#oh. and today she left garbage on the counter that i had to throw away. i had to wash all her dishes before bed last night

[rubiesintherough]

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[mhysa-leesi]

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

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Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

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Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Closing Time (Johnny Utah x fem!reader)

Summary: You work at a clothing store, you get a last minute customer at closing time and sexy tims happen.

Pairing: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Author’s Notes: So I’m slowly getting back to writing. I’m not gonna say I’m fully back just yet, but for this week at least, there will be content! Huge thanks to @toomanystoriessolittletime and @meetmeinthematinee​ for being cheerleaders and giving me early feedback on this! 

Wordcount: 3125

Warnings: smut. oral sex (F! receiving); dirty talk; unprotected sex with strangers (don’t do this kids!); sex in inappropriate places.

Most days you quite enjoyed it when there was barely any movement at the store. It gave you the opportunity of just being by yourself, reading a book, or enjoying some music or studying for college, things that you didn’t always have the privacy of doing at your dorm because your roommate seemed to always be around. Even during the summer and what was up with that? Didn’t she have better things to do?

She wasn’t like you, who actually had to work to put yourself through college and took some extra jobs during the summer so you could have some savings for the following term when all you managed to get were part-time jobs that you had fit in between classes and paid shit.

Fortunately, at the shop, you had some peace and time for yourself. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall sort of place around Venice Beach where tourists could get some shirts and other knickknacks to take back home and locals surfers could find cheap clothing and supplies for a day out on the beach. Most days, you worked from 9-5 and after your shift, you could head to the beach, spread your towel on the sand and enjoy the gorgeous Californian sunset. However, as the summer winded out and the fall winds blew the scalding hot weather into simmering heat, your boss let you close a little early, especially on Tuesdays, when most tourists had already headed home and the new arrivals hadn’t landed yet so there were barely any customers around.

Your plan today had been to finish your reading for class and start the new crime thriller you picked up at the used books store on your way to work. Except, today you were just too restless to focus. You must have reread the same paragraph of your textbook twenty times before you gave up and set it aside, giving the other book a go, but it was just as unsuccessful at holding your attention.

So instead, you moved around the cramped space, adjusting the decoration items, dusting off shelves, and refolding every single shirt in the display until it was perfectly symmetrical while you willed time to move faster so you could end this day. Maybe it was the heatwave that had made an appearance turning the air in the shop stifling and all you had to help you was an old and slow fan that made more noise than blow air. The A/C was busted and your boss still hadn’t called someone to fix it.

Another possibility was the fact that you had to keep the glass doors opened to help circulate a little air and every time any kind of wind blew or someone walked in, it brought with them the crisp smell of salt and sand that always made you ache for the ocean and fight against the temptation of just abandoning everything and heading for the beach so you could cool off taking a dip in the deliciously cold water. Either way, you kept checking the slow ticking of the clock hands, counting the seconds before you could turn the closed sign.

When the minute hand finally hit twelve, you let out a cheer, jumping off your stool and taking a step towards the door. You always locked the doors first to discourage most last-minute walk-ins while you closed the register, put away the money in the back office safe, and slipped out of the store through the back door, taking any garbage with you to throw in the dumpster outside.

Before you could move from behind the counter, a man stepped into the store and you groaned low in your throat. Of-fucking-course! It was like they stood in wait to come in at the precise moment you were about to head out.

“Hey, you’re still open, right?” He asked, pushing the overgrown dark hair back from his forehead and offering you an unsure smile. You felt the urge to lie and say that no, you were closed and he should come back tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure.” You said instead placing your best and most fake seller’s smile. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks!” He replied, flashing a wider smile that showed a small dimple, before moving towards the shirts in the display while you made your way to the main entrance, flipped the sign, and locked the door to bar any other walk-ins.

You hung back while the guy browsed the options, taking a moment to assess him. He didn’t look like a tourist, but also not fully like a local. Most Californian guys that you knew had the most horrifying hair cuts or bleach jobs you had ever seen and that was not the case for the man in front of you.

His hair was dark brown, a little shaggy from too much exposure to sun and salt and it flopped a little over his forehead, just above his eyes. He wore a grey cropped t-shirt that had definitely seen better days and struggled to contain his broad shoulders, showing a peek of toned abs. His jeans were ridiculously tight and hung low on his slender hips, the light-wash of the denim accentuating the perfect bubble butt and for the love of God, you needed to get laid. Badly.

“Excuse me,” he called, startling you and you prayed he hadn’t noticed the way you were checking his ass just now. “Do you have this one in black?”

“Yeah, sure.” You moved towards the drawers. “What’s your usual size? Medium or large?”

“I think large should be good,” he replied and when you turned around with the requested shirt, he was just standing there, barechested, his top hanging from his shoulder and you hoped your gasp wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your head.

“Here you go,” you croaked, offering him the shirt. “We do have a fitting room…” you gestured towards the small cubicle to the rear of the store.

“Oh right!” He glanced over as he pulled the shirt on. “Do you mind if I try them out here, though?”

“Not at all,” you forced your voice to sound somewhat normal.

“Awesome!”

Damn! He wasn’t just fucking hot. He was also cute, the wide grin he just flashed giving him a boyish look that was only enhanced by the almond-shaped chocolate-colored eyes. Biting your lip, you watched as he turned side to side in front of the mirror, checking himself out.

“It think is a little too big,” he said, meeting your gaze. “What do you think?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat and moved closer so you could look at him through the mirror. “If you want it more fitted, then yeah, probably a smaller size would be best. Want me to get it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Once again, by the time you turned back to him, he was shirtless, the garment he had just tried neatly folded and resting on the shelf as he took a look at some other shirts, his attention snapping at you when he noticed you coming closer to hand him the new shirt, giving you a glimpse of a pale, sunken scar running down his abs that stopped just above his belly button and that drew attention to the small trail of fine dark hairs that disappeared under the waist of his jeans and holy shit! He was bare beneath those jeans.

“Bike accident,” he commented as he took the shirt that you offered and you met his eyes in confusion.

“What?” You asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“The scar,” he clarified, putting on the shirt and his lips were tilted into a slight smirk. “That was what you were staring at, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling your face burning. “I’ll just head to the register and give you some privacy.”

I don’t mind,” he shrugged, turning to the mirror. “This is better. What do you think?” He turned towards you, giving you a full view of the cotton fabric covering his muscles, looking almost as if painted on him.

“Sure...” you swallowed hard, trying not to stare. “If you prefer it more fitted...”

“I do,” pulling the shirt off and once again giving you the glorious view of his torso. “I’ll take it.”

You took the shirt to the register and he followed, pausing only to pick up his own, which he had discarded on a nearby hanger. You were expecting him to put it back on, but he just threw it over his shoulder, reaching for his wallet as you registered the sale and tried not to stare.

“Is that the only camera you have around here?” He asked, gesturing to a point above your left and you glanced at the object before nodding, exchanging the money he gave you for the paper bag with his purchase.

“Yeah, why?”

“So basically...” he started, taking a step to the side, closer to the fitting room. “I’m completely out of sight over here?”

“Basically, yeah,” you frowned a little, stepping away from the counter. “Why? Are you planning to rob the place? Because let me tell you, there’s not much worth...” You trailed off with a surprised squeak as he tugged on your hand, pulling you over to the blindspot and nearly pressed against his strong chest.

“Because honestly, I never really gave a fuck about the shirt. I just thought you were beautiful and wanted to ask your number when I walked in, but you looked kind pissed so I got cold feet,” he confessed with a rueful smile.

“So you decided to just get mostly naked in front of me?” You snorted, shaking your head and he shrugged.

“Needed to make sure you might be interested and considering the way you were eyeing me earlier, it looked like you saw something you liked.”

“You’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, not ready to concede just yet. Even if the heat of his body and the smell of sea breeze whiffing off his skin were driving you crazy.

“Only when I’m right,” he flashed you a lopsided smirk and just waited, gazing into your eyes, making it clear that the next step was yours.

Part of you screamed that it was crazy to even consider hooking up with a guy that just walked into your store, no matter how hot he was, but it had been a ridiculously long time since you last had sex and he was so fucking hot, the scent of his golden skin intoxicating and his heat was making you dizzy with want as you looked him up and down, noticing the volume pressing against the denim of his pants.

