taken out of the fantasy world he was immersed in. Looking up he offered you the same kind smile as always before whispering, “Oh hi y/n.” 

“Hey Spencer” you smiled back.

He moved a stack of books off of the chair next to his offering you a place to sit. You set your stuff down and his eyes went to the physics book in front of you. 

“How's the studying going?” he asked, putting his full attention on you. One thing about him you always admired was the way he really listened to people. No matter who it was he always made people feel heard. 

“Not so good” he frowned at the sad tone in your voice, “But I was hoping that a certain TA would be able to spare a fellow peer some help” you looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Of course, what do you need?” 

You guys had spent the better part of two hours with him helping you set up notes and explaining certain topics to the best of his ability. You noticed him yawn and check his watch. “What time is it,” you asked, trying to suppress a yawn of your own. 

“Just hit 11, the library closes in 30 minutes if you wanna stay and finish up,” he said, stretching his back out from sitting for so long. 

“No, I think we’ve done enough work for today.” You both started to pack your stuff up, making small talk as you walked out of the building. 

“Hey Spence,” he stopped walking and turned to look at you, “I really wanna thank you for all your help today. Is there any way I can repay you for this? OH! I can take you to dinner, we can go to the little pizza place around the corner. It's on me,” you offered nodding with a wide smile. 

He smiled back at your enthusiasm, “You really don’t have to thank me, I'm glad I was able to help. But I won’t say no to a slice of pizza.” 

You led him to the little spot off campus, which he of course opened the door for you. The waiter took you to a little booth where you both ordered a soda before skimming the menu. The place was cute, very homey with warm lights and oldies playing softly in the back. There was a comfortable silence before the waiter came back and took your orders. 

Spencer was very easy to talk to as he had knowledge on all topics. However you wanted to know more about him personally. So you suggested a game. Never have I ever. Yes it was childish but hey, all good friendships have to start somewhere. 

“Ok I’ll start with an example and you put a finger down if you’ve done it.” he nodded taking a bite of his pizza. You took a second to think of where to begin, “Alright never have I ever gone skinny dipping,” you stated and his eyes widened a little bit. 

He shook his head no as you encouraged him to ask a question. “Um never have I ever failed a class.” 

“Spence no,” he frowned. “This is supposed to be fun, ask risky questions c’mon don’t be shy,” you looked at him encouragingly, “what happens at the booth stays in the booth,” you said tapping on the table for emphasis.

He took your words to heart as he waited a while trying to come up with a question. “Alright, never have I ever had more than 4 partners.” you put a finger down and looked at him confused. “How many people have you dated?” he took a sip of his coke before replying, “just one.” 

“Huh,” “What?” 

“C’mon Spence you’re telling me a genius like you doesn’t have girls lined up around the corner” you said raising a suggestive eyebrow. He giggled and shook his head no looking down. 

_

The game continued but keeping track of fingers was forgotten. Pizza was long gone and the bill was paid, now it was just you guys enjoying each others company.  It was obvious Spencer was breaking out of his comfort zone as the questions kept on getting riskier. Which is how you got into the topic of sex. You had found out that apparently he had almost no experience in any of it. 

“Y/n I just don’t see what the big deal is. I mean I do ya know.. get off, so what's the point,” he said playing with his napkin. You could tell he was a little embarrassed at the admission by the tinge of pink on his cheeks. 

“The point is that sex is normal and fun and something you should be experiencing.” 

“I don’t know. I just don’t wanna have one night with a stranger then be laughed at for being inexperienced.” 

Suddenly a lightbulb appeared above your head. 

“Spencer I have an idea. And please just hear me out,” he looked at you wearily before you continued, “let me tutor you in sex stuff.”

You swear he was gonna explode at how red he was, mouth gaping like a fish out of water trying to find words to respond. 

“Listen, you spent the night helping me with something I struggle in. Let me help you with something you’re struggling in. And it could be fun, ya know just some stress relief and you get to learn some new skills.” 

Spencer was taken back by your offer. He really wanted to accept, I mean come on it's not everyday a pretty girl just offers you to have sex with her. Let alone buy you pizza beforehand. 

You might have looked collected on the outside, sipping on your dr.pepper, giving Spencer time to answer but on the inside you were a mess. What if you had pushed him too far. Why did you think it was a good idea to just offer up something like that. Your thoughts were cut off by a voice in front of you speaking up. 

“Yeah.. Let's do it.” Now you were the one gaping like s fish. But you quickly recomposed yourself. 

You looked at him with a devilish smile, reaching over the table to grab his hand. “Well then Spence, let’s go shall we?” He laced your fingers together as you got up, matching your smile. 

_

In no time you were in your dorm after the brisk walk. Little conversation was made and you were starting to think maybe he was starting to regret agreeing. Unlocking the door you looked over at him nervously biting his pink lip, something you’d like to do. “You can just come in and we can watch a movie if you want. I don’t wanna pressure you into anything.” 

He looked over at you, big brown eyes gazing softly into yours, “I really wanna do this. Please.” 

“Alright pretty boy make yourself comfortable we’ll start off easy.”

You guided him to sit on your couch as you sat next to him. There was a moment of silence where you both just looked from each other's eyes to lips longingly. Neither were sure who leaned in first but your lips met in the middle, calm at first before the storm. His hands went to grasp the sides of your face, pulling you further into him. You took the time to adjust and settle on his lap, one hand on his shoulder while the other nested in his hair, causing him to let a groan in your mouth when you tugged it slightly. You’d save that for another time.

The time came for you both to pull away for air. His forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath. 

“As great as that was,” you said punctuating with a kiss. He tried to chase your lips as you pulled away to continue talking. “You can move your hands, I won’t break. Nowhere is out of bounds,” you said nodding encouragingly. 

His hands were warm, moving down slowly to your hips. You leaned back in, this time the kisses were slower but held the same desire. Again his hands stayed in the same place so you put yours over his and guided them up and down. He gained some confidence after you let go, his hands now straying to your ass giving it a squeeze. You could feel the smile on his lips at the gasp you let out. 

Making out soon led to desperate whimpers and a steady grind of trying to gain more friction. The feel of him hardening beneath you made you moan as the thin fabric of the leggings you were wearing did little to nothing to conceal it. You pulled away to start pressing wet kisses to his neck. You knew you had found his sweet spot under his ear when he shuddered. Your hand went down to palm him over his pants. Spencer jolted at the touch. 

“Fuck y/n,” he let out as a soft sigh. You took the opportunity to unzip his pants. Looking into his auburn eyes for confirmation to keep going he gave a silent nod, prompting you to take him out of his pants. It was pretty and pink, already weeping with precum you couldn’t wait to get your mouth on. Wasting no time you used your thumb to swipe some off to use as lubricant to start pumping his shaft. 

You went down to a spot between his knees, taking his hand in yours to set in your hair. He seemed to catch on quick as he pushed some out of your face to see your pretty eyes looking up at him while you sucked him off.  Under his soft exterior, shockingly Spencer swore like a sailor. Letting out constant “shit you’re so good” or a long “fuck” under his breath. 

You could tell he was getting close by the way you felt his cock throbbing. You stopped sucking, instead using your hand to keep stimulating him as you said, “It’s alright Spence you’re doing so good for me. Where do you wanna cum?” His eyes shifting down to your low cut v-neck said it all. You motioned for him to replace your hand with his own, quickly discarding the shirt leaving you in a pretty lacy bra. He was confused as to what you were doing when you started to pull off your leggings, but as your hand slipped down into your matching panties things started clicking. 

You were already worked up from the heavy touching and listening to his groans that it was easy for you to slip a finger into your wet heat, letting out a moan at the feeling. His eyes kept on roaming all over your body. The sight of your chest heaving and the glistening between your thighs was enough to set him off. 

You added another finger and matched the pace he was pumping himself at. Not taking your eyes off his hands, so big and veiny. 

“Ah Spencer, I'm so close baby. Please cum with me,” you let out along with little whimpers. Hearing his name on your lips was his end as his orgasm washed over him. Ropes of his cum spilling over his palm. Your release came soon after, rubbing your clit, gasping at the tightness in your tummy bursting. 

You both calmed down and met each other's gaze with a soft smile. Picking up your t-shirt you told him to stay put as you went to grab a towel for him to clean up. “So, not bad for our first ‘lesson’, you said walking back and sitting next to him. 

His cheeks were tinted pink from seeing how exposed you were in front of him but he had the courage to respond, “Not bad at all. I can’t wait for what else you can show me.”

[kokkoro]

Okay I have a funny prompt for you: Clarke gets a flat tire and doesn’t know how to change it and doesn’t have a ton of money to call someone. She orders a pizza and in the special instructions says she’ll tip $20 if they help her change her flat. Two workers arrive and she thinks it’s gonna be the tall muscled dude (Lincoln) but he’s like oh no, idk I’m not into cars, she’s gonna do it, and out comes Lexa. Clarke is gay the whole time watching her biceps as she works

“Absolutely not.”

“And why the heck not?” Raven asks. “Do you really want to sit on your butt until my 4 o’clock class gets out and I can come save your ass?”

“No,” Clarke says dejectedly, watching cars fly by on the highway.

“Then what’ve you got to lose? The worst that can happen is you're stuck there for another three hours with some pizza.”

“I guess,” Clarke mutters, glancing over her shoulder. She stares at the deflated shape of her rear passenger side tire and exhales a pitiful sigh, bringing up her right hand to rub her forehead.

“Alright, then. Keep me posted, ‘kay?” Raven says. “I’ll check in on you during break.”

“Please,” Clarke replies, but it’s quiet and lost to the wind the second Raven hangs up the line. And with nothing but the highway and her thoughts, it only takes a minute for Clarke to google the nearest pizza place.

Polis Pizzeria. Just fifteen minutes away despite being in the next town over, and Clarke’s pleasantly surprised to find there’s even a deal for a five dollar small two topping pizza when purchased in pairs. It’s easy enough to pay for with the little bit of money still left in her checking and altogether manages to scrounge up 20 and change from various nooks of her car. A couple of ones under the seat, one ten and a five in the glove compartment, and then another random dollar bill in between the center console and the passenger seat. Combined with what was left in her wallet, it gives her the necessary courage to press the order button, this short note in the comments section stating a nice tip for anyone willing and able to change a tire. 

Two small pizzas and a Pepsi later, Clarke opens up the passenger door of her beat up sedan and waits, scrolling through various feeds on her phone and ignoring the way her car rattles as cars fly by on the highway. A little bit of a breeze filters through the open windows, cooling the otherwise warm interior as the sun overhead finally begins its descent. Autumn could not come fast enough.

Clarke catches sight of the red hatchback in her rearview mirror what feels like a second too late. Taken off guard, she scrambles to right herself from her recline with her feet kicked up onto the dash and loses her phone somewhere in between the seats. She hears a door behind her close, and manages to pull herself upright onto solid ground just in time to see a tall muscular man most likely only a year or two older than herself, round the corner of her car holding two boxes of pizza. His smile is warm, his shaved head hidden under a black and red baseball cap sporting a now familiar looking letter P.

“Hey,” Clarke manages, clearing her throat.

“I’m guessing you’re the one with car trouble, huh?” he says, not even bothering to hide the amused quirk to his lips.

“Is it that obvious?” Clarke says, giving an awkward half shrug as the embarrassment takes hold.

He chuckles, handing over the pizza. “We’ve all been there, trust me.”

Clarke cracks a smile, the boxes warm under her arms. “Is this something you do often, then?”

He raises a confused eyebrow, and Clarke's stomach drops. It’s at this point that, if she had been paying more attention, Clarke would have heard the sound of the hatchback trunk as it swings shut. “Do what?”

“Change people’s tires?” Clarke says, voice a pitch high as her heart drops.

The man laughs, reaching up to scratch the back of his head underneath the hat. “I don’t know anything about cars, sorry. I’m not into that kind of thing.” He pulls his hand away, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. “That’s why Lexa is here.”

“Lexa?” Clarke repeats, eyes narrowed. She leans to the left to peer around the tall bulky form in front of her, and feels her jaw drop. Just for a second at least, as Clarke takes in the sight of the woman with a hat between her teeth as she deftly gathers up the thick mane of her hair using the reflection in the window.

The heat of the day is already curling the hair near her temples and the woman named Lexa tries unsuccessfully to tuck the pesky strands behind her ears with little success. She gives up, taking the hat from between her teeth and tugging her hair through the back, adjusting the bill until it sits comfortably on her head, shading her eyes. When she turns toward them, picking up the duffel bag near her feet, Clarke scrapes her jaw off the ground, catching a hint of green as Lexa’s eyes dart in her direction.

“Need any help?” the man asks. Lexa snorts, quiet, shaking her head, and Clarke's stomach swoops.

“You’ll just get in the way,” Lexa says as she comes to stand by her coworker. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He waits a second and then, “You two okay if I hang out in the car? I brought a book.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not--” Clarke says, fully aware that the end of this sentence is just as much a mystery to herself as it is to everyone else. Coherency lost somewhere between flustered and too bi to function.

Lexa sets down her bag of tools and they clamber against the pavement near the flat tire. The man nudges her in the shoulder. “I’ll be back at the car then.”

“Sure,” Lexa replies, bending down to pick up the wrench. She squats, and Clarke watches her pop off the five plastic caps covering these large bolts with her free hand. Once they’re all off, she looks right, and Clarke straightens under the stare. “Do you have the car in park?”

Clarke nods.

“Good.” Lexa looks away, lining up the wrench with one of the large bolts. There’s a little bit of force required with the initial twist as Lexa leans into the wrench with her weight and Clarke isn’t blind to the way the veins in her hands and wrist become subtly more pronounced, the muscles in her forearms flexing.

Clarke clears her throat. “You, uh, do this often?”

“You could say that,” Lexa grunts, putting her weight into the next bolt. It loosens and she turns the wrench a couple full rotations before moving on to the next.

The sun seems warmer now, mid afternoon and the breeze all but gone save for the passing cars along the highway. A little bit of shine catches Lexa’s upper lip as she continues to work and she turns her head to wipe it off against her sleeve, the bill of her hat blocking her eyes from view.

“I take it you’ve never done this before?” Lexa asks, her focus elsewhere as she rummages through the bag at her feet.

“Uh, no, not really,” Clarke says, watching as Lexa pulls out a brick from the bag. Satisfied, she gets up to place it diagonally opposite the flat tire before returning to her spot. Squatting down, Lexa rolls up the sleeves of her work shirt, in preparation for what Clarke isn’t sure, but she isn’t going to say no to the view. Especially when the black ink of a tattoo pokes out beneath the sleeve.

“Do you want to learn?”

Clarke blinks, eyes darting up to find Lexa watching, arms draped over her thighs.

“It might save you some money in the future,” Lexa adds, the slightest of smiles at the corner of her lips.

“Sure,” Clarke says, a little breathless. “Yeah, I guess.”

The smile spreads just barely. “You might want to put the pizza down then.”

Clarke looks down at her hands, the warmth from the underside of the boxes seeping into her skin. A blush rushes to her cheeks. “Right.” Clarke turns towards the front passenger seat and the still open door and sets the box inside.

“All set?” Lexa asks once she returns, watching as Clarke crouches down beside her.

Clarke pushes the hair back from her face, brows pulled together. “I’m ready.”

Their knees bump as Lexa shifts, tugging off a hair tie from around her wrist. She offers it wordlessly, and after a second of thought, Clarke holds out her hand. Lexa drops the elastic into her palm.