“We might not have cameras, but the windows are see-through, so get your ass to the fitting room while I finish closing up.”

He flashed a victorious smirk and nodded, heading towards the back while you rushed through the steps of securing the store before joining him.

Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you made your way towards the back, pushing away the curtain that blocked the small space of the fitting room and finding him perched on the low stool that you kept there so customers could put down their things, facing the full-length mirror, legs spread, jeans undone, revealing the bush of dark hairs surrounding his long and thick cock.

You nearly whimpered at the sight, your center pulsing in want as you leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he run his left hand up and down his shaft, head tilted back, breathing hard, eyes hooded. He was such a beautiful and debauched sight that you felt the urge to photograph him, capture that sensuality.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch?” He asked, eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface.

“You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” you teased stepping into the tight space, fingers itching to touch all that glorious skin.

“I did not just spend most of my afternoon at the corner diner, drinking burned coffee just to jerk off in front of you,” he declared, standing up and turning your way.

“Ohhh, so this was premeditated?” You asked, kicking off your sneakers as he reached for you and you stumbled against his chest.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, large hand hot against your hips and you wanted to feel it against your flesh. “You probably don’t remember, but I was here last week and you had to bend over to get something from one of the lower drawers...” he let out a soft groan, hands moving to your ass and squeezing lightly. “Fuck! I don’t think I ever popped a boner so fast in my life. I had to get out.”

You vaguely remembered that. There was so much coming and going in this place, it was hard to keep track of faces, but customers just taking off after asking to see something usually caused an impression. If you weren’t about to get fucked after six months, you would be more pissed.

“So you decided to come back when I was alone and seduce me?” you asked, running your hands over his chest and abs, scratching it slightly and goosebumps rose in his skin as he hissed.

“Yeah,” he spoke in a low voice as his hands move to the button of your jeans. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he slid your fly down and your breath caught in your throat. “I thought about bending you over that counter and fucking you until you’re screaming.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, just a soft touch, but you gasped and arched your hips forward, holding onto his arms to steady yourself. “I thought about it eating your pussy and your ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Those words were whispered right against your ear, before he changed your positions, crowding you against the mirror and pushing your jeans down to your thighs before he once against skimmed his fingers over covered sex, making you ache for him.

“What do you think about that?” He asked, lips brushing your cheek in an almost chaste kiss, completely opposed to the lewdness of his hand exploring your cunt. “Do you want it?”

“If you’re as good with your tongue at eating pussy like you are at talking dirty, then I maybe I do,” you declared, tired of his teasing and you felt his smirk as he gracefully slid to his knees in front of you.

You didn’t manage to get another word out before he shoved your panties down to join your jeans and his lips firmly connected to your clit. He gave it a sharp suck and you groaned, burying your fingers into his hair to keep yourself on your feet as your brain short-circuited and your knees turned to jelly.

He was very good at eating you out, especially because he was very attentive to every sound you made, every tightening of your grip on his hair, and roll of your hips to nudge him into going faster or slower, harder or softer... It wasn’t long before he reached that perfect alternation of fast flickering against your clit and slower and broad strokes of his tongue over your entrance and lips, a combination that drove you crazy.

You were whimpering and moaning, legs quaking with the alternating urge to close them around his face to keep him trapped there pleasuring you forever or spreading them wider so he could have more space to work, but the edges of your jeans were digging into the lower part of your knees, signaling you that that was as far as they could go.

As if reading your thoughts or maybe he just realized he would need more room, he shoved your pants down and helped you to kick them off so you could be completely free of the garment. And didn’t you two looked like a mismatched pair, with you standing there wearing only your top while he knelt in front of you, his jeans still on.

Once your pants were off, he hooked your right thigh over his shoulder, pressing his mouth even harder against your cunt, flickering his tongue over your clit before dipping it in between your lips, gathering the juices soaking your sex like a starved man.

“Fuck! I’m so close...” you hissed, rolling your hips, seeking more because that tight knot deep inside you was about to snap and from the way you ached and shuddered, your muscles tensing, you knew it would be a hard one.

“Yeah?” He mumbled against your core, his breath against your overheated skin making you shiver as he pushed two fingers inside you. “Gonna cum all over my mouth?”

He pistoled his fingers in and out at a fast pace, crooking inwards with every down motion, his tongue matching his rhythm against your clit and it was that made you snap as you bit down on your fist to stop yourself from shouting as your body was flooded with pleasure and all you knew was the unbelievable bliss that surrounded you. Stars bust behind your closed lids, the air came out of your lungs in short gushes as you fought hard not to slide down to the ground because your legs felt like jelly.

“Ok?” he asked, making you finally snap your eyes open to look at him.

He was sitting on his heels, face still glistening with your orgasm, his lips swollen and red from the abuse. His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking and you really wanted to return the favor.

“Way better than ok,” you replied with a gasp. “My turn?” To your surprise, he shook his head and got to his feet.

“Tonight, the only place I’m cumming is in that pussy,” he announced against your ear and shivered with anticipation. “So let’s get out of this fucking store and go to my place?”

“Fuck yes!” you grinned breathlessly at him as you reached for your jeans and he buttoned his over his hard cock and that couldn’t be comfortable.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he said. “Johnny Utah. Just in case you want to know what to shout when I fuck your brains out later.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky smirk and moved closer to him, once fully clothed, the only evidence of your recent climax was the sweat cooling on your skin and the stupid grin that refused to leave your face.

“I think I like you more when your mouth is busy with something other than talking,” you declared and before Johnny could manage a reply, you silenced him with a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue.

xxx

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[kpop---scenarios]

The Ride

Pairing: Mafia! Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Mafia Au

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning: Gun Use, Mentions of Death, Kidnapping, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Sex Trafficking

Summary: Baekhyun was hired by your grandfather to watch over your cousin after she felt like she was being watched and marked. During his time at the diner with her, you and him became quite close. Little do you know the two of you are in for quite the ride.

Tagging: @shesdreaminginoverdose @ice-cold-taeyong @skittlez-area512 @exolnctzens @tacojisung @you-n-me-e-e @puli2things @xlxbaekhyuneex @blahblahblah-boo @precious-seungwooya @michimouse98 @ncteaxhoe @brokenbutchocolate @amixoferrthang @xiumin-tzuyu @biaswreckingfics @milky-baek @reynadelsol25 @maygem2780 @bbhmystar @xnovyx @sunbyun21 @jungkooksworld18 @noonawriter​

You lean over the counter, your cheek resting on your palm as you giggle at something Baekhyun had just said to you. 

"You're so gross. He's supposed to be here for me." Rose scoffs as she smacks her gum, continuing to text on her phone. 

"Oh my god, no." You laugh at Baekhyun before glaring at your cousin, scrunching up your face before hiding behind your hands. Your phone rings, you take it out and look at the caller ID, seeing grandpa flash across the screen you know he's there to pick up Rose. 

"Grandpa is here for you." You tell her, seeing his car pull up out back. As she gets up to leave, you turn away from Baekhyun when you hear the bell from the front door ring, along with mumbling deep voices. 

"Um.." Baekhyun says, making you turn around. You see a group of three men walking into the diner and Baekhyun's body stiffening up. 

"It's a group of old men, Baek. Stop." You laugh, grabbing menus before heading over there. 

"Hi guys." You smile, laying out the menus. "Can I get you guys something to drink to start?" You ask, slipping your notebook from your pocket. 

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing. Hey Jon? Dontcha think she's pretty." One man says, looking you up and down. 

"Absolutely." Another one murmurs. "She would make a nice fit with the others, hey Al?" He chuckles. "It's too bad she's not who we're here for." 

Your hand begins to sweat and shake as you try to remain cool. You felt uneasy but your grandpa always told you how to handle these men, should you ever encounter them. He always told you to not worry about it because the diner was a safe place, but on the off chance something happened, he was only a phone call away. 

"We heard Rose was going to be working today?" One man says with a smile. "I hear she gives great service. Could you get her?" He asks, his smile forced. 

"She's not here but I'll get you some waters." You mumble, quickly walking behind the counter. You notice the spot that Baekhyun had been sitting was now empty. You gather up the waters and head back to the table, placing one down in front of each man. 

"Do you guys know what you want to order or did you need more time?" You ask, your voice shaky. 

"Oh I know what i want." Al says, standing up. "Rose." 

"She's not here, I believe i said." You say, waving him off. 

"I don't believe you." He laughs. All three men stand up. 

"You guys can get the fuck out before I call the cops." You spit, placing your hand on your waist. 

The men laugh as they stand up, one of them winking at you as they walk out the door. 

"I'll be seeing you." He says, walking through the door, letting it slowly close behind him. 

"Not likely!" You yell. 

What a piece of shit.

You felt like you could finally breathe as you watched them climb into a car, turning your back before you even see them leave. 

You walk into the kitchen where the cook was cleaning the grill, the music blaring from his headphones. You tell him about your encounter and just ask him to keep an eye out.

You go back up front and you see Baekhyun walking around the front of the diner as you gather up some garbage, watching him turn the corner. You never understood why he stayed here after Rose left, since she realistically should be the only reason he was here. 

 You take the garbage out the back and through the door to the dumpster. As you see Baekhyun looking inside your car you notice a man with a gun sneaking up behind him, the gun pointed directly at his head. 

"Duck!" You scream. 

Baekhyun drops to the ground as the man fires his gun, the bullet going straight through the window of your car.

He pulls out his gun, swiftly turning around to shoot the man before getting up and running to you. He grabs your wrist, dragging you to his car, opening the passenger door and pushing you in before he hops in the driver's seat, starting the car, putting it in drive, as he screeches out of the parking lot. 

"Shit they had people waiting." Baekhyun spits, pressing down on the gas as two cars follow behind you. "I fucking knew it. I thought they would have moved on since she wasn't here." He mumbles. 

"Yeah cause sex traffickers move on that easily once they have a target." You sigh, rolling your eyes. "They're not dumb, Baek. They know you're there to protect her."  

"Here take this." He says ignoring what you said and handing you a gun. "Just keep shooting out the window. Try to aim for the tires." Baekhyun yells as he jerks the steering wheel to the left, the car behind you still trailing you too close for your liking. 

As you take off the safety, your mind wanders back into how you got into this position, meeting Baekhyun. 

**

"Ayn, this is Byun Baekhyun of EXO. He's here to watch after Rose while she's at work." Your grandpa, Chairman Yang tells you. 

"Watch Rose? Why? Because she does such a terrible job?" You laugh. Your laugh quickly fades away as you see the seriousness on everyone's face and that's when you knew it wasn't something to be joking about. "What's going on?" You ask. 

"She's been marked. Her car for the last few days have had the markings for trafficking." Baekhyun tells you. "This is how they do it, stake her out for a few weeks before they try to make their move." 

"So you're there.." you pause before he cuts in. 

"To protect her." He finishes. 

"Don't worry Ayn. Nothing will happen." Your grandpa smiles, trying to ease your mind. 

You weren't worried. You knew everything would be fine. 

"Don't they know who she is? Why pick her?" You wonder. Your family was powerful, so why risk it? 

"More powerful the family, more money for the girl. Some guys are just willing to take the risk." Baekhyun says. 

"I've got to go to a meeting. All will be fine, Ayn." Your grandpa finishes, placing a kiss on your forehead before walking away, leaving you with the man you soon would fall for. 

** 

The first day Baekhyun showed up you laughed. He sat on a stool at the counter and looked around the building trying to locate Rose. 

"Seriously?" You smile, looking at him with a blank stare. "First day and you already can't find her?" 

"I know exactly where she is." He scoffs. "Back there." He says, pointing to the kitchen. 

"Actually no. She didn't come in today. She had me take her shift today." You say, smiling wildy. 

Baekhyun laughs as he shakes his head, lowering it in embarrassment. 

"It's okay if you're not very smart, you're still hot." You smile. 

"You think I'm hot?" He asks. 

"Don't get all soft now, mafia man. You have a job to do." You say, walking away to serve the new group of people who just walked in. 

Baekhyun knew then things would never be boring as long as you were around. 

**

"I did it!" You exclaim excitedly as you watch the car behind you lose control and crash into a pole. 

"Good job." Baekhyun laughs. "One more to go." He murmurs, jerking the car one more time and speeding up. "Hold on tight." He spits, grabbing the wheel tightly, stepping on the brake and turning the wheel hard, completely turning the car around. 

You both speed past the car that had been trailing behind you, and laugh as you watch them through the mirrors, they slam on their brakes and try to turn to catch the two of you. By the time they had turned around, Baekhyun had already pulled into one of many side roads, turning off the car. 

Sitting there in silence, you squeeze your legs together, your clit throbbing. 

"Are you okay?" Baekhyun asks, worriedly.

"Adrenaline makes me horny." You breathe. You move your panties to the side, slowly slipping your fingers into your pussy, only letting out a soft moan. 

"Are you..?" He begins to ask, but is cut off by you getting onto your knees, pulling your fingers from your pussy and leaning over to him. You lift up his shirt, running your fingers through his treasure trail, licking your lips before whispering "nice." 

You unbutton his pants and he lifts himself up, making it easier for you to pull them down. 

You lick your lips at the sight of his cock, hard, leaking pre cum. 

You place your mouth over the tip wrapping your lips around it, swallowing his cock. 

Baekhyun moans as you gag yourself on his cock. His head falls back against the seat, his mouth hanging open as he thrusts up, shoving his cock further back down your throat. 

You bring yourself up, sitting up, you wipe your mouth, looking him in the eyes. "Im clean. Are you?" You ask. 

"Yes." He whispers as he watches you pull your panties down and throw them in the backseat. He leans his seat back, pulling your arm to help you climb onto him, hiking your skirt up in the process. He holds his cock as you slowly begin to sink down on him, his cock stretching you out an unimaginable amount. 

"Shit." He cries. "You're so fucking wet. You're drenched." He moans. 

You place your hands on his shoulders, you're rolling your hips, curling yourself into him. 

"Oh my god." You moan in his ear, leaning forward. 

You move your fingers down, putting them in between the two of you and in between your lips, rubbing your clit. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

"Dont stop." You cry, rolling your hips in just the right way. Your clit becomes sensitive as your orgasm quickly approaches. 

You lift yourself up from against him, your head flying back as you cum all over his cock. You move your hand from between your legs, lowering your head to look Baekhyun in the eyes, you place your fingers in your mouth, sucking the juices from them. 

Baekhyun moans as his hands leave your hips, moving up to begin undoing the buttons of your top, exposing your bra. He pulls a cup down, letting a breast spring free. He moans as he cups it, leaning his head forward to take it in his mouth. 

Shivers run down your spine as he continues to suck while you ride him, his cock hitting the right spot every time. 

You move your fingers down, putting them in between the two of you and in between your lips, rubbing your clit. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. 

Baekhyun lets go of your nipple with a pop, but before he's able to say anything else, a pair of headlights are set on your car and a gunshot rings through the air. 

"Shit." He spits, turning the car on. You try to get off of him but his one hand keeps you there in place. "I don't think so, baby." He smiles, putting the car in drive and flooring it. "Grab the gun." He spits. 

You reach over to the empty passenger seat, grabbing the gun you had left there. "Aim it out my window. Try to hit wherever you can." He yells, jerking the car around another corner. You wrap your arm around his neck as he looks over your shoulder, watching the road. You stick your arm out the window and pull the trigger, doing your best to keep your aim at the car. You were having a little trouble concentrating with Baekhyun subtly thrusting inside you as he drove. 

As you aim the gun out of his window, a moan slips out of your mouth, whispering the sound into his ear. 

"Fuck baby, you can't do that." He groans, grunting as he bucks his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside of you. 

"And you can't do that, if you want me to shoot." You gasp, clutching the gun tightly. 

Managing to get a little bit of your concentration back, you squeeze your pussy around his cock as you aim and fire. 

"Oh my god." Baekhyun gasps, biting his bottom lip before thrusting his hips up, pounding himself into you. 