“Thanks,” Clarke says, reaching back and gathering her hair in a loose bun.

“Don’t mention it.”

Lexa starts off by naming the little bits and pieces, gesturing to each of the tools in her duffel bag and explaining their intended use. She helps Clarke find the appropriate spot underneath the car for the jack using the user’s manual Clarke never thought she’d actually use, and from there, it's relatively simple.

The tire comes off easily once the car is jacked and the rest of the lugnuts are removed, set in a neat little pile by the bag. Lexa does most of the heavy lifting, removing the now flat tire while Clarke attempts to wrangle the spare from the trunk.

She doesn’t get far before Lexa appears in her peripheral.

“I can grab it,” Lexa says, stepping close. A pleasant scent fills Clarke’s nose, their shoulders touching, and it feels far too warm.

Clarke pulls away, and Lexa steps into the now unoccupied space at the back of the car. “All yours,” Clarke replies, but Lexa is already finishing the job, hefting the spare tire from where Clarke had managed to prop it onto the lip of the trunk and up under her arm with a grunt.

Clarke follows without anything else to do, standing by as Lexa fits the new tire into place. “See this?” she says, pointing to a nub along the rim once the tire is fitted back onto the axle. “It’s the air valve. This should always face out.”

Lexa reaches down beside the nearby bag, picking up the lugnuts. She double counts them in her palm and then looks up. “Would you like the honors?”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She takes her place down by Lexa's side, holding out her hands for the bolts. Lexa carefully deposits them into her hands before reaching down for the wrench and with her help, the spare is secured and stable and the car is back on four wheels in no time. Lexa stores her tools back where they belong in her bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder as she stands. She reaches up to tug off the hat, and Clarke has the misfortune (pleasure) of seeing Lexa run her hand through it, scratching at her scalp, before pushing it all over her left shoulder in one curly wave.

“Hey,” Clarke says, the word stumbling from her lips. Lexa looks in her direction and for a second her heart stops. Clarke clears her throat. “Thanks.”

Lexa’s lips tilt upward. “Anytime.”

When she turns to leave, Clarke acts on instinct. “Wait--” She reaches for the first thing within range. Which just so happens to be Lexa’s shirt. There’s a specific kind of mortification that seizes the air in lungs, but she pushes through it. “Wait,” she says more firmly before letting go and bolting back over to the passenger side door. She leans in over the seat, scrounging up the pile of money left in the center console.

She scrambles back outside in a rush, almost knocking her head on the door frame, but Lexa patiently remains where Clarke saw her last. Her shoulders are relaxed and she looks almost bored. It’s the sparkle in her eyes when she catches Clarke's stare that convinces her otherwise.

“Thanks for saving my butt,” Clarke says, handing over the money.

“You don’t need to,” Lexa says, her eyes not leaving Clarke's.

A blush burns gently under her cheeks, pleasant and warm all the way down to her neck. “Uh, yeah I do.”

Lexa’s fingers close around the money, folding the bills in half and then fitting them into the back pocket of her jeans. “Thank you…?”

“Clarke,” she answers.

Lexa’s smile is small but infinitely soft. “Drive safe, Clarke,” she says, and turns around toward the red hatchback idling behind her car.

“Bye,” Clarke replies. It's barely an exhale, lost completely beneath the wind.

--

“You have some explaining to do,” Raven says, startling Clarke where she’s sat at the kitchen table, her phone slipping from her fingers and hitting the table with a loud thunk.

Clarke scoops it back up, quick to close out of the recent calls section of her phone app. “I already told you what happened.”

Raven hums, looking wholly unconvinced as she sets down her laptop bag and various books onto their already crowded table. “And I’ve known you long enough to realize when you’re withholding juicy information.” She takes a seat across from Clarke, and waits what seems like minutes before continuing. “You can’t just mention that a pretty girl showed up to help you change your tire and expect me to leave it at that.”

“Yeah I kinda am.”

“Did you get her number?”

“What?” Clarke blinks. “No, of course not. She was working, I’m not going to do that to her. Besides she’s probably not even gay.”

“She showed up to change your tire, Clarke. And not to stereotype but that’s pretty lesbian of her.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, busying herself by checking through her emails. Nothing holds her attention long enough and she soon finds herself back where started. The Polis Pizzeria number stares back at her and for once in her life Clarke decides not to think.

It’s probably the worst decision of her life.

Even without the phone pressed to her ear, the ringing is undeniable and Raven’s eyebrows shoot up as her eyes dart between the phone and Clarke’s equally surprised face. A second and then two pass and Raven stands up from the table just as Clarke raises the phone up to her ear in time to hear:

“Polis Pizzeria, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi, uh...” Clarke swallows, her cheeks burning. A feeling she thought she had long since abandoned back in high school. “I’m looking for Lexa. Is she there? This is Clarke.”

“Speaking.”

It’s like a shot. The sudden nerves that come hurtling back and her palms go clammy with sweat, tongue thick and sticking to the roof of her mouth, and all rational thought decides to leave her in an instant. On the other side of the room Raven falls into an insistent fit of giggles.

“More car trouble?” Lexa says, breaking the awkward, drawn out silence.

“No. I mean, yeah, I--” Clarke swallows around the lump in her throat. Raven wheezes. “Maybe? I don’t know, I--”

Raven lets out a squeak of laughter, and Clarke picks up the closest pen and chucks it in her direction. It unfortunately misses by a wide margin.

“Clarke?” comes Lexa’s voice over the line.

Her attention returns immediately. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called you.” Clarke stops, dropping her head into her hand. “Do you want your hair tie back?”

Lexa chuckles and somewhere in the background Clarke thinks she hears someone call Lexa’s name.

“How about this,” Lexa says softly, and the sound of that voice in her ear nearly makes Clarke melt. “I’ll give you my number. Feel free to text me if you have any car questions.”

Clarke picks up her head, staring out across the kitchen. “Really?”

“Yes,” Lexa answers, and for some reason Clarke can picture her smiling. “Really.”

[writtenonreceipts]

A Throne of Glass Fanfiction. Rowaelin.

8k words later and everything hurts.  I just kept writing and writing because I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to happen or how to end it so here we are...part four? i seriously don’t know if i can or should fix it at this point, hahaha...ha. ha?

Warnings: angst. it hurts.

Based on a prompt I received here and you can find part two is here

PART 3

#

December 18th

“How are you today, Aelin?”

The was, without a doubt, her least favorite question.

Picking at her nails, Aelin shook her head.  There was so much to say and most of it wasn’t significant.  Did she talk about how she hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in over a month?  Or how she couldn’t concentrate at work for more than ten minutes?  Or maybe she could talk about the fact that her best friend and cousin were getting married and she was asked to play the piano as Lysandra walked down the aisle.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up.

Across the room Yrene didn’t look convinced.  Her curly brown hair framed her lovely features and accented the golden-brown light of her eyes.  She was a beautiful woman and Aelin had to wonder why she didn’t have a ring on her finger.  She was obviously successful, kind, attractive, and when Aelin wasn’t being stubborn—easy to talk to.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave now,” Yrene said.  She leaned back in her seat and clicked her pen as she watched Aelin.

Sighing, Aelin ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how I am.”

“You don’t want to be here, we can start with that,” Yrene suggested.  She smiled knowingly and Aelin rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want to be here because I know it’s a waste of time,” Aeline said.

“But you came anyways.  Why?” 

“It’s what everyone expects of me,” Aelin said with a shrug. “So, I may as well get it over with.”

“So, you don’t think anything is wrong?” Yrene pressed. “There’s nothing keeping you up at night?  Your tapping foot is just a random occurrence?”

Aelin’s foot stopped.  She pursed her lips and glared at Yrene who smiled serenly.

“When we are in uncomfortable situations we have tells, unconscious ticks,” Yrene explained.  “I’m not trying to intimidate you; I hope you know you can be honest with me.”

Intimidate.  Yrene was not intimidating.  Not really.  Aelin just didn’t want to spill her problems out like this.  Not now.

“Why, despite everything, did you come today?” Yrene asked.

There’s no point lying.  Not when Yrene can point it out so easily.  Not when she doesn’t get much satisfaction out of it anyways.

“If I didn’t come, I would have had to go into a work meeting,” Aelin said, “and Sam would have been there.  And after that stupid party—I just can’t be around him right now.”

“Why do you think that is?” Yrene prods. “Are you embarrassed by what he may have seen with you and your friends?  That was the first time he really met any of them, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean, we only got together a few months ago after I left,” Aelin replied, her foot began tapping again and she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist. “But why should I be embarrassed by him?  He treats me well; he cares about me.  But it was my first time seeing everyone in so long and I didn’t think he would have come.”

“You didn’t want him to meet everyone.”  Yrene’s words were innocent as they tried to make sense of Aelin’s rambling.  For which Aelin was grateful, at least one of them knew what was going on.  And yet...and yet they sent a chill through Aelin’s body.

“I didn’t want him to meet everyone,” Aelin agreed.  She met Yrene’s eyes. “Because as soon as he did everyone would try and assume that I was fine.  And dammit, fine is the farthest from what I am feeling.”

#

When she started therapy, Aelin had been back in Terrasen for all of twenty-four hours.  November twentieth was her first session with a woman who had a private practice and a website that declared her specialties lied in healing from trauma and working through anxiety and depression.  It was a simple profile.  One that Aelin wasn’t sure why she went for it, but in a spurt of desperation she’d made an appointment.

Almost a month later and at times, bi-weekly appointments, Aelin didn’t know if she were any better off than when she first stepped off the plane from Paris.

Sitting in her office near the end of the workday, Aelin scrolled through social media on her phone.  She really had to stop doing so, but staring at a computer screen full of fashion sketches or marketing reports was not appealing.  She unfortunately stumbled across a post Fenrys made not twenty minutes ago.

It was a simple picture of him, Lorcan, Conall, and Rowan.  Each dressed in a suit and tie.  Each handsome in his own right.  Of course, Aelin’s eyes lingered on Rowan.  Of course, she couldn’t help but imagine what he had done with himself over the past year.  Of course, she knew it was stupid of her to do so.

Landed an epic deal in Wendlyn! Got the best team around.

Aelin was surprised to see Fenrys had managed not to cure on the page, even if it was a work-related post.  Just as she was surprised that he had kept his innocuous verbage kept simple using only one “epic” and not a single “dude” or “rad.”  

The knock on Aelin’s door had her looking up and she found Sam staring in at her.  He had a handsome smile and his bright eyes watched her with interest.

“Hey,” he said, “you almost done here?”

Aelin glanced at her screen where numbers and approvals still needed to be inputted.  She was a terrible person.  How the hell had she been selected to go to Italy, let alone Paris, for those work assignments?

“Chock it up to the Monday brain, but I’m going to need to make it a late day,” she said regretfully.

Sam frowned and Aelin knew he could see right through her.  At least mostly.  He might not have seen everything going on in her mind, but he knew her enough to take an educated guess.

“Let me order take out and I can stay and help you,” he offered.

An unexplainable stab of emotion filled Aelin as she looked up at him.  He was too good to her.  Too good for her.

“I thought you had plans,” she said after she was able to school herself.

Sam smiled sheepishly.  “Just with your cousin and Dorian.  They invited me out for drinks.”

I didn’t want for him to meet everyone.

Just as soon as she’d swallowed down her emotions, the panic began to rise again.  Hell.

“Go.” She said.  The response surprised her.  It was the absolute last thing she wanted to say but the simple word slipped her lips before she could stop it.  “Go.  I’ll be fine.  It’s not much anyways.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely,” she lied.  

And because Sam was too good, he couldn’t hear it.  He couldn’t see the subtle shake of her foot or the way she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist.

Instead he crossed her office and leaned over the desk to kiss her.  Slow and languid.  He pulled back much too soon.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” he said with a heart wrenching smile on his face.

“Yeah,” she replied and watched him go.  

It wasn’t long before five o’clock rolled around and he stopped by again to make sure she was fine working late by herself.  After she convinced him to leave, she waited.  She waited until the last of the interns and admins left before she pulled out her phone and made a call.

They picked up on the second ring.

“I’m going to send you an address,” Aelin said, “can you bring a few things and meet me there in an hour?”

#

“I thought I was mortal enemy number one on your hit list.”

Chaol Westfold.  Tall, muscular, handsome, and an ass.  

“Did you bring the cake?” Aelin asked.

He hefted a plastic bag up. “And the beer.”

“Then congratulations,” Aelin replied, “you are now welcomed back into the fold of friendship.”

Chaol looked as though that were the last thing he wanted, but he entered her office and shut the door behind.  He muttered under his breath about this not ever happening again as he unloaded the cake and beer.

Aelin immediately went for the cake.  Chocolate hazelnut with a creamy frosting.  It was the first thing she ate after getting back from Paris.  It had to be the best creation in the world.  She grabbed a plastic fork from one of the drawers in her desk and immediately dug in.

“Are we going to talk or am I just your cake supplier now?” Chaol asked.

Reluctantly, Aelin dug another fork out of her desk and tossed it to him.  He accepted, but he didn’t eat.

Aelin licked a blob or frosting from her fork. “Do you know why we broke up?”

“We lied to each other about everything,” Chaol answered.  Slowly, he scrapped a bit of frosting on his fork.  He contemplated his next words before continuing. “And we never talked about it either.”

“Right,” Aelin said, nodding. “Do you ever regret breaking up?”

That was the question that drove Chaol to a real bite of the cake and Aelin had to smother a laugh watching the sight.  Chaol never ate cake or chocolate or anything that wasn’t specifically for keeping in excellent shape.  So the sight of him actually enjoying eating the cake was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

“Of course I do,” Chaol said.  “At least, I regret how we broke up.  You’re the first woman I ever loved, Aelin.  The first one who really...I don’t know taught me how to live.”

She shook her head. “Nah.  I dragged you around into trouble.”

They sat in silence as they ate the cake.  Aelin ate far more than her share.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Chaol asked.  “Or tell me how the hell you still have my number?”

She grinned viciously.  “I had to keep you in my contacts in case I needed someone to frame for murder.  And you were just the asshat to fit the bill.  Until you brought me cake.”

He rolled his eyes at her and cracked open a beer. “Why am I not surprised?”

Cackling, Aelin stuffed her face with more cake.  She knew that she couldn’t ignore his original question for long.  There was a reason she had called him and only him.  Maybe this was something she should have talked to Lysandra about.  Or even Yrene.  But there was something about her friendship with Chaol that no one else could fill.

“Rowan cheated on me,” Aelin finally said.  Chaol nearly choked on his beer.  She grabbed a few spare napkins to toss at him before continuing. “That’s why I went to Europe.  I had to get away.

Chaol sat quietly as she continued. She told him everything about the fight she had with Rowan, returning to his apartment, hearing what he did.  She told him about leaving.  About Sam.  About the party.

“He said he still loves me,” Aelin finished. “But if he does, if he ever did then why did he do what he did?”

It was a lot to put on Chaol.  He’d never cheated on her.  But he’d lied about various things.  She’d lied too of course, but they’d been fresh out of high school trying to live their lives.  She’d certainly loved him enough to have sex with him for her first time.  

And then they’d drifted further and further apart.  To the point that Aelin never knew who she was when she was with him.  It was unfortunate really because his friendship had helped her through the hellish years of high school and on into that first year of college.  And then it was gone.