"Fuck." You cry out, bringing your free hand up to cup your breast, squeezing it tightly. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you ride Baekhyun, forgetting that you would be distracting him from trying to get the two of you to safety. 

"Take another shot." Baekhyun groans, trying to concentrate, both hands on the wheel but his eyes on your bouncing tits. 

You stick your arm out the window again, firing another shot, this time hitting a wheel, making the car begin to swerve before inevitably crashing into a tree. Baekhyun laughs as he slams on the breaks, shifting the car into park before his hands end up on your thighs, pushing down while he thrusted up hard. 

"So fucking sexy." He grunts. You use your knees against the seat, bouncing on his cock, your tits in his face. 

"Fuck I'm gonna cum." You cry, your hand grabs a clump of hair as your orgasm hits you, halting all your movements, causing you to shake. "Shit." You moan as Baekhyun thrusts himself into you more, chasing his own high. 

"Im gonna.. cum." He stampers, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he shoots his load into your pussy, coating your walls with his cum. "Fuck." He huffs. 

You smile as you both catch your breath before you get off of him and sit yourself in his passenger seat, feeling his cum drip from inside your pussy. "You can just drop me off at home if you want." You breathe, running your hands through your hair. 

"I need to talk to your grandpa so yeah, let's go." Baekhyun says, turning shifting the car into drive and heading for your house. 

** 

"Yes sir." Baekhyun says as your grandpa gives him new instructions. 

"You're to be there all day everyday. If EXO wants us on their side, you better be keeping us granddaughter safe." He says, not looking up from his desk. 

"Yes sir. Of course sir." Baekhyun finishes, nodding his head. 

"You may go. Ayn?" Your grandpa says. 

"Yeah?" You say, turning around to face him. 

"Maybe you should take some time off from the diner. Just until everything blows over." He suggests. 

You laugh as you walk over behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I appreciate the concern, but they're not after me. Besides, you know i can handle myself." You say, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

"I know you're tough." He chuckles. "Doesn't mean I can't worry about you." 

"I'll see you later." You smile, walking out of his office. 

**

A few days later you were back at work, missing Baekhyun. He had gotten a phone call from Rose saying she had an appointment and he was the one who needed to take her and watch her there. You could almost guarantee that she did not have an appointment, she just didn't want to come to work like usual. 

You're brought out of your thoughts when the bell on top of the door rings and you heat the sound of footsteps walking into the diner. You turn around and see one of the men from before standing there, but this time he's alone.

"Table for one?" He asks. 

"Sit where you want. I'll be right with you." You say, turning around to grab a menu. You take a deep breath, planning out what you were going to yell at him. You walk up to him, dropping his menu on the table as he looks up at you. 

"Before you say anything.." he pauses. "I want to apologize for my friends and I the other day." He smiles. "They're into some weird business, we were drinking that day and things just got out of hand." He sighs. "A friend had told us about Rose and we pushed too far, we didn't mean any harm,  i'm sorry." He finishes. 

"If you weren't here to do any harm, then what about the guy who was shot?" You ask, trying to unravel his apology. 

"What guy? Someone was shot?" He asked, looking worried. 

"Nevermind.' You whisper. You weren't sure if you believed him but it's not like you would see him  often, so you let it go. But that wasn't true. You saw home almost everyday after that, and everyday you became increasingly more and more comfortable around Al. 

** 

"Hey Al." You smile widely as he walks into the diner for the fifth time this week. 

"Hello dear." He laughs, sitting down at his usual table. Already you were behind the counter grabbing his water and his coffee to bring to him.

"BLT or eggs today?" You smile, not even bringing him a menu considering he only ever ordered one of two things. 

"I think the BLT sounds good today, Ayn." He says, sipping on his coffee. "How's your cousin?" He asks. 

You had told him that she was a terrible coworker and he always liked to tease you about it. "Shitty, as usual." You smile. "I'll go put your order in quick." 

As the night went on and Al finished his food, he liked to stay and have a few cups of coffee after, reading the paper and just enjoying the sound. Yoh remembers how he told you his family was all gone, his wife passed away years ago, and his children were all grown up and left the house. He missed the noise, being surrounded by people. Or that's what he told you. 

"See ya, Ayn." He says, waving as he walks out the door a few hours later. You head over to his table to clean up his cups and underneath one of them was a $100 bill. He always managed to make you smile with his tips. 

**

A few weeks later, Al was still coming in and Baekhyun didn't like it. "There's something off about him." He says, sipping his coffee, eyeing up the man who you had become close to. 

"He's lonely. Leave him alone." You laugh, smacking Baekhyun on the arm. 

"How was your day today, Ayn?" Al asks as you refill his coffee. "The same as yesterday and the day before and the day before." You laugh. "Work work work, go home and sleep and more work." 

"You work far too much. You closing up again tonight?" He asks. 

"Not tonight, I'm off early tonight but the rest of the week I'll be closing." You tell him. 

"You make sure to be careful. There are some weirdos out there." He warns. 

You thank him and turn around, missing the small smirk that appears on his lips before disappearing quickly. 

At 7pm, you happily took off your apron, throwing it in the laundry basket in the back before saying goodbye and getting into your car. 

Once you were home you took a quick shower, not bothering to use a towel to dry yourself off, you prefer to air dry. 

You walk to your dresser grabbing your lotion off the top shelf as your door opens and in walks Baekhyun with his eyes closed. 

 "Look." He says. "We need to talk." He finishes opening his eyes, trailing your body up and down. "I.. we.. um." He stutters. 

"Im listening." You say, rubbing lotion over your stomach before moving up to your breasts. 

Baekhyun lets out a deep breath before moving to your desk chair, he sits down, biting his bottom lip. "Well.." he pauses. 

"What do you want to say to me?" You ask, standing in front of him. 

"I don't remember." He says, looking up at you. You smile as you crawl into his lap, straddling him. You wrap your arms around his neck, your breasts pushed into his face. You lift yourself up before rolling your hips against his clothed cock. You feel him grow beneath you as you continue to grind yourself on him.

"What do you want?" Baekhyun asks, his voice low. 

"Do whatever you want to me." You breathe. 

"Whatever I want?" He smirks. 

You nod your head, biting your lip to hide your smile. Baekhyjn stands up holding your back as you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands move to your ribs, holding pulling you off and throwing you on the bed. 

"Ropes?" He asks. 

"Handcuffs." You reply, pointing to your closet. Baekhyun gets off the bed, moving to your closet. He reaches up to grab the pair of handcuffs, twirling them around his finger as he walks back to your naked body laying on the bed. He crawls on, smiling as you hold out your wrists for him. Happily he locks the handcuffs in place and pushes your arms to lay flat over your head. 

"Hold onto the headboard and do not let go." He says with a growl. 

"Yes sir." You purr. 

Baekhyun moves down your body, forcing your legs open, spreading them as far as he can make them go. Your pussy is already dripping at the thought of him between your thighs. 

He lays down on his stomach, spreading your lips before flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your back arches for a moment, until he pushes you back down, keeping his hand there to not let you do that again. 

"Oh my god." You cry out, his lips wrapping around you clit, sucking harshly. 

He releases your clit, sliding two fingers into his mouth before slowly entering them inside you. He slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, bringing his other thumb to your clit and gently rubbing, making you arch your back again. 

"Fuck fuck fuck." You cry out, the overwhelming sensation continuing to grow as he works his magic fingers. 

"You're going to make me.. cum." You scream out, your hands holding on tightly to the headboard as your orgasm washes through your body, Baekhyun's fingers still continuing to work on you. 

"Please. Please no more." You cry out, your body trying to twist away from him. 

"Shh baby, you told me I could do whatever I wanted. So stop moving and let me make you cum again." He snaps, his eyes dark. You bite your bottom lip, your body tries to relax but fuck you're sensitive. 

"I can't." You cry. 

"You can and you will. Cum again, baby." He says, his fingers thrusting in and out of you quickly while his thumb rubs your clit. 

"Fuck." You cry out, another orgasm washing over you, your clit throbbing from being so sensitive now. 

Baekhyun removes his hands from you, standing up and pointing to the floor. "On your knees." He states, pointing to the hardwood floor beneath him. You crawl off the bed, your hands still in the cuffs. Your sink down onto your knees, in front of Baekhyun. He begins unzipping his pants, letting his cock spring free. You notice the precum dripping from his red tip. 

"Suck." He demands. 

You take a breath before leaning forward, licking the tip of his cock, swallowing the cum before taking more of him in your mouth. 

Baekhyun's hands reach around and grab the back of your head, pulling a clump of hair to keep your head still before he slowly thrusts his hips back and forth, gently hitting the back of your throat. 

As the seconds went on his thrusts became harder and faster. His grip on your hair tightened as he slammed his cock into your mouth, sliding it down your throat to make you gag. Tears brimmed your eyes as you choked on his cock. 

"Such a good slut." He moans, pulling his cock from your mouth, letting you breathe. 

"On the bed. All fours." He spits, discarding his shirt somewhere in your room. 

You climb on the bed, mascara burning your eyes as it runs down your face. You put your face in your bed, pressing it into your sheets while sticking your ass in the air and wait for Baekhyun.  

You feel the bed dip behind you before a hard slap lands on your ass, making it burning. 

"Good girl." He purrs, grabbing your ass roughly before slapping it one more time. 

Baekhyun lines his cock up with your hole, pushing himself inside you a little bit before he grips onto your hips and slams himself inside you. 

"Holy fuck." You cry out but it's muffled. Your fingers hold tightly onto the bed sheets as your face is buried into the bed. 

"Such a nice pussy." He groans, this thrusts slowly but hard, hitting your G spot everytime. 

Seconds later he picks up his pace and begins pounding himself into you, his breathing heavy as his fingertips dig into your hips. 

"Clench." He grunts. 

You clench your pussy around him, making him cry out loudly. 

"Fuck, just like that." He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Im gonna cum." He yells, his grip becoming even tighter before he stops moving. He's hunched over you, as he spills himself into you, coating your walls with his cum. 

"Shit." He breathes, giving small thrusts as he milks himself for everything.  

He pulls himself out of you, letting cum fall from your pussy, as he walks to the bathroom to grab you a cloth. 

He comes back with a smile on his face handing you the cloth before unlocking your hands, tossing the handcuffs onto your bed. 

After cleaning up, he crawls in beside you, pulling you in close to him, sleep coming easily to you both. 

Late in the morning, Baekhyun gives you a kiss on the lips as he quietly leaves your room, heading home to shower before going to the diner for his shift with Rose. "I'll see you later." You smile, knowing you'll be there in the next few hours for your long shift. 

** 

Over the next few nights of your closing shifts, Baekhyun had to leave early for the first two and had planned on staying for the third one. It was around 10pm when Rose had left to head home and it didn't take long for Baekhyun's phone to ring after that. 

"You just left Rose." Baekhyun sighs as he answers the phone on speaker.  

"I think someone's following me." She whispers. 'I've been taking a bunch of random turns and the car follows me the whole time." She says. You can hear the panic in her voice as you hear whimpers through the phone. 

"Where are you? I'm on my way." Baekhyun says, taking off from the diner. Your stomach was in knots thinking about what could happen to Rose. You just hoped Baekhyun got to her in time. As you watch his car screech out of the parking lot, the front door opens. You see Al walking in, a smile on his face. 

"Hey stranger." You grin, grabbing a cup for coffee. 

"None tonight." He says. He looks uneasy and uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry Ayn. It's not my decision." He says. Before you're able to ask him what he meant, you hear the sound of a bullet hitting something or someone in the kitchen and then a body hitting the floor. 

You look at Al with terror in your eyes as he shrugs his shoulders before you're hit over the head with something, making you fall into the darkness. 

**

Baekhyun got to Rose as fast as he could. She had pulled into a well lit gas station that had many people around while she waited for him to show up.

"They're gone?" She says, looking around as Baekhyun walks up to her window. "It's like they saw you and took off." She says shrugging her shoulders. 

His mind immediately went to you. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He pulled out his phone, dialing your number but you didn't answer. His hand starts to shake as he presses redial before running back to his car. He speeds out of the gas station and heads back to the diner. 

You still didn't answer. 

Baekhyun dials Chairman Yang, who picks up on the second ring. "What is it?" He asks.

"It's Ayn. Meet me at the diner." Baekhyun says before hanging up the phone. His foot presses on the gas, jolting his car to go faster.

He finally reaches the diner, barely putting the car in park before he flies out of the driver's seat, running inside. He calls out your name but you don't answer. His eyes look to the floor where he sees a large spot of blood. 

"Ayn!" He calls again, no answer. 

Chairman Yang runs through the door, looking at the blood then back at Baekhyun. 

"It was never Rose." He breathes. "They never wanted her. It was always Ayn." He finishes, feeling like he's failed you. 

[layniapetrovnaaa]

“No boys”

 Request: @soytrash

Hey beautiful 🤍 how about a cute little moment between reader and Logan with Laura regarding a crush 🥺And Logan is just overprotective, but prior to Laura coming home from school and talking about a crush, Logan is trying to get some from reader 🥵 please and thank you hun let me know if that’s okay or not 🥰 (maybe with the baby from your family series too) sorry if it’s too much I love your writing 🥺🤍 

Warnings: Smut, swearing (if you squint).

A/n: Do you guys picture yourself when reading fanfiction? Cause I do and don’t haha. Typically when I read/write for Logan I picture myself as Scarlett Johansson in Match Point and The Island lol. I’d love to hear about you guys, so just let me know!

Reader is written as under 30 y/o, if you are older, just change the number :)

I hope this is good enough (I’m not really that confident in this one). Let me know if you have any constructive criticism. 

[The Howlett Family series] 

It was a particularly warm day in the Canadian Rockies, warm enough to open a few windows and have the cozy log house smelling of the fresh outdoor air. the window above the sink that you were currently standing at let a breeze into the house that tickled you just enough to have your body bear a small chill. 

As you rinsed one of the bowls you had used this morning to prepare breakfast, your hips swayed side to side in a fluid manor that matched the rhythm of the song that lightly boomed out of the speaker which sat by the fruit bowl on the counter. The reason behind the low volume was that Logan was currently trying to put your youngest daughter down for her daily afternoon nap. If the wails and grumbling coming from the baby monitor was any indication, it wasn't going very well.

You dried off your hands and picked up the monitor, holding down on the button that allowed your voice to come through on the other end.

“You need some help?”

“We’re fine. I just cant find her goddamn pacifier.”

“Did you check on the shelf by her changing table?” you spoke again.

Suddenly the crying stops and you smile knowing he found it.

He lets out a quiet “Thanks.”

You set the monitor back down and go back the the half a dozen dishes left in the sink.

“Kid’s quite the screamer hm?” you announce as Logan walks out from the hallway a few minutes later.

“Yeah she is, I think she got it from her mother.” he jokes walking around the island to be closer to you.

You let out a breathy gasp like-laugh.

“Oh really?” you say in an exaggerated tone, humor still consuming it.

“Mhm, and speaking  of screaming...” he places his hands on your waist and squeezes a bit.

“We can’t baby, Laura's gunna be home in like ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough time. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy--”

Before he can finish you interrupt.

“Logan, you know damn well ten minutes isn't enough time.”

“I just need something [Y/N].” he says as his hands find your breasts and you let out a small moan, abandoning the dish towel and griping the counter.

He kisses your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh, which brings forth light breathy moans from your mouth.

You turn your head to kiss him and you can feel yourself throb a bit when your lips meet. his hands dip into your top and pull your breast out of their confines, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

He continues to grope and kiss you as his dominant hand makes its way into your pants.

You moan loudly into his mouth as the pad of his middle finger circles your clit a few times.

His lips separate from yours so he can speak.

“Hmm, You like that?” he says in his breathy and gruff voice.

You can’t seem to make out any words, so instead you offer an almost whiny sounding “Mhm.” as his fingers inch lower.

You gasp, throwing your head back onto his shoulder, your right hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, as his middle and ring fingers enter your tight lubricated hole.His fingers curling in the classic “come hither” position, making you squeeze around his digits.

Even after all of the time you had spent with Logan, your body still didn't know how to handle the pleasure, that being evident in the way that your back arched and you sporadically bucked your hips back into his crotch with every jolt of pleasure that you felt.