“Have you talked to him?” Chaol asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Aelin could see the rise of his brow and knowing glint in his eyes.

Aelin sighed dramatically. "You should meet my therapist. All the two of you want me to do is talk."

"Aelin," Chaol said, his voice growing just a tick more serious.

"What is there to talk to him about?" Aelin stabbed at the cake, suddenly feeling ill which was far too disconcerting. "I know how I feel on the matter. So does he."

Chaol grunted unconvinced. "I doubt that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the second beer he brought and settled in to mock him endlessly.

#

December 19th

"It's seven in the morning." Yrene frowned as Aelin pushed herself into the office.

"And yet you're already here," Aelin said.

She hadn't slept the night before. Not really even after talking to Sam who's had a riotous night with Aedion and Dorian. And all she could about was her conversation with Chaol. 

"To get ready for the rest of my appointments," Yrene said slowly, still watching Aelin with obvious confusion.

Settling down on the couch, Aelin looked up at Yrene. "Why do I still love him?"

Yrene pursed her lips and shut the office door before crossing to her own chair. She said nothing and simply waited for Aelin to continue.

"I mean, he hurt me, betrayed what I thought we had together, what we could have had together...and all he can say is I don't know what happened. Am I that replaceable to him?"

Yrene continued looking at her, quiet. But she had opened up her notebook and began taking notes on what Aelin was saying.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Aelin added, “and I have not talked to him yet.  I don’t think I can.”

Silence stretched through the room and Yrene clicked her pen as she stared at Aelin.  The latter woman staunchly avoided looking up from her nails.  It wasn’t until Aelin’s phone buzzed with an incoming text that she sighed heavily.

“Where do you feel safe, Aelin?” Yrene asked suddenly.  She leaned forward in her chair and fixed Aelin with a long look. “Where do you feel like you are in control and confident?”

Aelin made a face and shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “Serious answer?  There’s this dumpy little apartment that the company rents out for storage.  I go there when I need to get away.  Or the coffee shop down on Fifth.  A friend I met in Paris has family that owns it.”

“Okay,” Yrene said with a slow nod. “If, and only if, you feel comfortable I think you need to talk to Rowan.  You deserve closure on what happened.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Aelin asked.

Yrene smiled. “I really think you deserve more than what you are allowing yourself to have.”

Glancing at her phone Aelin sighed. “I need to get to work.  Let me know how much I owe you for this.”

Yrene assured her that she would and Aelin slipped out of the office.  

By the time she made it outside, a light snow began to fall.  The thick white flakes assaulted her and clung to her hair and coat.  Aelin muttered a curse.  She really did not miss the snow.  Nothing about it.  Not the cold, the ice, the distinct scent of pine that always seemed to come when the chill did.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Aelin hurried down the walk towards her work building.  Thankfully Yrene’s office was close to her own so Aelin was usually never late for work or gone long when she had her appointments during lunch.

She texted Sam and he met her in the lobby of their work building, coffee in hand.

“Hey babe,” he greeted with a kiss to her cheek.

Aelin smiled warmly and accepted her coffee, grateful to the immediate warmth that spread through her fingers.

“Thanks,” she said.  She leaned into his side as they made their way to the elevators. “You have fun with the guys last night?”

“They’re great,” Sam agreed.  When he glanced down at her a strange expression flashed on his face.

“What?” Aelin asked. “Dorian didn’t shove you into a rose bush, did he?”

Frowning, Sam shook his head. “No?”

“Never mind,” Aelin said quickly.  “He just does that sometimes.”

Sam still looked utterly confused and it was such an endearing look that Aelin rose on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“They just mentioned something,” Sam began slowly, “it’s just, ah, they mentioned Rowan.”

Aelin nearly choked on her coffee.  Sputtering, she covered her mouth. “Rowan?  Why the hell would they?”

“It’s nothing,” Sam said quickly, “he was at the bar and they—I don’t even know what it was about.  It’s not a big deal.”

Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything as the elevator opened on their floor and a group of interns was already waiting for Sam to sign off on orders and marketing issues.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Sam called over his shoulder as he hurried off towards his office.

Aelin could only wave weakly as he disappeared.  Sometimes she wished she’d thought through starting a relationship with him a little better.  But after everything that happened with Rowan...Sam had been something new.  And she’d believed that something knew was just what she needed.

It didn’t help that sometimes Aelin could still feel Rowan’s hands on her, his lips ghosting hers.  She could still feel the rumble of his laugh when they spent late nights together and woke up early.  

Her stomach churned with acid.  The coffee was not sitting well in her empty belly.  At least she still had chocolate cake hidden in her office from her chat with Chaol.

But Aelin certainly didn’t want to feel this way.  Not anymore, not when she had been trying so hard to move on with her life.

So as soon as she got into her office, she pulled out her phone and sent a text.

#

Rowan without a doubt hated himself.

He had for a long time and without a doubt fully deserved it. So when he got a text from Aelin he promptly threw up in the nearest trash can of the office break room.

Fenrys laughed at him, absolutely pleased with how the morning was going.  Over the passed year they’d been working together, diving into a business management system to help companies and the likes from going bankrupt.  The only reason it was going so well was because Rowan did nothing else but work.  

"Dude, did you get wasted on a weekday again?" 

Rowan flipped him off and grabbed a cup to fill with water. He took a long drink before he glares at his friend.

"Aelin texted me," he said, "she wants to meet for coffee later. To talk."

"And your first response was to vomit?" Fenrys asked, brow quirked.

"Yes," Rowan affirmed.

"If you're looking for sympathy, you're not finding it from me," Fenrys said. He pulled a soda from the fridge and cracked it open, "I'm a sucker for Aelin and would choose her over you any day."

Rowan scowled. "Thanks man,"

"Anytime," Fenrys said. He ripped an invisible hat as he left the break room.

Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew that Fenrys was right. It was a miracle he'd even managed to hold onto any of his friends.  For some reason, they’d all stayed with him.  For the most part.  Elide and Lysandra were the exceptions.  Neither of them, no matter the situation, even bothered to look at him.

One year.

He didn’t blame them.

So now Rowan had the chance to meet with Aelin and, hopefully, talk to her.  If she yelled that was fine.  If she threw things at him that was fine too.  As long as he got the chance to be around her at least once more.

Oh hell he actually had to talk to her didn’t he?

It was going to be an impossibly long day full of Rowan hating himself and coming to terms with the fat that Aelin was going to kill him.  

And despite the fact that he’d had a year to prepare for this, Rowan couldn’t have been further from being ready.  In all honesty all the scenarios he’d come up with in the last year had not prepared him for this in the slightest.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Rowan barely got anything done throughout the day.  Every time he would start on something his mind would begin to wander and he’d find himself on Aelin’s social media pages.  Which consequently would make things worse. 

Photo after photo were of her and Sam.  Italy, Paris, white beaches, and blue waters.  She was a goddess in each and every picture.  And the smile in each picture, Rowan had to remind himself, weren’t meant for him but for another man.  A man who knew how not to screw up the greatest thing in his life.

As he left his office, Rowan took care to avoid running into Fenrys, Lorcan, or any of the others.  He knew full well that Fenrys wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut and Rowan wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone else telling him he was an idiot.  Even Lorcan had avoided talking to him for several months after the incident.  Lorcan whose least favorite person was Aelin.

Granted Lorcan was a better man than he was on so many levels.

Brown shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he headed down the street towards the coffee shop Aelin had indicated.  It was a small place Rowan had passed by several times but had never bothered to go in.  The shop was small and had such a niche ambiance that Rowan never felt like he could go in.

Now as he entered the small space with its rich scents of chai and chocolate, Rowan’s concerns were confirmed.

A woman with chin length black hair and warm, bronze skin greeted him from behind the counter.  As Rowan glanced over the menu, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Aelin chose this place.  Half the menu was devoted to pastries.

“He wants a black coffee, Nesryn,” a soft voice said from behind him.  

Rowan winced and turned to where Aelin sat at a small table tucked into a corner.  She already had a large slice of cake in front of her.

Nesryn fixed Rowan with a glare and nodded while muttering under her breath in French.  He had no doubts that she knew exactly who he was.  Death was most certainly in his future.

Rowan waited until his coffee was finished and paid for--a generous tip added to the jar on the counter—before he joined Aelin.  

He didn’t know what to do other than pull the other chair out from the table and take a seat across from her.  They sat in silence like that for a long time.  Aelin slowly ate her slice of cake and sipped on her own drink.  Rowan was startled to see that it was a cup of tea instead of her standard double shot of espresso with hemp milk and cinnamon.

“You wanted to talk before,” Aelin said slowly.  It had barely been three days since that party and she couldn’t believe that she had actually let herself meet with him so soon after being staunchly against it.  She kind of hated herself for it, but she would deal with that later. “So let’s talk.”

She still didn’t look him directly in the eye.  Rowan could see creases in her makeup lining on her eyelids.  Her lipstick had long since worn off and he could tell she’d been chewing on her lips like always.  A habit that even a year hadn’t taken away.  She was still beautiful of course.

“I’m sorry, Rowan said immediately.  

Aelin flinched at his words and dragged her teeth over her fork as she scraped as much frosting off the tines as possible.

“And,” Rowan continued, “I can’t...I’ve never forgiven myself for what I put you through.”

Soft classical music played overhead.  It reminded Rowan so much of what Aelin liked playing--the gentle folds of notes blending together until they reached a crescendo of sound, of feeling.  And then slowly fading bad into those gentle folds.  

It wasn’t until a new track started that Rowan continued.  There was so much he wanted to say to her, but given with what he did he wasn’t entirely sure what good any of his words would do.  Perhaps they would at least help him move on.  Maybe.

“I never wanted any of this to happen.  I never wanted to hurt you.” Rowan stared at his coffee.  His words sounded hollow to his own ears and he couldn’t imagine how Aelin was handling his ramblings. “It just seemed for the longest time we were never on the same page.  Nothing was changing and we...we were barely treading water together.”

Aelin pushed the plate of cake away and crossed her arms over her chest.  Rowan could feel her eyes digging into him but he was too much a coward to look up and meet that gaze.

“So you left,” Aelin said.  “Instead of waiting and trying to make our relationship work, you ran.”

“I’ve regretted it every day,” Rowan whispered.

Music continued to play overhead and a few people trickled in to order drinks or dessert.  No one lingered long however, despite the empty tables, the warmth as compared to the outside.  In and out.  In and out, the customers drifted.

Aelin’s phone buzzed on the table.  She glanced at the message and sighed.  Barely sparing him a look, she stood grabbing her coat and pulled it on.

“I need to go,” she murmured.  

Finally, Rowan glanced up at her.  Her eyes were rimmed red, yet she hadn’t shed any tears.  Instead the sorrow on her face turned fierce.

“Aelin,” Rowan began, he started to rise, but Aelin held a hand up.

“My boyfriend needs me,” she said.  And then she spun on her heel and left the little shop.

Rowan stood next to that little table in the back corner of that shop and watched her go.  He watched through the front window until she crossed the street and disappeared around the corner.

He would never get over the idea of her walking away.

#

Sam was waiting for her in the kitchen of her apartment. He smiled brightly as he looked up from the stove. He was making something that smelled like spices, and warmth, and home.

"Alright, so this is something my mom used to make around Christmas," Sam said. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a dopey sort of grin on his face. "And I know you've had a long week."

Aelin can't help but smile gratefully. She hangs her coat up on the hook beside the door and drops her purse on the small side table there too.

"It smells wonderful," she said. Coming into the kitchen she took a seat at the counter so she could watch Sam as he chopped vegetables and slowly stirred the pot.  From what she could tell is was a stew of some sort.

"How was your day?" He asked. As if he didn't know. She'd told him that she was going to meet with Rowan, and while he might not have known what had transpired in that relationship, he'd known something. And especially after the conversation she’d had with Chaol, Aelin knew she had to open the doors of communication and honesty.

And it sucked.

“It’s better now,” she said.

He smiled softly and poured her a glass of wine.  It was different from what she usually drank but she was just grateful he was even here that he’d stayed.

When they first got together almost six months ago it had been something haphazard.  Slow but quick.  Random but natural.  And after everything with Rowan...Sam had helped her pull herself together. 

It had been something she’d never thought possible.  She’d thought that Rowan was her soulmate.  That he would always and forever be her person.  

As she sipped her drink, Aelin watched Sam work.  He talked endlessly about winter nights where he’d helped his mother with cooking dinner for the family.  The stew had been his favorite comfort food and thus figured it would be something she might enjoy.

And then he told horrible stories of other occasions where he’d burned dinner too.

Aelin cackled at the idea of him setting off the smoke alarm and having to wave a towel around like a madman.  

“I swear I was banned from the kitchen for a full month after that,” Sam laughed.  He set the table, simple settings of Aelin’s mismatched bowls and cutlery.  

“Well you can’t do anything worse than what I could do,” Aelin said.

Grinning, Sam pressed kiss to her forehead and took a seat next to her.

Through the meal, Aelin was able to press everything else about her day away.  She could forget Rowan.  She could forget the past year.  She could see herself changing.

Maybe it was that notion that caused her to lose her appetite.

“So, what prompted you to make me dinner,” she asked, pushing her half-eaten bowl away.  “Your text sounded off.”

Sam shrugged halfheartedly.  He’d removed his tie long ago and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.  He looked so relaxed and at ease that the slight pang of panic Aelin had felt just moments ago returned full force.

“I’ve just been thinking about you,” he said honestly.  He smiled again in that same delightfully silly way that he had.

Aelin knew that wasn’t all that was on his mind.  She rolled her eyes and kicked him beneath the table. “And?”

He opened and closed his mouth before taking a large bite of stew to get out of answering.

Aelin stuck her tongue out at him and rose to get a start of dishes.

“Nope,” Sam said, he snatched a hand out and grabbed her wrist.  He swallowed his bite of food and shook his head. “You have no responsibilities tonight.”

“Oh?” Aelin arched a brow.  “None at all?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then why the hell am I not in my pajamas yet?”

Aelin ran her fingers through his hair and hurried off to her room, more than ready to be out of her work clothes.  And, in all honesty, needing to get away for a breath.

There was something about the way that Sam looked at her just now.  Something about how he’d been acting recently.  It wasn’t anything bad, but it was enough to make Aelin’s breath catch, her pulse race.  There was something about him.  The man.  

She’d never really noticed it before.  Not in all the time that she’d been dating Rowan.  But when she and Sam had been in in Paris working on the extended project together.  She’d seen in then.  There was compassion and honor written all along the threads that made Sam who he was.  And now...now those threads were becoming more and more noticeable.

By the time Aelin had changed, Sam was already started on the dishes.  He topped her wine off and allowed her to help him dry what wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

“Aelin,” Sam said after they’d started the dishwasher and left the last few items out to dry.

“Hm?” Aelin hummed taking a long sip of wine.

Sam stepped closer, placing his hands on her waist.  He was trim, lean, and obviously in good shape, but not bulky or broad like other men.  It didn’t deter Aelin’s attraction to him though.

She leaned into him, willing herself to play on those subtle emotions building in her body.

Sam pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth before hovering just before her--waiting to give her a longer more meaningful kiss.

He’d been patient with her the last six months. Never pressuring her into sex or anything more intimate than she was ready for.  And Aelin would be forever grateful to him for it.  But she also couldn’t help but wonder how long that patience would last.