Your moans were absolutely erotic as he seemed to push further into you, finding that spot that did in fact make you scream.

And the explicit squelching noises were making you even more desperate as he fucks you with his fingers.

As you let out another slew of loud moans, you feel his hand come up to cover your mouth.

“As much as I love hearing those pretty noises you make, baby, you gotta be quiet.”

Your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut at his his words and the vibrations from your moans bouncing against his cupped hand.

His thumb starts to circle your clit in the same rhythm that his fingers were moving in.

God, you were so done for.

He releases his hand from over your mouth before he asks:

“You gunna cum?”

“Mhmm” you let out in high pitched whine.

“Ouh! Don’t stop.” you pleaded as that marvelous feeling started to take over.

“That’s right baby, jus like that.” he speaks, egging you on until your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasmic euphoria taking over.

Eventually your body comes back down to earth.

“Look at that, you got three minutes to spare.” he coos in a triumphant tone.

Your breath is heavy and you whimper slightly when he pulls his fingers out of you.

You glance over to the built in clock in the stove before readjusting yourself and catching your breath.

Turning around, you plant your hands on the space where his shoulders and neck connect, and kiss him. Your tongues danced together sensually until you pulled away.

“I wish I could return the favor...” you hum and he kisses you again.

“You will later.” he says as the screeching of the school bus tires alerts you of Laura’s homecoming.

You look up at him and bite your lip, giving him a sensual smile as you nod.

You separate from him as you hear the front door open, going over to greet Laura.

“Hey honey, how was school?”

You could hear Logan in the kitchen, chuckling at your total change in demeanor. 

You turn slightly to roll your eyes at him, but the small amused smirk on your face gives you away.

You turn back to your daughter as she answers you while getting her homework and lunchbox out of her backpack.

“It was alright. We got to watch a movie in my english class, so that was  nice.”

You follow her to the kitchen where she sits at one of the bar stools at the dark wood island, slapping her purple folder and pencil onto the table.

You noticed something off with the young mutant, like she wasn’t telling you something.

When she looked up to see you and Logan analyzing her, she knew she would have to put on a better performance if she wanted to keep her secret. Fortunately for you, she wasn’t feeling up for a challenge today. And it’s not that she wanted to hide what her friends had told her was called a “crush”, but she knew how her parents would probably react.

“Laura, is there something you need to tell us?” Logan spoke.

“Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything, right?” you squeeze her shoulder in a loving manor.  

She nods, taking in a breath before turning to you and muttering: No puedes decírselo a papá... (You can’t tell daddy...)

Hearing this concerned you. Laura and Logan had a pretty open relationship, despite their constant bickering.

Your eyes quickly flick over to Logan, who was watching you and Laura, his arms crossed while he leans against the kitchen counter.

“Que es Laura?”

Logan was accustom to yours and Laura’s more private conversations you had in spanish. He wasn't really a fan, only because when they would occur, he felt left out. But, he figured this must be important and waited patiently before asking you what she had just said about him.

“Hay un chico en mi clase que está enamorado de mí.” (There is this boy in my class who is in love with me). Her voice is quiet, but her tone sounds exasperated.

Logan's brows furrowed when he heard “un chico”. He didn't know much spanish, but he did know that un chico meant a boy, and he did not like the sound of that.

You snort, your hand quickly flying up to cover your mouth before you speak.

“Aww Laura!”

A shy grin spreads across her face.

“What did she say?” Logan speaks up

You bite your lip, trying to hold in your small bit of laughter. You look over at Laura and can tell that, although she is nervous for what her fathers reaction may be, it would be best to tell him about her dilemma.

“Laura has a not so secret admirer.”

“He wrote me a note.” she says, grabbing a crinkled white paper from her pocket.

You could tell by her humorous tone that she found the situation comical, and didn't seem to reciprocate the feelings.

Logan on the other hand had immediately gone into full protective father mode, snatching the note from her hand, and reading over it to make sure nothing obscene had been written/drawn on it.

After he is finished looking at it he crumples it up and puts it in the garbage.

“No boys until you are 30.”

“Logan don’t be ridiculous.” you say, walking over to fish the note out of the can.

“I am not being ridiculous.” he scoffs, incredulously.

“In fact, I think I’m being a bit lenient. 30 years old is a perfectly reasonable age to start being romantic with someone.” he says, and now it was your turn to scoff as you hand the paper to Laura.

She makes a disgusted face and holds the very corner with her pointer finger and thumb. You couldn't tell if it was because it had been in the trash, or because of it’s contents.

You turn back to face Logan and cross your arms.

“You do realize that we’ve had a baby together and I’m not yet 30, right?”

He retracts slightly, and grumbles:

“That’s different.”

“Uh-huh” you reply sarcastically.

“The feelings are not mutual by the way.” Laura finally speaks up. Deciding to clear the air before an argument started brewing.

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan says, and you chuckle.

“That conversation is not finished by the way.” you say while you walk over to the pantry to get Laura a snack, Logan grimaces, thinking of the conversation that would come later.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you and Mama end up together?”

“Uhh, well...” he starts, glancing up at you, not sure if it was the right time to share.

Yours and Logan’s story was a bit controversial. The reason being that you were only 19 when you first “got together”, and Logan was your ex-teacher. And it wasn't exactly the most orthodox either. Instead of the typical flowers and a dinner date, it was more like neither of you could sleep one night, and one thing led to another, which led to you waking up in his arms in the morning. You had always had romantic feelings towards The Wolverine. Though they were never truly discussed, you both knew they were there, and you knew they were unbreakable. So, after that night, you two became exclusive.

“We met at Charles’ school, you know that.” you speak, setting the packet of crackers in front of the pre-teen, and walking over to grab an apple to cut up for her.

Laura sighs, knowing that she probably wouldn't get the answer she was looking for if you weren't willing to share it.

She rips open the wrapper, glaring at Logan when he steals a cracker from her.

“Well, how did you know you had a crush on each other?”

You chuckle lightly as the knife cuts into the ripe and scarlet colored fruit.

“We didn’t exactly have a crush on each other, Laura.” Logan starts, but a dry cough finishes the sentence.

You look up at him, asking if he was alright with your eyes.

He gives you a blunt nod as he lets out a deep breath.

You notice your daughters furrowed brow as she munches on the biscuit, and elaborate on Logan’s previous statement.

“Your father and I’s relationship is a bit complicated and unconventional, Laura. What he was saying was that we have and had a connection on a level so much more than a crush.”

She nods and pops another cracker in her mouth.

“But,” the crisp sound of the apple interrupts you slightly.

“usually when you have a crush on someone, you get the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever you see or think about that person. You smile when they smile, and laugh when they laugh. You want to be around them all the time, and you try to get their attention. You sometimes get nervous, and jealous of others that are close to them.”

You place the apple slices on a plate and slide it over to her, cleaning up the slight mess you had made and you glance over at her.

Laura sat starring at the plate as she thought of all of her symptoms you had just listed.

“Why were you asking?” Logan asks, his voice stern and suspicious.

She looks up, once again nervous.

You smile, getting an inkling as to where this is going.

“Well, there’s this-”

“No Laura. No boys, remember?” Logan interrupts, his custodial protectiveness resurfacing.

“It’s not a boy.” she mutters.

Logan blinks a few times, looking over to your grinning face.

“It’s a girl?” he asks, making sure that he wasn’t getting mixed up at all.

Laura looks up from the oxidizing apples a second time and nods.

“Well,” he leans back in his seat, breathing out.

“Tell me ‘bout her.”

She grins and you smile back, lovingly.

And then she doesn’t stop talking about the girl with the dark umber skin and curly caramel highlights until you have to remind her to eat her apple slices.

[hauntedflamingo]

Hold Up! What Happened?

Credit to whoever owns the picture.

Brian x fem!reader

Warning: kinda controlling boyfriend

A/N: on Imbd it doesn’t have his last name so the hashtags might be messed up. That is also going to be a problem whenever I finish my Ace one from Nancy Drew. Some of this sounds okay. The rest of it, I’m not so sure. Sorry for any mistakes.

“Ready to eat?” You boyfriend calls from across the way when he spots you waiting outside the restaurant. As he walks closer to you, he stops in his tracks, touching his back pocket to check for his wallet. “I left my wallet!”

Here we go again. “What do you do with your money?” You shout, narrowing your eyes at his ‘sudden realization’. “You never pay for anything.”

“I told you I don’t have my wallet.” He reiterates as his voice becomes louder while he starts his trek towards you again. “You should be more worried about my wallet than me not paying!”

“Yeah right.” You mutter to yourself. “I’m tired of this.” Briefly looking up at the sky, you make your decision. “I’m breaking up with you.” This had been a long time coming and you were finally at your breaking point.

“Come on. Let’s go talk about this.” He wraps his hand around your wrist, holding you close. “You are being irrational.”

“No! I’m not!” You yank your arm out of his grasp. “This is the last straw. I’m done!” You shout as you start to walk backwards. Spinning on your heel, you walk face first into a disaster.

“Oh my gosh!” You shriek as leftover food and drinks are poured onto your body. It feels like you were hit by a freight train.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” The busboy apologizes over the sound of shattering glass.

“Can this day get any worse?” You ask yourself through clenched teeth.

Out of nowhere, he grabs his towel, trying to mop up the liquid trailing down your outfit. His effort to save your dress is useless as the liquid continues to spread. Why did you decide to wear a new dress today?

“Just. Stop.” You beg, your eyes shining with tears. You were humiliated enough without any more of his help.

He drops his hand as registers your plea. When he lifts his head, he notes the panic on your face and starts to speak softly. “Look. I have some clothes in my car. You can borrow them.” You slightly nod your head, knowing that if you tried to speak you would be done for. He runs to his car while you stand still, working on controlling your breathing before you burst into tears.

The busboy returns a few minutes later, handing you a shirt, sweatpants and a pair of flip flops. “Thanks.” You whisper, holding them at arm’s length so they don’t get dirty. Another wave of embarrassment hits you as you walk inside. You can feel everyone staring as you pass them so you keep your sights on the bathroom, not wanting to see their cruel smiles.

Your shoes don’t help with the situation. They are filled with someone’s drink so they squish with every step which makes your voyage to the bathroom excruciating slow. And you are pretty sure that is part of the reason everyone else is staring at you. As you enter the bathroom, you set the clothes on the counter and grab a million paper towels. Carefully sliding your purse off your arm, you inspect it closely. “My purse is unharmed.” You mutter as you set your it on the counter next to the clothes. Looking at yourself in the mirror above the sink, you check out the damage. Miraculously, your face and hair were also missed by the barrage of debris. One less thing to worry about.

But your dress is a totally different story. Ketchup and coffee stains are splattered across your chest along with some other things you can’t make out. The rest of your dress, well, it is just as bad and everything is making it stick to your skin.

Turning around, you lean against the counter and slip off your heels. Wiping off your feet with a wet paper towel before sliding on the flip flops. You check your legs for any blood in case the broken glass hit them. “Good thing I painted my toenails last night.” You whisper, picking up your shoes and looking inside of them. How am I supposed to clean these? What if they get moldy and start to stink? I guess these are garbage now. Placing them back on the floor, you move on to the next part of your dilemma.

“Eww.” You cringe as you start to pick off particles of food from your arms and legs with a paper towel. Unbuttoning you dress, you peel it off and look down at your bra. The liquids managed to soak through your dress and into your bra. How many cups were in that bucket?

“My bra too? Great!” You sarcastically talk to yourself as you unhook it and pull it off, throwing it into the sink. You rinse it out and try to wring it out without disfiguring the whole thing. “I can’t even wear it. How am I going to do this?” You mutter to yourself. “How many people are out there?” Thoughts run through your head as you look at yourself in the mirror. I can’t wear a shirt with no bra. Please let this shirt be big enough. You already embarrassed yourself enough, why not continue. At least my underwear is dry enough to still wear.

You use wet soapy paper towels to wipe off the excess that soaked through your clothes onto your body.

Drying yourself off with another paper towel, you quickly pull on the clean shirt and catch a whiff of something. Is this what he smells like? He smells nice. Cool it, Y/N. You barely broke up with your boyfriend.

You lean down and pull on the pants before someone walks into the bathroom. Dropping your dress in the sink, you let the water run on it as you walk over to the soap dispenser. In the middle of slamming the button on the soap dispenser, the bathroom door swings open. Two women share a look before walking past you to the stalls. You think they would be nice enough to give you some sort of advice on how to clean your clothes, but nooooo.

After desperately rubbing the soap filled paper towel on your dress and getting nowhere, you let out a growl. “This isn’t working!” You twist your dress to get out the excess water before folding it up along with your bra. You grab your purse and shoes, letting out a breath before pushing open the door with your shoulder.

As you step outside the bathroom, you are greeted by none other than sabotage boy.

“Can I make it up to you?” His eagerness intrigues you. Is he genuinely being nice or is it only because he is at work? "No. Thanks-." You scan his chest, looking for a name tag. He picks up on your cue. “My name is Brian.”

Brian. You mentally repeat. Looking back up at him, his eyes catch you off guard. What color are they? You were too in shock earlier to notice them. “Um…” You clear your throat. “I was thinking about throwing the dress away. I was trying to clean it in the bathroom but I made it worse.”

“At least let me buy you lunch.” He offers, leaning against the wall. “That’s why you were coming this way, right?”

“You already let me borrow your clothes. I don’t want to put you out any more.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Maybe if I was watching where I was going.”

“Well, it sounded like you were too busy having a fight to pay attention to what you were doing.”

“How do you know that?” You wonder out loud. “Everyone heard you screaming at him.” His explanation as to why he was even listening to your conversation in the first place. “I wasn’t screaming.” You scowl. “He is selfish among other things. So, I broke up with him. He deserves it.”

“Brian!” His boss yells the man’s name to grab his attention. Brian jumps, standing up straight. “Gotta go.” He walks away, heading over to the table he was cleaning before you exited the bathroom.

The stares continue as you walk over to the line to buy your lunch. Doing your best to ignore them, you look for a table inside, keeping far away from the windows. You didn’t want to be reminded of your incident. Setting your clothes on the chair next to you and hooking your purse on the back of the chair, you sit down waiting for your food. After a few minutes, your food is delivered to your table and you can finally start eating.

Every chance he gets, Brian stops by your table to check up on you. One of the times he stops by, he lifts up an empty paper bag, laying it on the table across from you. “This is for your clothes.”

“Thanks.” Picking up your drink, you take a sip. He lingers for a moment, longer than the other twenty times when he stopped by. “You never told me your name.”

“Oh. My name?” I didn’t know we were doing this. You already planned on never returning to the restaurant no matter how much you liked the food. “It’s Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Brian.” He gives you a little wave.

“Hi.” Doing your best to hold in your giggles as you set your drink back on the table.

“That’s a relief.”

“What?”

“I made you laugh. I thought you were going be angry forever.”

Finishing your lunch in record time, you dump your clothes in the bag and grab your purse. The accident already took up enough time and you needed to get to work.

As you exit the restaurant, Brian spots you, walking over to you again.

“You cleaned up the mess?” You state the obvious.

“I have to. It’s my job.” He smiles at your observation.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He insists. “You look nice in my clothes, by the way.”

“Thanks.” You mumble, waving and walking away before he can say anything else.

Grabbing your jacket off your office chair, you slide it on and zip it up before anyone else can look at you. Sitting down at your desk, your coworker spins around in her chair to greet you. “What are you wearing?” She gasps, astonished by your choice of clothes. ”I ran into a busboy when I went to go eat and ruined my dress and shoes.” You state as turn on your computer and stare at it while you wait for it to load.

She scoots her chair over to you. “Was he cute?”

“Yeah. But I broke up with my boyfriend today so...” You spin around in your chair since she wasn’t going to let this conversation go.

“Finally. How did that go?” She changes the subject, more interested in the new boy than your previous flame. “Did you get busboy’s number?”

You point to the clothes you were wearing.

“That bad huh. Well, now you can date the busboy.” She scoots her chair back over to her desk. “How were your classes?”

“They were okay. I have some homework and studying for a quiz that I need to do later.”