As Rowan had shown, men had their limits.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut.  She would not focus on him.  Not now.  So she closed the distance between her and Sam and kissed him.  It was somewhat sloppy as he’d not been expecting her to move so suddenly, but Sam was quick to recover.

She could most certainly get used to him.  Every little thing about him.

“I love you,” Sam said.  So carefully his lips moved against hers as they sounded out the words.

I love you. 

I love you.

Aelin’s hands froze at the lower buttons of his shirt.  She’d gotten a little out of hand, not that she was too sorry.  But his words just reminded her what was really happening.

She opened her eyes and stared into his golden gaze.  Her throat constricted as she found herself pulling him closer, closer.

“You love me?” she whispered.

Sam nodded once, firm and definite.

Aelin felt her breath slip out too quickly from her lungs as she kissed Sam again.

December 20th

It was ten o’clock the next evening when Aelin was knocking at the door. Someone swore behind it and Yrene answered. She was still dressing for the day, still wearing makeup. Still holding her case notes in one hand.

"I'm going have to start charging you extra if you keep showing up like this," the woman said. But she let Aelin into the office all the same.

"Fine by me," Aelin replied. 

The office was dimly lit by a single lamp and a pile of take out containers from an Indian restaurant took over the table.

"So do you live here or what?" Aelin asked. She turned a lifted a brow at Yrene.

Snorting, Yrene ignored Aelin and crossed to the chair she usually took over and sat down.

"What are we talking about tonight, Aelin?" Yrene asked.

Why was she here? Aelin had no idea. She just knew she didn't want to go home. If she went home, she knew Sam would be there because he was too good for her. He was planning on a late night of hot chocolate and cheesy Christmas movies. And Aelin should want to be there. But she was the idiot who went out for coffee with her ass of an ex. An even bigger ass than Chaol had been.

"I talked to him," Aelin said. "At least I listened to him."

"And? Do you feel better?"

"No." Aelin answered immediately.  “Because my current boyfriend who is the best man I could ask for after the hellhole that is Rowan Whitethorn.  My current boyfriend told me he loves me.  And what do I do but give him a kiss and tell him thanks.  He barely left my place half an hour ago before I came here.”

Yrene gave her a bland look. “Don’t you have friends for this?  This is girl talk Aelin.”

Aelin cursed and pushed herself off the couch.  She stood there for several long moments. “Why can’t I love him?  I want to.  Dammit, I want to.  But, I just…”

“What?” Yrene prompted softly when Aelin didn’t continue.  “But what, Aelin?”

“But what if it happens again?” Aelin asked.  She looked at Yrene and shook her head. “I thought I could trust Rowan and then he cheated on me.  I think I can trust Sam.  But I just can’t go through it all again.”

Neither of them spoke as Yrene makes a note in her little booklet.  She lets Aelin stand there breathing heavily and collect her thoughts.

But Aelin isn’t thinking much aside from being angry.  Angry at Rowan especially.

“He had no right to tell me he still loves me,” Aelin said suddenly.  “If he’d really wanted to talk why would he do that to me?  Why would he put me in that position?”

“Would you have listened any other way?” Yrene asked.  Aelin shot her an angry look and Yrene held up a finger. “All I’m saying is that he might not even know how to deal with it all either.  Have either of you moved on?”

“I’m trying,” Aelin whispered.

“And I am so proud of you for that,” Yrene said with so much conviction that Aelin felt tears prick her eyes. “But I also want you to consider what else might be holding you back.  You talked to Rowan; you made that step.  What else can you do?  Do you think you could—”

Yrene cut herself off and frowned.  Aelin watched her have an internal battle.  

Finally, Yrene shook her head. “Do you think you could forgive him?”

Aelin cursed and stalked to the office door, closing it with a loud snap.

#

December 23rd

Rowan decided that he hated the holidays.

And he did not have to explain himself for it.

Besides, everyone basically already knew why he did.  And that it was his own fault for being in such a miserable state of existence.

Because of course he’d tried.  He’d tried to reach out to Aelin in the past year, just for some sort of reconciliation.  He’d never gotten anything in response.  Connall told him to try therapy.  Lorcan told him to try drinking himself to oblivion.  Fenrys had ignored him for the better part of the year.

And now they were in the holidays and Rowan had to at least try and not be a “broody old buzzard.”

As Aelin would have said.

He was a fool.  An utter waste of a fool.

“Remind me again why you’re having another holiday party?” Rowan asked Dorian that night.

Unlike the last party, this one was far more casual with far more alcohol and far less dress code.

“Because this one will actually be fun,” Dorian told him lightly.  

The man still didn’t like Rowan, of course, but he had been gracious enough to allow Rowan to join his other friends to the invite.

“Especially when Aelin gets here and skins you alive,” Doran added.  With a feral grin that he’d likely learned from Manon Blackbeak, Dorian slapped Rowan on the back with far too much force and left him alone.

He needed a whisky.

As Rowan went to get a drink, he heard more guests arrive.  He glanced up to see Elide Lochan give a squealing hug to Lysandra.

Elide, he knew, was a longtime friend of Manon’s as well as a somewhat potential girlfriend of sorts to Lorcan.  Rowan wasn’t sure and didn’t really want to ask knowing Lorcan would likely punch him.  Elide was also a friend of Aelin’s so he would also be avoiding her.

“Oh look, it’s the ass,” Elide said as she calmly slipped past Rowan to grab a beer for her and her friend.

“Lochan,” he said looking down at her.

She fixed him with a sharp smile that was mostly teeth and derision.  Lorcan better pray he never get on the woman’s bad side.

The night was progressing far too slowly for Rowan’s tastes and he debated to simply walk out.  No one really wanted him there anyways.  He had to squash that plan when Aelin entered, her new boyfriend at her side.

As always, Aelin looked phenomenal.  

Her hair was straightened and pulled into a low ponytail so it hung down her back.  Her makeup was simple with only bright red lipstick as the biggest accent.  If Rowan hadn’t already been screwed over by the sight, the tight black dress she wore did the trick.

Hell she was glorious.

But he shouldn’t look at her like that.  He had no right to.  Not anymore.

Rowan knocked back his whiskey and refilled his drink.  What was he even doing here?

Aelin was laughing too loudly at something Manon said.  The two it seemed had the potential of becoming friends which in and of itself should terrify everyone.

He knew he must have been staring too long and too intently because Aelin chose that moment to look at him.  The light that burned in her eyes snuffed out almost immediately and Rowan felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

He was a damned fool.

#

Like everything else in her life, tonight wanted to screw her over.

Aelin found Rowan staring at her.  Blatantly.  A slight haze of panic wrapped around her, until her felt Sam’s hand cup her elbow and pull her into his side.  For that she was grateful.  Grateful for that small ounce of support.  Even though she couldn’t quite focus on anything, she could focus on Sam and the fact that he was there.

“Oh, we’re so excited,” Lysandra said, pulling Aelin from her tunnel vision of self-doubt. “It’s a miracle there was even an opening at the venue, but it’s going to be perfect.”

“That vineyard is so beautiful,” Elide agreed.  She wore her hair long with her straight-line bangs finally growing out to the point that she could part her hair properly and style her hair the way she wanted to.  Aelin had tried to convince Elide that getting bangs was not a good idea.  But Elide had been drunk and on a mission.

“You’re going to make me play the piano outside?” Aelin complained. At least she could somehow contribute to the conversation even though she was lightyears away from the party.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Lysandra insisted.  She sent a wink Aelin’s direction as if to prove the worries were unfounded.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

This was normal.  She could do normal.  She could do easy and relaxed.  All of her friends were here.  All of the people she knew and loved.  With of course the one exception.

“I just can’t believe you guys were able to squeeze your way onto the top of the list,” Manon said.  She not so subtly thrust a drink into Aelin’s hand.  Something that would most definitely get her drunk, no doubt.

There was the briefest of pauses where Lysandra and Aedion exchanged a look that was so quick and practiced that Aelin first thought how wonderful it was that they knew each other so well to communicate the way that they did and then a terrible sense of foreboding.

It was seconds.  Seconds spanning years.

“Rowan helped,” Lysandra finally admitted.  The guilt on her face was evident.

Aelin immediately took a sip of the drink Manon had made her.  Oh yes, it was certainly going to make her forget about the night.

“He knows someone who knows someone,” Lysandra added.  She glanced over her shoulder to where Rowan was still hiding near the kitchen.

His feature’s in their perpetual scowled lightened only for an instant. “My friend, Ren owed me a favor.”

“Ren?” Aelin couldn’t help but burst out.  Ren was the last person she would have expected Rowan to interact with.  Even though she was part of the reason the two even knew each other. “He hates you.”

“I became one of his managers in his company,” Rowan said softly.  He met Aelin’s eyes. “Helped him from going bankrupt.”

Her mouth went dry and she had to fight against her automatic instinct to drown the rest of the hellish drink in her hand.  Instead she nodded once.  Stiffly.

Well here’s to doing something right, she wanted to say.  She wanted to scream.  She wanted to do anything but stand there and tell Lysandra and Aedion how excited she was.

But what else was there?  She would not make a scene.  Not so close to the holiday.  Not when somehow everyone had moved on with their lives.

And then as a saving grace, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Deliberately, she leaned up to kiss Sam on the cheek before excusing herself.

By the time she made it to the hall outside the apartment, she’d missed the call entirely.  Aelin scowled to herself and headed downstairs.  As long as she had escaped, she would make the most of it.  

Outside, the wind had settled.  At least she had a coat this time.  Her coat with the long sleeves and deep pockets.  

The missed call was from Yrene which made Aelin roll her eyes.  Now who was bothering who?  But she called back all the same.

“Hello Aelin,” Yrene’s calm voice came on.

“Are you upset that I made it one day without bothering you?” Aelin asked with a low chuckle.  

She walked a few steps down the block, careful to avoid chunks of ice from a brief dusting snow last night combined with the sudden chill of last week.

“I just like checking in on my people,” Yrene said.  The line went silent for a minute. “Are you okay?”

Aelin let out a long breath, glad Yrene couldn’t see her.  But it seemed that the therapist could read people well enough without actually seeing their face.

“I’m fine,” Aelin said.  She tilted her head up to the dark sky and watched as the first few flakes of snow began to descend.

Yrene made a disbelieving grunt on the other end, but remained silent.

“I am,” Aelin insisted.  “I’m surrounded by my people.”

“Alright,” Yrene said, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Aelin promised.

As she hung up, she took a long breath and told herself it was fine for not going into everything with Yrene.  Because she was fine.  Really.

She turned to head back inside and came face to face with Rowan.  He remained a few feet off, just descending the steps from the apartment building.  At first, it seemed he didn’t even see her.  Until he turned.

They stood there, feet apart.  Worlds apart.  So far from where they had been.

“I was just leaving,” Rowan said.

Aelin stared.

“I didn’t even want to be there anyways,” Rowan continued.

Snow continued to fall.  The large flakes weren’t that imposing.  It would end quickly, at least that’s what Aelin had always heard.  A large snow would come and go, but the small one always lingered.

“Why would you even be there?” Aelin asked.  She shook her head, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “You don’t even like Dorian.  And Lys and Aedion will tie you to a spit and burn you alive.  Why—”

She cut herself off before saying something truly unnecessary.  Collecting her thoughts, Aelin breathed in the bone chilling air. 

“Don’t you realize how hard this is for me?  I’m done trying Rowan.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Try?  Did you try Aelin?  Or are you just like me, running away.  It’s what you did back then too.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” she hissed.

Aelin drew herself up so close to him.  Close enough to smell his cologne.  It hadn’t changed in all this time.  Close enough to see the dark flecks of his green eyes.  They were just as bold as before.  Close enough to remember.  

Tears sprung to her eyes as she stumbled back.  Too close.  Too close.

Rowan cursed and ran both hands through his hair.  The longer bits fell into his face, cutting across his features.

She wanted to tell him good-bye.  Wanted to say that this was it.  She was done.  Because she was, wasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” he said.  So soft that the words were almost swept away on the snowflakes curling past. “I didn’t mean that.  I just...Dammit Aelin, I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t know how to erase myself from your life.  From my life.  When even after all this time it’s always been you.  It’s only been you.”

The snow fell around them.  The thick tufts turned into tiny specks.  There was so much that Aelin almost lost sight of Rowan, even though she stood mere feet from her.

Bastard.  Bastard for doing this to her again.  

Because all she could see was that woman, Lyria, leaving the apartment building.  A smug, secret sort of smile on her face.  And the woman couldn’t have been more different from Aelin.  Dark hair, tanned skin.  Small and petite.  And all Aelin could see was Rowan’s hands roving another woman.  His lips…

Aelin shuddered.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting what happened,” Rowan continued.  He was the one coming closer now.  He reached out to catch her when she turned away, his grip soft enough that she could have left if she’d tried.  “I’ll spend the rest of my life hating me for what I did to you.  To us.”

His words were too soft, too gentle.  Aelin found herself staring up at him with the tears in her eyes that she would not let fall.

She would not break.  Not now.  Here she was falling into the sense of love and life he always provided.  Hell.  What couldn’t she just let him go?

Aelin pressed a hand against Rowan’s chest.  The sweater he wore was thick but she could still feel the steady thrum of his heart beating an uneven rhythm.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life hating you for that too,” she said.

And then she pulled away.

#

Seriously though, idk what happened here. Oh boy, ooooohhhh boy.  thanks for reading my dears.  love y’all!

AND I promise that I do have stuff in the mix that’s not so angst ridden.

tags, if i missed/you don’t want to be tagged-- let me know, I’m trying and failing at getting my life in order.

@ladywitchling  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow​ @sjmships  @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

[honeyhan-123]

Neon Red

Summary: Feeling the failure of not being able to defeat Thanos, Steve longs to feel something else, anything else, and so he finds himself as a patron at The Golden Circle where our reader (known as Kitty by customers) is a dancer.

Warnings: Dark!Steve, Stripper!Reader, stalking, male masturbation, dubcon/noncon.

Word Count: 4.5k

AN: I’m so sorry there isn’t a Say Thank You update this weekend but please enjoy a slutty oneshot, it’s also a little spin off from the Project Legacy fic (you don’t have to read it to read this.) I would also love to thank @castedcaricatures​for betaing this fic for me and @iwantutobehapppier​ and @omega-nicole​ for giving me their opinions about an issue I had. 

My Masterlist

The neon red sign above the door reflected in Steve’s blue eyes as he stood, staring up at it, hesitating as he stood out on the street. He knew if his ma were still here that she would kill him if she ever found out he was about to enter an establishment like the ‘Golden Circle’ but that was exactly why he was doing it. She wasn’t here. No one was anymore. 

For once in his life Steve Rogers wanted to feel something, wanted to give into his more carnal instincts. And so here he was, wondering if he had gotten enough cash out of the ATM across the street, wearing a dark blue baseball cap pulled low over his brow, praying that no one would recognise him. 

Yet as he pushed open the heavy door and was greeted by the sickly sweet scent of the club, he realised his fears had been for nothing, hardly anyone spared him a glance, too enraptured with the dancer who was up on the podium. Even though it was a bit of a darker atmosphere than what he was used to, Steve liked it. He liked the dim red lighting - from where it originated he couldn’t tell - the plush brown leather booths, the mahogany bar behind which there was an alcohol cabinet that could rival Tony’s. It was modernised sure, but it reminded him of something that he might have seen back in his own time if he had dared do something so salacious and he knew that he had made the right call by coming here. 

Straying a little further from the stage, he sat in one of the lone leather high backed chairs, hands running down his thighs, a little unsure of what to do as he surveyed his surroundings, barely even glancing at the woman on the stage. A server came over, holding a tray with one hand as she lent down, practically pushing her chest into Steve’s bearded face and while he appreciated the view of her scantily clad nipples, he wasn’t all that invested.

‘What can I get you handsome?’ Her voice was wrong, it was too much, too overt in its sexuality. 

‘Just a scotch thanks.’ Even though he wasn’t interested he still slipped a twenty from his wallet, tucking it into the scrap of material that were her panties. ‘Keep the change.’ She smiled, her eyes seeming to eat him up before she turned and walked away, swaying her hips intoxicatingly. 

The dancer on the stage finished her set, a raucous applause following as she made her way around the crowd, collecting tips from greedy hands. Steve’s scotch was set down next to him and he thanked the waitress as a voice cut through the applause. 

‘Once again that was the gorgeous Glitter! Isn’t she just stunning? For those interested she does private shows too, just her and whatever lucky bugger in our lounges. Send an inquiry if interested.’ There was a pause in which Steve considered what the MC had said. Private shows, maybe that’s where he should be. But not with her, no. She wasn’t quite right. 

‘Next up, is the sensational Kitty! Gentlemen please give her a very warm welcome.’ Steve's gaze was at once pulled back to the stage as the deep red velvet curtain parted, revealing her. 

Immediately he knew. He knew she was the one. He watched enticed as she performed, her body twisting and twirling through the air with a sense of grace - of elegance - that the others just hadn’t held. For the first time since it had happened, he felt himself get hard, achingly hard. The desire to reach into his pants growing with every second that his eyes drank up her form. 

He could almost pretend that it was only him, that he was the only one in the room with her, that she was dancing just for him. He didn’t necessarily care about the other men watching her because he knew, deep down, that she was his. It didn’t matter that she didn’t even know him or that he had only just seen her, she was his for now and forever more. 

He waited until her dance was over, pulling a handful of twenties from his wallet and this time when she sashayed across the crowd for tips, his greedy hands joined the others. Swiftly tucking the money into the black silk, just above her vee. He relished in the way her eyes grew larger as she caught sight of the amount he had given, the way they had followed his deft fingers from her panties and up his arm before coming to rest on his face. 

‘Thank you.’ Just those two words had Steve ready to cum right then and there. Her voice was so soft and delicate, just what he had been looking for all this time. 

‘You’re welcome Doll.’ He fell in love with her smile, not that fake one she had worn when she was dancing, but the real one she wore now, her teeth gleaming in the dim lighting. 

‘I-’ 

She was interrupted by a portly man calling her name, taking her attention away from him as the man gestured to her to come to him. Pausing slightly, she turned back to Steve but he raised his hands, a smile on his face. 

‘Go. I need to head off anyway.’ He tried to make his voice as easygoing as he could, not wanting to let her know the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. She smiled at him once more before turning on her heel and crossing the room to who Steve could only assume was the manager of the establishment, his eyes following every sway of her hips until she led from the room and out of sight. 

Stretching out his muscles, he stood from the leather chair, leaving a twenty underneath his now empty glass before pulling his cap further down his brow and heading out of the building, his phone in his hand as he searched Stark’s database for just who this angelic Kitty really was. 

+

It really hadn’t been that hard to find her, the real Kitty. Ten minutes of searching had given him her real name, her address, her credit history, her family backstory. Camped out on the roof across from her apartment Steve chided Stark’s technology. In the wrong hands it could be quite dangerous, having such easy access to anyone’s personal details.

But it was fine, he was here to protect her now. 

He waited up on that cold roof for nearly two hours until a cab came by, stopping just outside the crummy apartment complex. Even in the dim light emanating from the streetlights, his Kitty seemed to glow, shining bright and beautiful like an angel. He watched as she let herself in, a few minutes passing before the light to her apartment flickered on. He blessed the fact that she hadn’t drawn the blinds, thinking herself safe, tucked away on the twelfth floor. She gave him an uninterrupted view of her apartment, of how she wandered from the cramped kitchen/living room into her even smaller bedroom, disappearing briefly into the bathroom before emerging in only a towel, her wet hair cascading down her back, sticking to her smooth skin. 

For the second time since the snap had happened, Steve felt his pants grow tight, the need to feel something, anything, overtaking him. He adjusted his perch on the roof, making sure he still had a good visual of the bedroom as his hand dipped down, briskly undoing his belt and pulling himself from his jeans. 

He watched as her towel dropped to the floor, the fluffy white cotton kicked aside, revealing her body to him. Despite the fact that he had practically already seen it in the club, he couldn’t hold in the groan it caused, his hand wrapping around himself and pumping furiously as the pretty girl in the window got ready for bed.

+

‘Hey Kitty, he’s back. Again.’ You tried to hold in the smile Glitter’s words caused, the jealousy barely concealed, but you couldn’t blame her. Whoever he was, he wasn’t like the other men who frequented the ‘Golden Circle’ in a lot of ways. He wasn’t sleazy like the others, his hands - while they did occasionally linger - never groped bits of flesh as they slipped twenty dollar bills into the thin straps of your outfits and although he never took off the dark blue baseball cap, making it near impossible to see his face, you could tell he was attractive, his biceps bulged and his thick thighs looked like the most comfortable seat in the world. 

While his continual presence did make you slightly uneasy, it also gave you butterflies, seeing his eyes always fixated on you, even when you weren’t the one on stage. He barely spared a glance at the other girls despite them trying their best efforts to draw his attention. He only wanted you. His presence made you not care about never booking a session in the Lounge because while the increased pay of a private show would have been nice, he was always by the mainstage, plus his tips were always far too generous. 

Your heart raced with the typical pre-show jitters, incensed by the fact you knew he was out there, waiting for you and when your music started you took a deep breath, fully transitioning into Kitty, the cheeky dancer, before stepping out on stage. Like usual, your eyes flitted around the club, searching for him and when you finally found him, sitting towards the back, you made sure to give him your cheekiest smile.

‘Let’s give it up for our resident cheeky little Kitty Cat!’ You barely heard the obnoxious voice of Mike the club’s MC, opting instead to go to your happy place. When you had first started at the ‘Golden Circle’ it had been hard to zone out from the leering and drunken men but reflecting back to your days as a ballerina had helped. Although it was now a completely different style of dance, pretending that you were on stage in your pretty pink pointe shoes performing for your family had given you the peace of mind you needed to get up on stage every night. 

Now however, your happy place had a much different setting. You were still up on stage, yet it was a smaller stage, a plush leather couch at the base of it, the walls lined with a deep red velvet, casting a sensual appearance over the room. Instead of a crowd full of strangers, you only performed for one man, a glass of whisky in his hand and a blue baseball cap pulled low over his brow as he watched you. 

You knew it was wrong, dangerous even, to fantasise about a client like that, but it was what helped get you through the grueling shifts and with the way he watched your every move, you didn’t think he would mind. 

As your dance came to an end, you did your usual rounds, sitting in a few laps, having your flesh groped as tips were slid into your red bodysuit. As always, you saved him for last, finally wandering over to his couch, your smile not as fake as it had been.

‘Well hi-ya stranger.’ You joked as you neared, and you thought that you just might’ve died when you heard his responding chuckle, one of his rare smiles gracing his lips. 

‘Doll, I don’t think we’re strangers at this point.’ You smiled as he leaned forward, his hand slipped down between your breasts to place a couple of bills there. You were surprised when his other hand crept up behind you, gingerly wrapping itself around your waist. ‘So, I was thinking… How about a dance sugar?’ Your eyebrows raised on their own accord, your surprise evident. Despite how often he came into the club, he had never asked for a dance. The only time that he had come close was when he had asked you offhandedly, if you minded being the one to serve him his drinks when you were on duty. Although you had felt guilty about keeping him to yourself you had gladly agreed, how could you not?

When you realised that he was still waiting, you snapped out of your reverie. ‘Of course Darling, anything for you.’ Despite how full your body suit was, you didn’t want to keep him waiting, so you stalked around behind him, beginning your routine as you slid your hands down his chest, your lips coming to his ear. 

Most of the time doing by-stage dances you found yourself having to grit your teeth, barely able to keep down the bile yet as you danced for your stranger the smile on your face was a hundred percent genuine. 

‘You know, I feel kind of bad. We spend all this time together, yet I don’t even know your name.’ He shuddered as you whispered into the shell of his ear, being sure to brush your lips against the soft, supple skin. 

‘I’m Steve.’ His voice was rough as he spoke, his adam’s apple bobbing, drawing your attention.Your hands danced back up his chest, smoothing out his shirt as you walked back around, being sure to keep one hand on him. 

‘Well it’s nice to have a name to put to my favourite patron.’ Your hand wrapped around his neck, gripping onto the dark blonde locks as you nudged his feet further apart with your heels, sliding into the new space between them. 

‘Your favourite patron huh?’ You loved the prideful tone that rang through his voice as you leaned down, pushing your chest towards him. 

‘Of course Sweetheart, how could you not be?’ Your hands trailed down his chest once more, dancing below his belt line, skirting the growing bulge to trace the tracks of the rough denim coating his thighs. From here your arms could squeeze your breasts together as you leaned over them, the stray hairs of his beard nearly touching the red satin cups and just as you thought he would lose control and lean into the soft skin, you whipped around. You swiveled your hips as you moved your hands up your body, raising one leg first and setting it down outside of his knee and then doing the same with the other before squatting, just above his lap. 

Your hips moved in a figure eight motion, slowly getting closer and closer to where he clearly wanted you to be. Looking back over your shoulder at him you spoke. ‘Tell me Steve, tell me how badly you want it.’ 

His groan was audible as you continued to tease, never quite touching him where he needed. ‘So badly baby girl. You have no fucking clue. I need you so badly.’ With his groaned words, you finally lowered yourself down onto him sending him a cheeky wink as you did so. 

Despite the clubs firm no touching rule, you allowed his hands to rest on your hips as you moved them, your own reaching back and hooking around his neck, giving yourself some leverage. ‘Do you like that Stevie? Does that feel good?’ 

He didn’t answer your questions verbally, but the way he thrusted his hips up against yours was a clear enough response. You continued moving against him, letting his hands force you down harder on his crotch, letting him use you as he chased his orgasm. ‘God… Fuck Doll. You make me feel so fucking good. Yes…’ His words were a jumbled mess as he came closer and closer and you felt his hands dance up your body to squeeze your tits. 

You knew you should pull away, knew it was wrong to let a customer touch you like that, but the way his groans were ringing through your ears was addictive. In that one moment, the only thing you wanted to achieve was getting this man off, whatever that meant doing. 

He rolled your pert nipples between his fingers, rubbing you through the smooth satin as he moaned. ‘Yes, that’s it Doll, I’m so fucking close. Oh god, fuck, Doll. Make me cum baby, make me fucking cum.’ You moaned with him as you moved your hips up and down his crotch and you smiled as you felt his thighs tense beneath you, a long loud moan coming from him that almost covered the sound of satin tearing. 

Your hips stopped moving as you looked down, barely registering through your shock the gaping rip down your body suit. You jumped out of his lap, trying to keep the material against your chest as you stared down at him, wanting to scream. 

‘Fuck, I’m so sorry Doll. I didn’t mean to. I was just holding it and then when I - it just ripped. I’m so sorry, here. Take my jacket back to the changing room.’ You pursed your lips, trying to refrain from showing your anger, knowing the tips would be better if you could make it back to the dressing rooms before the curses started spilling from your lips. He held out a smooth brown leather jacket and you murmured a thanks as you slipped it on, barely registering the obscene amount of money he slipped into your hand before you turned on your heel, disappearing down the corridor, and edgy feeling creeping its way inside you. 

+

Steve didn’t need to return to the club the next night to know he had messed up. There was a clear no touching policy and he had not only done that but he’d ruined your suit and your trust. He had seen it in the way you had barely smiled as he gave your jacket and then later how you had given it to one of the other girls to give back to him.

By the time he had realised you weren’t coming out for your floor shift, you had already left and when he finally got to your apartment, he was disappointed to see your blinds drawn shut. He had taken his frustrations out on a nearby trash can, cursing himself for losing your trust. You were the one thing in this fucked up world that made him actually feel something and just like with Thanos, he had fucked up and just like with Sam and Bucky, he had lost you too. 

But he hadn’t… not really. You were still here, you could still be his. He just might have to change his approach a little. It could still work. 

The next night Steve waited anxiously on the plush leather couch, admiring the velvet walls as the minutes ticked by. It hadn’t been long enough that he was worried you weren’t going to show, but he was impatient. He wanted, no, needed to see you again, to feel you rub against him as you drew him to his orgasm. Despite the terrible way the night had ended, the orgasm you had brought out had felt so good, it had been his best ever and he had cursed himself for those few seconds before he realised what had happened for not requesting a dance earlier. 

When he had first discovered your apartment and your tendency to leave your blinds open he had thought that would be enough, that sitting up on that cold and lonely roof with his fist wrapped around his cock would be enough. But it wasn’t, and now, he had a taste for more. 

He heard the click of heels through the thick mahogany door and anxiously wiped his hands along his thighs as the wood was pushed open, revealing your silhouette on the other side. He watched as you walked towards the stage, the door closing behind you, stopping just before you got to the platform. 

‘Why did you book the Lounge?’ In the silence of the room, your whisper sounded like a scream. 

‘I wanted to apologise, plus, I need to see you again. And I figured this way, we could talk.’ You scoffed at his words.

‘Talk?’ You mocked, laughing as you spoke. ‘You men never want to just talk. I thought… I don’t know what I thought but I know that I’m sick of it. So now you have two options, you can either leave or I can call security and have you escorted out. It’s your choice.’ 

Steve felt his mouth go dry, he couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t allow it. ‘Doll please… you don’t want to do that. Please don’t do that to me.’ You ignored his warning, reeking of his desperation, but before you could open your mouth to scream, he had lunged from the couch, his arms wrapping around you, one securing your back to his chest, the other clamped over your mouth. 

‘I told you not to do that Doll.’ You writhed in his arms trying to twist away from him to no avail. The small groan that escaped his lips disgusted you as he sat down on the stage, pulling your hips against his. ‘Be a good girl for me, please Doll. You have no idea how much I need this.’ Your scathing response was made unintelligible by his hand as his other dipped into the sparkling blue skirt you had on, pushing the matching panties to the side as he swiped a finger along your slit. 

His breathing was heavy in your ear as his fingers swirled around your lips, gathering the slick that was beginning to pool. ‘See Doll, you want this too. I know you do. Fuck, I’ve seen it with my own eyes how you would dance just for me, even in that crowd of men.’ Your muffled protests turned into hesitant moans as he entered you with two fingers, his thumb pressing down on your clit. ‘That’s it, that’s a good girl. Just sit back and enjoy it, doesn’t it feel good?’

Your hands clutched at his thighs, your head resting on his shoulder as you gave in, your hips twisting against his hand, riding it on their own accord. His fingers scissored inside of you, curling themselves against your walls as his thumb rubbed your pearl frantically. You didn’t miss the growing bulge beneath you but you could barely form a coherent thought as he pulled you to the edge. 

‘That’s it Doll. Just let go for me, I know you’re close.’ You hadn’t realised when his hand had drifted down from your mouth to rest on your throat, but the gentle restriction had you seeing stars, screaming silently as you convulsed in his arms, letting go for him. 

You watched in silent horror as he lifted his hand from your mini-skirt and raised it to his lips, moaning around the thick digits. ‘You taste better than I ever could have imagined, I can’t wait to feel you.’ You shuddered against his thick chest and gasped as he flipped you around, your chest pressing against the cold hard wood of the stage. 

You yipped as he pulled down the skirt and panties, exposing your heated centre to the cool air, a moan coming from him along with the clink of a belt buckle. You tried to worm your way out of his arms even though you knew it was worthless trying, he was far stronger than you. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt him, sliding along the slick that he had caused, coating himself in it before coming to your entrance and pausing for a brief moment. You barely dared to hope that he would pull away and yet when you felt him slowly sinking into your heat, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Of course he would just do what he wants. 

‘Oh god… Doll… Fuck.’ You felt the stretch of your walls as he eased in, pain shooting through you from just how big he was. You lay helpless on the stage’s edge as he began pushing in and out of your cunt, groaning obscenities as he did so. One of his hands dipped down, between you and the stage to swipe over your pearl teasingly. 

‘That’s it baby, you feel so fucking good, taking my cock so well.’ Your heavy breaths filled the air as you tried, and failed, to maintain your composure. Sweat was coating your skin as he thrusted, your knees rubbing themselves raw against the plush carpet. The familiar tightening ricocheted through your body you came close, your toes curling in apprehension, only to uncurl moments later when he pulled you from the stage, flipping you over and pushing your legs up, above your head. 

The carpet was rough against your bare back but the new angle was worth the pain, being able to feel him fill you so completely was worth it. His full lips covered yours, his tongue meeting yours halfway as moans tumbled from your mouth into his and vice versa. 

His hips were unforgiving as they pounded into you, filling you to the brim and hitting that special spot with every thrust. It wasn’t long before he brought you back to the edge, clearly reading the desperation for release written all over your body. 

‘Cum for me baby, cum on my cock.’ Your responding scream was lost into his hand, clasping over your mouth once more as your walls fluttered, clenching around him. His hips stuttered, his thighs tensed and he thrusted as deeply as he could as he came inside you, hot white ribbons coating your walls and groans filling the room. 

He rode out his orgasm, the obscene sounds emanating from your pussy echoing through the room as your breaths mingled with one another as they slowly calmed down. 

You lay, staring up at the man above you, his cap probably having fallen off during your struggle, and you finally recognised him. His beard was full and thick and his hair was much longer than you were used to seeing it but the amount of times your History classes at school had been forced to study him, you would never forget his face. 

The recognition must have been clear in your face as he hastily pulled out, his cum seeping down your thighs as he pulled his pants back up, handing you your skirt. 

‘St-Steve?’ You couldn’t even be sure the words had left your lips but the way he tensed at the sound told you they had. 

‘C’mon Doll, let’s have the conversation somewhere private.’ 

‘We are somewhere private.’ You argued with the man standing before you, the red light casting a strange aura around him. 

‘Yeah, but I’m nowhere near done with you.’ His hand was held out before you and you knew he wasn’t giving you much of a choice so you nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead you from ‘the lounge’, pausing to pass you his jacket as you approached the door of the club. 

The air outside was cold, unforgiving, as he led you outside, the harsh neon red light of the club slowly being swallowed by the dark night as you walked, hand in hand. To where, you weren’t sure, but you knew it would be wherever Steve needed you to be. 

+

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My Masterlist

[hopevalley]

Season 8, Episode 5: What the Heart Wants

I was going to try to follow my scene-by-scene format for the entire season, but I’ve been getting a lot of migraines recently, presumably from staring at the computer too long, so I don’t want to spend all morning working on typing up the play-by-play for this episode.

Also, for what it’s worth I think this episode lends itself to plot discussion better than some of the previous episodes...at least in some sense.

And as another head’s up, it’s back to being critical for me. ;P

Storylines:

School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences

The Dress Shop/Rachel

Postal Service, Ned

Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation

Carson and Faith

Henry

Elizabeth and Lucas

Clara’s Dilemma

--

School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences

This plot felt a little scattered, but for once it wasn’t the kind of storyline they foisted too much drama upon. After years of every single function possible being besieged by bullshittery, it’s a relief to see one go off without a real hitch.

The beginning scene with Robert hugging Elizabeth was sweet. I enjoyed the Canfields immensely and am intrigued by Angela’s role in the story long-term (PLEASE let her befriend Allie!). Nathan...eh, I have thoughts—but I’ll talk about that a bit soon. The actual ceremony was cute and kind of fun with the kids singing. 

Neat Thing I Noticed:

Continuity? Cat Montgomery is still listed as Emily’s mother. ♥♥♥ I don’t know why but this made me really happy???

-

Complaint Corner:

Parent-teacher conferences should have been in this show from a much earlier point, and so should graduation have been. If there was a point to this celebration (the first year in a while anyone was old enough to graduate) that would have been a nice touch, too. It just managed to feel sliiiightly out of place.

I’ll forgive the “everyone in town goes to the graduation” thing because this is 1918...something like this would be a whole-town affair IMO. Invite everyone and have a nice get-together/party, probably on a Sunday afternoon after church but Hope Valley does whatever it wants, so...eh.

The threat of merging Hope Valley with other schools doesn’t fit in this scenario and it feels like they ripped it directly out of Tales from Avonlea which was almost rage-inducing to me.

Look, school mergers happened a lot in the early 1900s, especially around the WWI mark, but it wouldn’t be hitting a rural western town just yet. They don’t have any way of getting these kids to other towns for schooling. Where would the next closest school be? It would have to be pretty large and modern to merge multiple schools together.

*Adjusts nerd glasses* This felt forced and completely unnecessary. If anything this guy could be telling Elizabeth that they’re working on building a modern school somewhat close by, and could even have her involved in some decision-making regarding layout. Then they could bring in a “merger” storyline next season without it feeling out of place.

It mostly just felt dramatic for the hell of it, and it was boring, as was this man’s threat that Elizabeth had no right to teach a blind student. As if they’d accept Angela at a better school? As if her parents could afford top tier education for her? PLEASE.

Now it’s time for Nathan. The man chose to go fishing instead of to the parent-teacher conference? It makes him look like a tool. This isn’t about him or about Elizabeth; it’s about Allie. I understand why he didn’t want to go, but he should have done it anyway. It would have taken five minutes of his time. 

His flippant attitude annoyed me because it went completely against his character as we know it, but Elizabeth’s lecturing was irritating, too. For a moment I thought we had Lorigail back on the show...

I think Elizabeth was well within her rights to warn Nathan about the effect his work has on his ward, but that inquiry took like a week AT MOST. Heck, let’s be generous and say TWO WEEKS. Allie’s concentration suffered for two weeks. There was no need to say more than, “Hey she worries about you and her work suffered for a bit during that time frame, just so you’re aware.” 

I think what annoyed me about the math program thing is that...Elizabeth being a teacher would probably be VERY WELL AWARE that MOST of the parents to her students aren’t good enough at schooling to assist their kids with their homework. I dunno, it just feels out of place for her to tell Nathan that she wants to put Allie in an accelerated “program” and that Allie might need his help with her homework. It’s even more out of place when he admits he used to bribe his sister to do his work for him. Like. It’s very possible he’s not that good at math and isn’t capable of helping. (But maybe that will be a plot down the road...?)

“Or a tutor...” BITCH WHERE IS HE GONNA FIND A TUTOR IN THIS TOWN?! It’s super annoying to see dialogue like this that feels completely out of touch with the reality these people would be living in...lol. But also if she needs a tutor to stay caught up in an advanced program, she probably...shouldn’t be in the advanced program.

I don’t know how to feel about this whole thing here: “Nathan, you are Allie’s world. You’re the only father she’s ever known, and as she grows up you will always be the measure of the quality she’ll look for in a man as she chooses who to marry.” 

On one hand, it does fit the situation (he seems to think everything is behind him but Elizabeth’s words are kind of a caution that 1) his actions still have an effect on Allie, and 2) every day he’s teaching her by example). On the other hand, it seems almost wildly inappropriate to bring up? At the same time, it’s probably not wrong that Allie will measure other men (friends, acquaintances, potential future romantic interests) against Nathan’s example.

I dunno. The conversation felt disjointed. 

I think what they were going for was Nathan just feeling too awkward and weird about being with Elizabeth to want to be there for the conference, but...he interacted with her quite normally after the inquiry and stuff (even after she’d broken things off with him), so...it feels out of place. Like maybe this should have taken place right after the breakup and not weeks later?

Anyone else have thoughts on this and why it doesn’t feel quite right?

--

The Dress Shop/Rachel

This plot wasn’t what I would call a waste of time (rather, it’s worth having it mentioned now), but part of it was completely pointless and stupid. The whole Rachel getting lost thing was tacked into the promos to stir up drama, but nothing happened and there was nothing worrisome even going on. YAWN.

Rosemary’s desire to do something meaningful and different with her life is super interesting. I’m very curious to see what they decide to do with her if Dottie does sell the dress shop.

Also, Rosemary finding the book under Rachel’s bed was pretty funny.

But yeah, I didn’t really find much in this plotline to care deeply about. I guess I am pretty interested in knowing who might be purchasing the dress shop and/or if this decision is to bring someone else onto the show (a female love interest for the man who doesn’t win Elizabeth’s heart in the end, or even to bring back an old character*) or to take the dress shop out of the equation entirely... It’s also just as possible that Rosemary/Lee or Clara/Jesse end up buying it themselves down the line... Thoughts?

*I can’t begin to imagine who would be the best fit for this in this case, though. Who would have the money to buy her out?

--

Postal Service, Ned

Ned is just honestly so cute and fun. I love him. He’s really been doing well this season and seeing him wander around town delivering mail door to door was kind of nice.

Also, he’s one SMOOTH operator! Look at him, talking about putting a bell on the door so that he and Florence won’t be caught off-guard if they’re in the middle of...something. 

Oh my, Ned. What might customers be...interrupting? :3

Continuity? Not only was the ulcer from last season brought up, but the horrid cabbage juice was, too. :’) It was a nice touch. And these two had just enough screentime to be kind of fun/interesting without also taking up too much time.

--

Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation

Nathan got his vacation and Bill is in charge...again. This happens an awful lot. I wonder if it’ll actually impact the next few episodes or if it’s just here for the hell of it.

I love Bill a lot and I want to brag up his character in this episode a bit. I’ve complained many times in the past about him being written like a Grumpy Old Man Yelling at Clouds but this episode was super respectful. He got his scene with his uniform. Nobody interrupted it. There weren’t even any words. I quite liked it.

But it also felt kind of...pointless? I don’t want to judge it too harshly yet. Like the dress shop plotline, this could actually be going somewhere in the next couple of episodes. 

Plus, unrelated to the uniform, it was nice to see Bill acting fatherly toward Clara. While it sort of came out of nowhere for the wedding, I appreciate the attempt at continuity there. Plus, so far this season, I’ve felt like Bill’s almost been a father-figure to Clara, Fiona, and even Nathan, so I’m enjoying that a lot.

--

Carson and Faith

CONTINUITY? The show finally remembered that not only is Carson actually a surgeon, but that was his original passion. It’s not that they completely forgot (S5 had him performing surgery on his sister-in-law, after all), but giving Carson a PASSION makes him a way more interesting character to me. 

And also, finally, this feels like a REAL high-stakes plotline for him and for Faith.

I really liked Faith’s take on things. I know, I know, I’ve been rooting at them to break up, but the reason is mostly because they’re just so BORING together. I’d rather watch Henry twirl around in a chair for an hour than suffer through date scenes with these two.

It’s not that I’m against a doctor wife/husband team. I’m not. I just think Faith was a much more interesting and cool character on the show before Carson showed up and usurped her place (and completely overshadowed her for literal seasons). This plotline for Carson might actually be interesting. Like, a fellowship? For modern surgery? IN BALTIMORE?!

I hope this is Faith’s way of saying she wants a break and/or a break would be good for them. I can’t picture her leaving Hope Valley without any trained medical staff, let alone long enough for a fellowship... 

But if this goes through, what will they do with it? Would they really write Carson off the show? To be perfectly honest with y’all, I’d be fine with that. At least it’s the type of write-off that makes a lot of good sense (unlike some of the other ones we got). I guess this is just another “wait and see” plotline which is uhh...the theme of this episode, huh? Anyone have thoughts on this?

--

Henry

Henry barely had any screentime, but I do want to say he is #relateable. The man is back at work for ten seconds and already exhausted. SAME.

Also, I appreciate that he’s ready to be back in the oil business. At what cost? I know people were worried they were gonna kill him off, and I really doubted it, but now I’m starting to wonder where they’re going with this exactly. Yet another wait and see moment LOL!

--

Elizabeth and Lucas

Some damn fine scenes for Lucas and Elizabeth in this episode. Mostly the scenic ones. :P

I enjoyed the agreement to a date. The horseback riding stuff was pretty cute. 

Complaint corner? I don’t know. I have petty complaints. Even though the celebration for the kids was a town-wide event, and therefore Lucas was invited, it still felt out of place to see it brought up. Maybe it should have been mentioned as a town celebration from the start?

Then Lucas’s comment about not wanting to make things awkward for Nathan (who is actually a parent and there) makes a liiiittle more sense. I do think it was good of him to not go, even though he wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth, but it gave off a weird vibe, like, “Look at how good and wholesome Lucas is!” Is that intentional? I’m not...sure...?

For what it’s worth I already felt like Lucas was an honorable person in this regard. He loaned Nathan money, after all. Maybe he should have told Elizabeth he views Nathan as a friend and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings unnecessarily and/or if he was there he’d want to hog her all to himself or something cheesy. Hm.

My other complaints are:

Elizabeth running to the saloon would be WAY faster than all this getting set up at her house...?? Who thought this made sense?

Elizabeth’s dress looked like a nightie she bought at Kohls.

Too many damn candles.

Characters Do What Plot Dictates Even Though Plot Makes No Sense. More at 11:00!!

I have no further comments on the dress. It needed sleeves or something so it looked more like a dress and not like a nightgown/piece of lingerie.

I think the candles might have been on purpose to parallel Jack...but I hated it lol. Fire hazard? HAVEN’T ENOUGH THINGS IN TOWN BURNED DOWN/EXPLODED?!

I didn’t hate the date scene! But I never feel like Elizabeth has any meaningful conversations with Lucas and it’s starting to drive me batty. 

Could we get uhhh something of substance please? It has to be surface-level nonsense on purpose. Right? RIGHT?

(And no, discussing a book for ten seconds on-screen is not “intelligent conversation” okay...?)

It’s really a shame because I’m starting to actually warm up to Lucas a little bit in this season but it feels like the conversations are just...kind of stilted and she’s not really into dating him—just agreeing to it because he’s the only option. 

And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...he deserves better than that. 

Don’t get me wrong, by the way. If it’s part of the story and it’s revealed as such down the road, I’ll be fine with it...but I always worry they’ll just skip important relationship milestones and/or important conversations and expect us all to just accept it.

Kiiiiiind of looking forward to the rainy date scene in the next episode, though. I’m Team Nathan mostly but I’m keeping an open mind and I think I might actually enjoy it. Hopefully they’ll get some good scenes together that don’t feel like this one did.

--

Clara's Dilemma

Clara’s fears about running the salon without Fiona...are legit. LOL.

Also, this little bit was funny (between Mike and Jesse and Bill):

Anyway, if Clara was that worried about it, she should have just...told Fiona no? I hope it comes up down the road. Poor Molly??

I genuinely don’t know how I feel about Clara and Jesse’s involvement in this episode. I guess it was okay. I liked Clara’s scenes with Bill. I thought the idea of Clara and Jesse buying into the cafe was a nice one. Jesse having “invested” their money and lost it all, though... They did a similar plot with other people in what...Season 5 was it? Or was that the start of S6? He didn’t even say what he invested it in? But he admits the money is all gone? 

I think that’s what was missing from that scene. “I invested it in X, hoping to make us more money, but it didn’t work out and we lost everything.”

I’m not going to criticize Jesse’s characterization, only because sometimes character "growth” doesn’t happen for the better of anyone involved. My biggest worry here is that it’ll be solved by the end of next episode....but I hope that’s not it.

Like, I think they did better with Frank and Abigail if we’re going to talk about a man who didn’t know how to live like he was in a committed relationship. It made more sense with Frank, too, being older and single most of his life. His bouts of selfishness felt realistic.

Jesse feels like he’s somehow getting worse and worse as a person as the show goes on. I’m kind of at a point where I hope he and Clara divorce, because he’s so damn selfish it’s embarrassing. He’s off having a beer while his wife works multiple jobs? And then he has the audacity to act like they should save money when he just blew all their savings? 

I’m sure it’ll work out fine but I hope Clara puts herself in charge of the finances at the very least.

As to investing failures, I liked how they did that with Henry and Abigail. That was the kind of tension and worry that felt natural to me—like she trusted him with her money after he’d proven himself untrustworthy ten million times throughout the years, and he failed and had to uhh admit that. 

Jesse straight up betrayed Clara. Which, if it’s dealt with in a satisfying way...I think can be a good plotline. I just worry about it actually being dealt with properly. That’s a huge stumbling block in a relationship. And why is he continually getting worse as a person? There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. 

Gasp... it’s almost like it’s just plot because they feel like they have to give someone something every damn episode.

--

Which brings me to THE FINAL

COMPLAINT CORNER (The Big Boy™ Complaints)

The show has really struggled with finding its footing. I wish they’d take notes from better shows with ensemble casts (cough cough Road to Avonlea cough) without also ripping off their storylines (cough school merges cough).

My #1 complaint at this point in Season 8 is the SHEER AMOUNT OF THINGS GOING ON EVERY EPISODE.

I want continuity, so I want to see things happen naturally over a season, but my God do we not need to have mindless pointless crap in the episode. Rachel getting “lost” for ten seconds wasted literal MINUTES of screen time that would have been MUCH better allocated to basically anyone else in this episode.

And I don’t think it would bother me so much if it wasn’t also shoved into the promo like it was supposed to matter. It didn’t matter. Nobody cares. Why was it allowed to stay in the episode alongside stuff like Clara and Bill’s conversation?

Or Lucas and Carson’s?

I think they want to appease all the fans in every episode by giving them scenes of their favorites, but what did Henry sitting in his chair accomplish in this episode? Rachel getting lost? Jack not sleeping well/missing his mom? The school superintendent?

Did Bill trying on his uniform have to be in this episode? Did Jesse and Clara’s problems have to come fully to light right now?

When every episode is formatted like this, with 10 plotlines all interconnected slightly and going on at the same time, I feel like...nobody gets the spotlight they deserve when they deserve it.

I cANNOT believe I’m saying this, but this plotline for Carson, especially if it will end with him leaving the show for a while or permanently should get the focus it deserves. But it won’t if we get tiny snips of it here and there and then BOOM decision made because Reasons.

And again, I know I’ve said before that I want more continuity throughout the season, but... the best way to do that is to tighten up the plots. Have fewer of them per season and give more screentime to the ones you choose to pursue. 

--

Anyway, I’m still enjoying the season, but I hope they keep some of this kind of stuff in mind for next season. They don’t need plotlines for everyone in every episode. They need the plotlines they choose to write to be worth their screentime.

Sorry this was sloppily written and all that. Hopefully it makes sense. Very curious to see y’alls thoughts. Feel free to make your own posts and @ me, or reblog this or comment!

[feather-dancer]

For the jlaire fics question, I'm focusing more on the fics that have lots of jlaire in it and that includes the relationship itself and those that have lots of jlaire and go with the plot at the same time.

Hope you don't mind me straight up c/p my recommend summaries I'm exhausted and can't brain too well. I'm INCREDIBLY picky which probably doesn't help but hey least I'm honest. Currently reading through a whole bunch of fics to root out any gems for someone else, the below is simply a list of things to this point that should hopefully fit the bill. I split the categories a bit as I've got a god awful AU habit and I know that's not for everyone.

I'm slowly working on a oneshot myself (Lavender Blue/Everblue) though writing in general has hit a wall because of aforementioned exhaustion. Eventually they will gain another lol

General Tales of Arcadia

Adjustments - Jim may be a half Troll now and all the way out in New Jersey and as ever the Trollhunter but he would quite like to outrun his backlog of trauma, PTSD and general mess that is now his body if he can please

Love, we hold on together - Jilaire post Season 3 and very cute and fluffy.

In Our Times To Come - Jilaire, trauma comes in many shapes and forms but as long as you have the right people around you perhaps you can work your way through them together.

and in the dark i can hear your heartbeat - It’s a long trip to New Jersey and for the only human not the easiest on her feet, still she has Jim with her. Jilaire fluff.

Alternate Universes

Eclipsing Daylight - Jim has spent 6 months in the Darklands instead of two weeks before his rescue and brings a whole lot of trauma, emotional baggage and nightmares home with him. This is the fic that made me feel less bad about Ghost!AU as he’s severely put through the wringer here. Heeding the content warnings is a must.

Lasting Repercussions - His fellow Trollhunters were a bit too late rescuing Jim in the Darklands and the Decimaar blade did… something to him before Gunmar was punched away. With visions and thoughts distinctly not his own Jim has an extra thing on his plate he didn’t ask for but perhaps it could also be turned into an advantage.

My Only Sunshine  - What if Jim was trolled as a five year old thanks to a (Presumed) magical bath bomb? By luck he turns back into a human but only while the sun is up which leads to both mother and son scrabbling to deal with this awful situation while also trying desperately to keep anybody uncovering their secret lest the worst happens to Jim. Expect to feel emotions, a lot of them, and just wanting things to start going their way. “Jim loses track of time” has never been so ominous.

Both Sides of the Sky - Jilaire with a historical regency twist and an arranged marriage that forces Jim into Claire’s path. On the surface he appears extremely nervous of something (Or more specifically someone) and she’s had quite enough of suitors making for a poor match. However, a simple act of kindness can bring with it an awful lot of shadows you might well have better off staying oblivious to.

What the Night Brings - There are trolls in Arcadia, hidden underground and planning payback for having the surface lands stolen from them centuries ago. While there is contention in the ranks nobody dares say no to Gunmar the Skullcrusher and there is no Trollhunter to protect the dissents. Jim unwittingly witnesses what he should not and now carries the scars and no longer does he remain a human when the dusk comes, instead he is now some form of were-troll. What’s worse, he’s having to face this whole confusing mess alone.

Claire The Courageous - In a different universe Claire became the Trollhunter instead of Jim and Steve of all people ends up being the one dragged into the world of trolls with her. That however does not mean that Jim isn’t still involved in her journey in some way…

Atlas, Fallen - When a star falls from the sky it is a punishment so when Atlas suddenly finds himself amongst the humans he had observed from above for countless ages in a flesh body like theirs he fears his Mother is punishing him and unable understand what he did wrong. While trying to find his way back home he gets a crash course in what it’s like to be human making friends along the way. Slow burn Jilaire.

A Brief Reliving of Troll Lore - Camelot has gained unexpected time travelers darkening their doors except this is set in the 7th century and the journey home is going to be a whole lot rougher with survival just as important as preventing history being screwed up. This is a Jim centric fic.

[avatoh]

I Like You a Latte: Chapter 2

Psych Shassie Coffee Shop AU!

Chapter 2:

(Whole Story On AO3)

“O’Hara, no. Now drop it,” Lassiter said, straightening his tie and sitting down at his desk. “Not going to happen, not in a million years.”

Juliet smiled in the way that Lassiter hated, the way that said she thought she knew something he didn’t. “All I’m saying is, you made a bet and now you have to pay up. You gave your word. It’s actually pretty unlike you, not following through on something.”

Lassiter looked away, down at his desk, anywhere to keep her from seeing that blush that was rising on his cheeks at the thought of going back and facing that snarky little barista with the devilish little smile and the perfect hair, and- no. There was no way he was going back there to make good on a promise that he didn’t even really mean. It was a joke, after all.

Besides, the fact that he got the culprit right was a complete fluke, a guess, and it had nothing to do with whatever that idiot was calling a ‘psychic’ ability.

“I didn’t give my word,” he grumbled. “Anyway, I doubt he even remembers. That guy looked like he was on speed. I should have him drug tested, actually.”

“Oh, Carlton…” She rolled her eyes. “You should really be nicer to people. You’re too...”

“Suspicious? Paranoid? Tell me something I haven’t heard, O’Hara. I’m a detective. Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting of everyone you meet.” It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, anyway, Lassiter sure found that out the hard way. He pulled a file off the stack on his desk and slammed it down in front of him. He had work to do.

. . .

Back at the Blueberry Beanery, Shawn was just finishing his shift for the day.

“Were you nice to the customers today, Shawn?” asked Gus, his best friend and the owner of the place.

“Exceptionally. I even made a new friend.”

“When you say friend I hope you don’t mean…” Gus trailed off.

Shawn just grinned.

“Please tell me you didn’t charm another customer into a date, Shawn. It’s bad for business.”

“Come on, son. You know I only do that when I know they’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, but then they go on the date with you or you guys hook up and then I lose customers in the aftermath because for some reason I’ve never known you to go past a 1st date with someone.”

“There was that one person in Alaska when I was traveling.”

“Or so you say. And that was only because you were living at his house rent free.”

“Well not rent free, I worked hard for the room and board.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “Can you please cut it out? I’ve already lost two regulars since you started working here.”

“But I’ve gotten you way more regulars than that. I can whip out the charm when I need to.”

“True,” Gus pondered. “Anyway, no more dating customers, Shawn; even if you did make a new friend today. No more.”

“Gotcha,” he said with almost zero conviction. If that detective cop guy came back, he’d certainly see if he could work his patented Shawn magic with him.

. . .

Lassiter stood at the door to the Blueberry Beanery with a new case file in hand and a belly full of dread.

So what if he was craving one of those delicious sugar filled abominations? He wasn’t made of steel. Or without taste buds, for that matter.

Though the prospect of facing that mouthy Barista again wasn’t helping his decision too much. Sure, he’d promised to come back. And sure, no matter how much he could bullshit to O’Hara (who saw right through him) he was a man of his word. So yes, he was going to go inside.

But he wished he wasn’t.

It only took two seconds after walking in the door before someone was screaming his name.

“LASSSIE!” Great, Shawn. “There he is! I knew you’d be back!”

Lassiter scanned the café quickly to find more than a few stares pointed in his direction. He felt his skin crawl.

“Only because I said I would be,” Lassiter replied. He walked up to the counter with his files tucked under his arm, and Shawn's smile grew bigger with each step, finally settling into a full-on teeth-everywhere grin.

“You don’t have to make up excuses, Lassie. I knew you missed me.” He winked. “What’ll you have today? Wait- don’t tell me. How about a surprise, huh? Something special to celebrate you closing your case.”

“How did you,” Lassiter said. “Wait. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“P-s-y-c-h-i-c,” Shawn mouthed in a drawn out fashion as he twirled a pen around in his fingers and looked Lassiter dead in the eye. Lassiter fumed.

“Just make the coffee,” he grumbled.

“You got it, grumpy pants.”

Lassiter sat down as far away as he possibly could from Shawn but unfortunately it was a rather small café. He pulled out the case file and began to read through it. There weren’t really many pressing unsolved cases since the double murder. In fact, he was pretty sure he knew who committed this crime, but it was so fresh he still had to wait for the autopsy. It was an open and shut case.

Within a few minutes of looking, Shawn called out “Lassie!” at the top of his lungs, similar to the last time. Lassiter got up with a resolved sigh and grabbed the drink which tasted slightly different but even better.

“I adjusted the ratios a bit. Usually I’m spot on, but the fact that you wouldn’t admit to liking it means I was a bit off on the preparation so let me know if you like this one better, okay?”

Lassiter grunted as he sat back down to look over the case. Yup. It looked like this one was open and shut, so he sipped at his coffee while he began checking his phone for the day.

The shop actually was a pleasant place to be. The only slightly annoying thing about it was the barista who was pretty chatty with everyone who came in. At least he knew how to keep his voice down with the other guests because Lassiter couldn’t quite make out what Shawn was saying.

Having checked his email, his messages, and solved the case, Lassiter sat in silence as his drink dwindled down. He was enjoying the uninterrupted silence, but perhaps too much. You know why they say about silence— it lulls you just enough not to notice the predator that’s about to pounce.

“So, do you think it was the gardener?”

Lassiter jumped in his skin, ripped from his thoughts, as Shawn leaned over the back of the booth, face far too close to his own. Far, far too close because he could faintly smell the fruity scent of his conditioner and the sweet coffee on his breath.

“Back up, would you?” Lassiter said. “And stop looking at my files.” He swept the papers and photos together into a neater pile to ward off Shawn’s prying eyes. “This is official SPBD information. I could hold you in contempt of the law for willfully reading classified documents.”

Shawn snorted, then leaned closer. “Or how about I hold you in contempt for failure to handle classified information? I don’t know about anyone else in here, but I sure got an eye full of those bad boys before you so meanly put them away. If you ask me, that seems pretty mishandled.”

Lassiter frowned. He’d had enough of Shawn’s snippy comments and half-baked knowledge of the law. “How about you shut your mouth and get me another one of these instead of concerning yourself with how I handle my work?” He rudely slid the empty mug to the end of the table and turned to the side where Shawn is still leaned over, way too close, and raised an eyebrow.

Shawn didn’t seem affected. He never did. “Maybe I should be more concerned with how you could handle me,” he whispered.

This time, it was even worse than the shouting because it was so low and breathy that it sent a shiver down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up, too. Sweet Lady Justice.

“I—” he stuttered. He hated the way it came out of his mouth, so unlike his usually confident demeanor.

Shawn smirked and stood back up, practically bounced over to the end of the table, and picked up his mug before running off. “ANOTHER LASSIE SPECIAL!”

Shawn immediately started making the drink himself as he was the only one working. Lassiter had only been in the little café twice and all he had seen so far was Shawn there; he was beginning to wonder if there were any other employees who worked and when he might come in so he could meet them.

Shawn headed over to Lassiter and gave him his drink. “That’ll be $4.50.”

“On second thought, I think I want my fifty cents back,” Lassiter said plainly from across the shop as Shawn slid the change into the tip jar. It seemed like Shawn’s yelling from across the building was rubbing off on him.

Lassiter handed over a $5 bill and told the annoyingly gorgeous man to keep the change.

“Wowee. Fifty whole cents for solving the case of the year and possibly a second one. Thank you, kind Sir.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Shawn quickly backpedaled.

“I’m giving you business and keeping my word, isn’t that enough. Besides, I didn't ask you to ‘help’ with the second one.”

“Trueee.”

“What’s the deal with this place anyway,” Lassiter asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How did you get stuck working here and how do you get off talking to paying customers like this? I bet you get complaints.”

“Well, I don’t talk to everyone like this, and I’d like you to know it’s been one whole month since I’ve gotten a complaint. You should feel honored, Lassie.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You’ll complain about me. Remember when I solved that case for you? I’d say I'm going above and beyond the call of duty for this job here. I ought to be promoted.”

“More like fired,” he muttered under his breath. “Make this to go, actually.”

“You got it, Lass-” he stopped, then grinned. “-ieeeeee.”

“I don’t know how anyone stands you.” Lassiter grabbed the paper cup and his belongings then headed straight for his crown vic.

. . .

Lassiter entered the bullpen amongst the chatter of offices and ringing phones, before settling down at his desk and tossing the file into the completed bin. At most, he would have a day or two of petty crimes before another high profile case made its way to his desk, but he didn’t want to wait that long.

Ever eager for a new mystery to solve, he knocked on Chief Vic’s office ready to shake her down for something big.

“Enough, Lassiter,” she said, looking exasperated. “Just take it easy for a day or two, you of all people have earned it.”

“With all due respect, Chief, I didn’t become Santa Barbara’s youngest head detective by ‘taking it easy’. Are there any homicides? High profile robberies? Gang related violence? Come on, Chief.”

“Lassiter,” she said, her voice severe. “Do not come into my office asking me this again. I want you on the Farbaros case and that is the end of that.”

“Chief—”

“Out, detective.”

. . .

Lassiter tried not to slam the door on his way out, but he was never good at controlling his anger. Jules even saw it rolling off of him, judging by the way she scooted away and refused to look at him the moment he got to his desk.

“What have you got on the Farbaros case, O’Hara?” he asked. In reality, it was more of an order than a question. “Bring me up to speed, now.”

“Well... “ she began. “Easy case, really. We’ve already interviewed all the witnesses and the evidence is already pointing in one direction.” She looked up with a sorry look on her face. She of all people knew how antsy he got without something to do. “We have one of the officers already on route to bring him in for questioning. Sorry, partner.”

Lassiter signed. Great. He took a sip of his coffee and pressed his fingers to his temple. He didn’t need a few days off.

There was always paperwork to do at least, so he worked on that for the rest of the day. If there was still no big case to work on the next day, he could always look through some of the older cold cases, which always were fun to do.

The downtime between cases was only fun for a few hours. After completing and filing the necessary paperwork as well as making a few phone calls to get the paperwork and what he needed processed more quickly, Lassiter decided to reward himself with his lunch hour, which he usually took in the comfort of his own desk. Today, just because things were so slow, he decided to leave his sandwich in the fridge for the next day and go somewhere fun for lunch. There was a nice Mexican place that usually took a while to get the food out that would be the perfect distraction for today. He went ahead and called in his order and then began driving over.

After paying for his food, he took it to a nearby park across the street and sat down on one of the public benches. He had gotten himself some freshly made and hot chicken tacos, a treat for himself. The notion of a “treat” was absolutely ridiculous, he realized as he unbagged the food. Perhaps he had been splurging more than usual with all the fancy coffees and now his favorite Mexican place that was a little out of the way. Did he even deserve these so-called treats, as he called them in his mind? He hadn’t even been the one to solve the big case, after all.

What was up with Shawn? Not only had he solved one, but two cases for him in the span of a week, like it was too easy. It wasn’t easy. Lassiter had spent hours upon hours reading and looking over a bunch of information only to have a barista tell him within a short little visit who the perp was. It was ridiculous really.

As if to rub it in his face while he was contemplating the fact that it wasn’t even him who solved the big case, his phone rang: a call from Henry Spencer, his former mentor.

“Hey, Henry, It’s been awhile.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice, rookie,” Henry said jovially through the speakers. “I’m just calling because I wanted to congratulate you on solving the Todd case.”

“Thanks,” Lassiter said. “How are you doing Henry? How’s the retirement treating you this month?”

“Fine, fine. We haven’t been fishing together in awhile. You should never feel shy to reach out. Anyway, besides the congratulations on solving that big case, I was wondering if you’d be free next Friday?”

“Why?”

“I’m thinking of having a barbeque. Just a few guys from the station, nothing too big. You should come by, show the old guys how well I taught ya, huh?”

Lassiter nearly groaned at the prospect of a social gathering, but seeing as though it would all be guys from the station, he figured he would be able to talk shop for most of it. Besides, Henry Spencer was one of the SBPD’s best, the human lie detector, as they called him, and he was proud that he was mentored by him.

“Next Friday...?” he trailed off, knowing full well he had no plans. “Yeah, I could go for a burger. I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you then.”

ch 1 a03

[breakingsomething]

french toast

basic summary: jameson makes breakfast.

trigger warnings: read the tags! i was worried putting the warnings here would spoil the fic, so look in the tags if you want to know :)

the sun came up the same every morning. five am exactly, jameson knew. time was something he was intimately familiar with in a way he couldn't explain. it ran through his veins with his blood. it rang in his ears every second of the day. it burned in his fingers and warmed every tear that he spilled. he owned it. there wasn't another man living who was as powerful as he was.

and nobody knew it but him.

it was far too cold in the bed. jameson couldn't feel anti beside him. that wasn't unusual, or normally wouldn't be, except for the fact that it was very early and he knew anti hadn't gone to bed until just past two. he'd heard him having a nightmare at twenty past three. after that he'd gone silent, and jameson had properly slept. now, he sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes, adjusting to the empty, slowly lightening room. he wished they has curtains, but he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to a situation like theirs.

looking around, it made him wonder what the creator's boys were doing right now. probably all still sleeping, maybe eating food that they hadn't stolen or fought tooth and nail for. maybe when they woke, they'd take a shower without worrying about the hot water bill for a house not registered under their name. maybe they'd dress in clothes they picked out themselves. maybe they'd spend the day thinking of pastries and youtube videos and magic and jewelry and whatever else people thought of. not a thought to be spared for anyone else. jameson almost snorted at the thought.

his bare feet padded to the door, the silence almost deafening. his heart raced in his ears. a-n-t-i? he knocked on the doorframe, to which he got no response. probably for the best. definitely for the best. gave jameson a bit more time.

he went over to the cupboard and quickly pulled on some proper clothes, a blue hoodie and black tracksuit bottoms with mismatched socks that had holes at the top. drank some water that he'd left on his bedside. then he pulled out something that he'd hidden in between his sketchbook pages and slipped it in his pocket, along with something else that he'd hidden in his shoes. just as precautions. eventually, he went to the bathroom and quickly brushed his hair with his fingers before slowly making his way downstairs.

anti was sitting at the kitchen table. he didn't look up when jameson came in, though; he was slumped over with his face in his arms, whistling softly in his sleep. jameson wasn't used to seeing him in just a t-shirt, and for a moment he just stared at his ink black tattoos, marred by raised pink scars from an event jameson hadn't been around to witness, which he was grateful for. anti's hair was getting long too, falling in curls around his freckled face. right now, it was almost hard to look at him and see him as a manipulative murderer, a torturer, an actor and a kidnapper and a liar and a thief. but jameson knew he was. he always had been.

he wished he could have seen it earlier.

he made breakfast. he'd managed to convince anti that he wanted to try his hand at cooking, and his brother had relented after just a few days of begging for ingredients. eggs, vanilla extract, yoghurt and berries - french toast was on the menu this morning. by the time anti had slowly begun to stir, the scent had filled the warm kitchen, making the house that wasn't theirs feel so much more cosy. anti yawned, shaking his arms out and wincing. jameson watched him with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile, waiting for his brother to notice him.

it took a moment before he did. "oh - morning, dap," anti mumbled, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. "what the fuck're you… it's, like, six am, shouldn't even you still be asleep?"

jameson grinned, holding up the two plates he'd already set up and placing the left one proudly in front of anti. "toast," he signed as soon as he had both hands free. "french toast. also, i'm an early bird. figured i'd use my time well."

he sat at the table and slid a fork across the table to a surprised anti, who caught it and stared down at his plate in amazement. "you absolute mad lad, dapper," he grinned, brown eyes flashing. "i knew it was a good idea to let you buy all that shit."

that was bullshit. anti hadn't wanted to buy it at all, and jameson had had to behave perfectly to his older brother's standards in order to get it. like a dog being rewarded with a treat. jameson bit his lip hard and didn't respond, forcing a smile onto his face.

they dug in, the two of them eating in relative silence as a conversation was difficult to have when one party couldn't speak without their hands. jameson tapped the edge of his plate with his fork, the sound ringing out in the quiet. his hoodie pocket felt suddenly very heavy, despite it now being lighter than before.

"doing anything today?" he asked once he'd eaten a few bites, setting the fork down at the side. he didn't feel very hungry. anti bobbed his head and held up a hand while he swallowed, coughing into his hand immediately after.

"i have to go shopping soon, actually," he said, drumming his fingers on the table to a tune jameson didn't recognize. "do we need anything specific? i can definitely get more of this shit if we need any, ha. i know we need, uhh… fuck, my head hurts and i don't remember shit." he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "d'you know, dap? anything important?"

jameson waited for anti to remember that he wouldn't be able to hear his brother's reply and sheepishly open his eyes before responding. "i don't think we'll need anything. as far as i'm aware, it's all taken care of."

anti furrowed his brows, frowning. "i'm sure we… needed something. i dunno what it was." he yawned again, shivering. "christ, it's gotten dead cold in here. and for some reason, i'm still tired as shit."

"why'd you sleep down here?" jameson asked. might as well ask. anti did love to talk about himself.

it took the man a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was slightly slurred. "had a weird fuckin' dream, didn't wanna be 'round you. was gonna sleep on the couch, but i came in here for water 'n i fell 'sleep…" he suddenly coughed again, doubling over and covering his face. when he sat up again, he had gone very pale, hair sticking to his face with sweat. "shit, i don't… don't feel well, what th'fuck…"

this time when he coughed, his hands came away from his mouth red. "fuck!" he swore, trying to stagger to his feet. but his legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, gasping and wheezing. "fuck, fuck, i'm - dap, help me up, shit!"

jameson watched calmly from his place at the table. anti looked up with desperate eyes that widened as he saw his brother's blank expression, pupils dilating to pinpricks. "dap?" he rasped, retching with a hand clamped over his mouth. "wh-what the fuck did you -"

"a-r-s-e-n-i-c," jameson signed with a smile. his movements were smooth and deliberate in comparison to anti's pained thrashing. "i went classic. there was enough in there to kill a man in half an hour, i'd say. i'm surprised you didn't taste it. you may be experiencing nausea and vomiting, muscle cramps, dizziness, abnormal heart rhythm, sudden convulsions…"

he trailed off, smirking as anti clawed at his throat, gasping for breath and gagging. jameson wasn't even sure the man could see his signs anymore. "y-you fucking - you poisoned me?" anti stammered, wrapping his arms round his stomach and paling even further. "christ, well, that's a first -"

jameson grimaced in disgust as anti threw up without warning, still coughing afterwards. "gross," the time traveler signed, screwing up his face. "die with a little dignity, anti."

anti looked up in time to catch the last few words, although by this point jameson supposed his vision had blurred enough that he couldn't see very well. nevertheless, he managed to sit himself up, wiping spit off his chin. "you want me - why the fuck d'you want me dead?" he managed. his arm twitched wildly, and he gasped in pain. jameson watched him clutch at the counter, trying to pull himself up. "i g-gave you everything, you unappreciative shit, what is wrong with - you f-fucking -"

he suddenly spasmed, and jameson sighed. "oh dear," he signed, despite anti not being able to see him. "it appears you've reached the stage of convulsing and seizures. that's not good, especially with your epilepsy, is it?"

anti choked, and jameson laughed without noise, pulling his phone from his pocket and quickly typing into the text to speech box. he wanted anti to hear what he had to say. "you say you gave me everything," the monotone male voice spoke. "then why am i always in pain? why are you always hurting me, one way or another? why do you treat me like i'm less than you?"

"i - love you, you b-b-bastard," anti gasped, stopping to cry out in pain as he convulsed. "i do, tha-that's nottalie, swear, swear, stop it, stop -"

jameson had finished typing his next lines by that point. "you always say you love me but you don't fucking show it. buying me sketchbooks and ingredients for meals doesn't count as love." his fingers flew across the keyboard. "love is not hurting someone just because you want to. love is not demeaning someone and making them feel small and worthless. love is not stepping on someone to elevate yourself. love is not hurt. love is not you."

"no, no, no," anti mumbled, curling up on the floor, hissing through his teeth. "i - i - you don't underst-t-tand - protect, trying to protect, ah, ah, nngh, i'm - dap -"

"and there's another thing," the voice said cooly. "my name isn't dapper. it's jameson jackson. you don't notice anything, do you, anti? this wasn't a sudden rebellion."

"a li'l p-poison isn't gonna kill me," anti laughed hoarsely.

jameson stood. "no," he signed. "but this will."

he pulled the other item from his pocket, slowly, so anti could take it in. he smirked as his brother's breath hitched at the sight of the silver kitchen knife, reflecting the light from the window above the counter. the reaction was so satisfying to watch.

"y-you're gonna stab m-me, eh?" anti tried to laugh again, but it came out more like a weak whimper. he retched again, head slamming against the wall as he twitched. "f-feels like it's f-fitting that you'd b-be - be the one to kill me. if anyone did, you-you're not - the worst choice."

jameson rolled his eyes. "sure." then he leaned down and pressed his knife to anti's bandaged throat. "anything else to say?"

anti was still shaking, blood dribbling from his mouth. but his eyes, flickering from colour to colour and eventually coming to rest on grey to match his brothers, were full of an emotion that jameson didn't understand. "didn't mean to - you - i -" he threw his head back, whimpering with pain. "b-b-bastard, i - fuck -"

jameson didn't let him get any further.

once it was over, jameson slumped back against the kitchen cupboards, staring off into the living room with unfocused eyes. he'd done it. why didn't he feel happier, more free? why did he feel more trapped than ever?

his hands were red.

he washed them. ten times over. then he took a shower and changed his clothes. he stared at his reflection for a full half hour, lost in thought, hands shaking as his nails dug into his palm.

anti was still on the floor when he went back downstairs. fuck, best get rid of him. jameson crouched down next to him and pressed a hand to his brother's chest. with closed eyes, he let the magic channel through him, burning his skin, burning anti's skin, crushing him under the weight of time itself. several minutes passed, and by the end of it, anti's body was gone. eaten away, dissolved.

jameson didn't feel lighter. really, he felt so much heavier. like he'd gone swimming in a full denim outfit. like he'd gone swimming with rocks in his pockets. like he'd - like he'd just killed his brother. there was no sugarcoating it.

it had felt good. jameson had never been more disgusted with himself.

what would he do now? there was no where else to turn. no one else to go to. except - jameson narrowed his eyes. no one else but the creator's boys. the one's who'd called themselves his brothers. the one's who'd left him with anti. they'd left him with anti, they'd left him with - they'd left him here. they'd been too fucking cowardly to come save him.

jameson picked up the knife from the place anti's body had been. maybe he had something he could do after all. loose ends to tie up. more brothers to put in their places.

his hands weren't red anymore. they felt red.

jameson's french toast had gone cold.