Your boss happens to walks by and stops at your desk. “What happened to you, Y/N?” Did everyone have to comment on your appearance today? Your coworker answers for you without missing a beat. “A cute boy dumped food on her.” You shake your head at her comment and answer your boss. “I didn’t have time to go home and change.”

As you turn back to your computer, you mumble to yourself. “I’m going to have to return his clothes sooner or later.”

“Those are his?” Your coworker squeals as she scoots back over to you, lightly smacking you on the arm. “He gave you his clothes after he bumped into you. That is so sweet.”

“I don’t think he had a choice.” As you continue to doubt his sincerity, you log into the computer and start working.

Once you get home, you eat dinner and start on your homework. Before bed, you change out of Brian’s clothes, throwing them into the hamper and change into your pajamas. Lying in bed, your eyes snap open as you remember your conversation from earlier. Oh. No. That means I have to go back over there to return his clothes. Or maybe he won’t miss them.

Tag list: @writingformany, (@lovesanimals I didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged in this so I tagged you anyway sorry)

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 3 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,210

warnings/notes: um yeah. this one moves fast, but this whole fic is basically about this one scene, this one part. so enjoy. no serious warnings, just strong language and some gay shit. angst.

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​

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“You’re... gay?” you whispered.

“It isn’t a fucking slur, you drunk ass.” Iwaizumi spoke, shoving you with his arm (making you hit your head on the door, but you barely noticed). “And I don’t know what exactly I am, but I just know it’s not straight.”

“Matsu?” you turned to the other boy. 

“I’ve been gay, and Iwa is sexy as fuck so who am I to deny his sexual awakening?”

It almost made you laugh.

It was hot in the closet. Dark. And you were squished in between two (very tall) men. A single light hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.

“I uh,” You were so numb. You played with your sleeves. “I watched ‘Kawa make out with this girl. Stood there like an idiot and watched it happen. And it… it sucks to like know about it but to see it…to watch it happen…it’s way worse.”

“Oh,” They both said, sadness laced behind a whisper.

“You were going to tell him, weren’t you?” Matsukawa inquired.

You gasped, turning wide-eyed to Iwaizumi. He held his hands up in surrender. “You told him?” and “I didn’t tell him I swear!” coming out of both of you at once.

“I knew for, like, years now.” Matsukawa interrupted. “You’re the most obvious person ever, just so you know. You might as well be the fucking heart eye emoji whenever you look at him.” He paused to gauge your reaction, which was nothing. “Back to my question: you were going to tell him, weren’t you?”

“I..” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, I think so? I don’t know. I just know I really wanted to talk to him and see him and hear his voice. And I still do. But now my mind is full of him and the really pretty brown-haired girl exchanging spit.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe we should get out of the closet and get some air.”

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in the guest bedroom. Iwaizumi had taped a piece of paper to your forehead (“drink water” it said), and a blanket was wrapped around your upper body. You could not remember what happened after leaving the closet, how you ended up in the guest room, or why you were on the floor and not in the perfectly good bed above you.

But, nonetheless, you got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Where the fuck is Oikawa?

A loud thump interrupted your thoughts. Yup, there he was. You let out an annoyed groan as he decided to make the most noise possible on his way to the kitchen.

You pulled yourself onto the counter, wanting to slam your head against the cabinet. You never got hangovers, why was today the day you got one?

“Well don’t you look beautiful this fine morning.” Oikawa greeted, smiling.

He always looked his best in the morning, you thought. He may come across as perfect, but it makes your heart do flips when he comes in with bed head and his glasses on. Not to mention he looked absolutely gorgeous in the morning sunlight, beaming and bright.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Your eyes were still closed.

You heard movement, a cabinet open then close, and only opened your eyes when he stood in front of you (in between your legs, no less). You held your breath.

“I look amazing, and you know it.” He was so close you could feel his breath. He brushed his teeth, the smell of mint circling you. Why was he so close?

He reached forward, pressing his hand to your forehead. Still half awake and clearly extremely hungover, you leaned into his touch as he moved his hands to your cheeks. His eyes scanned your face, but your eyes never moved from his.

His hands paused and stayed on your neck, just below your jaw. Hovering.

Unconsciously, you leaned forward. Only a little bit.

And he did too.

Your lips were so close. If you wanted to, you could kiss him. Just like that. A few centimeters away, and you could do what you’ve wanted to do for years. Feel what it would be like to be one of the many girls who had their lips against his. The air was so tense, so full of something you couldn’t explain. Just a few centimeters. Was he leaning in too?

He moved back.

“Medicine for your head, and you have a little bit of a fever so there’s something for that too.” Oikawa spoke. His voice sounded deeper, but maybe you were just thinking things. A small cough from him. He put pills into your hand. “You get something to drink. I’ll start picking up trash, you’re on…”

“Cups and cans duty.” You finished. It was always the routine. “Thank you.”

“Don’t slack off too much, you fucking drunk.” He joked, smiling at you with a trash bag in his hand.

You rolled your eyes at him, throwing the nearest empty can at him. You smiled, but your heart was aching.

The first time Oikawa had ever thrown a party, it was a disaster. 

People flooded the house, though it was only supposed to be a small get-together and ended up a huge banger. The school talked about it for a while. An increase in his popularity.

The two of you were left to pick up the mess. 

“Where the fuck do we start?” you asked, staring into the abyss that was once his living room.

“I’ll pick up the garbage and you pick up the cans and bottles?” Oikawa suggested. “If my mom finds any alcoholic beverage in this house she will pelt me with my own volleyballs.”

“I’ll help too.” Oikawa’s older brother said from the doorway, trashbag in hand. “Let’s get to work. We only have until six.”

Matsukawa soon joined your routine.

For the past month or so, Iwaizumi would eat lunch with you in the library as you studied for the entrance exams. Oikawa would join sometimes, or he would come right before lunch was over. He liked to eat lunch in the cafeteria, liked to “have that break from studies”. You two didn’t mind, you got more done without him distracting anyway.

Matsukawa had become your third-party during Lunch Study Dates. You didn’t complain, and you didn’t ask the two of them what exactly their relationship was. You joked with Iwaizumi that you were simply there to hide the fact they never stopped flirting. He would just laugh.

“Wait, you almost kissed?” Iwaizumi asked, studies long forgotten.

“I think so, yeah.” You kept your eyes on your paper. “It was weird, and the air was super heavy. And he hasn’t talked to me since. Not even while we were cleaning.”

“Not even a text?” Matsukawa asked.

“Not even a wave in the hallway.”

“Now that’s weird.”

“You’re telling me.” You finally looked up. “I.. Nothing has ever happened between us like that. Ever. And it was so out of nowhere, like, you would think our first almost kiss would be some cool moment or something. But it was just us, and I was hungover as fuck, and we just spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. And all that there has been since is just that. Silence.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Matsukawa reached over to place his hand over your wrist. “You know what. Tooru is an idiot. He is. I would have kissed you.”

“You’re gay.”

“And I would’ve kissed you. That’s the highest compliment you can receive. Accept it, woman.”

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa, you knew many things about the boy that many didn’t. You knew that he always put extra syrup on his pancakes and waffles, you knew that he always preferred hot showers rather than the cold ones his mother always tells him to take for soreness, and you knew that he practiced more than anyone could imagine.

He grew up with a volleyball attached to his side. He set it whenever he could, he would serve it into your yard (and then go get it and serve it back into his). He would ask you to join, but you always just watched.

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa also made you witness his growth. And you think that’s another reason you fell in love with him.

His passion was indescribable. You couldn’t count how many times people (including yourself) have told him to relax, take a day off, remind him to eat and drink. But his heart was in it, no matter how much it distracted him from daily fleets. You admired him for that.

You didn’t have that Thing growing up. You tried a lot of different things, different hobbies and sports and classes. But you never had that thing that you had so much passion for that you had to remind yourself to breathe.

One week of silence. One week of nothing from your best friend. Not a text, a call, a smile sent your way. Not even an eye contact.

It was strange. Your entire life had revolved around being around him, your routine included smiling and walking with him in the hallway, fixing his tie in the morning.

He was already in class when you came to school. And his tie was straight.

You decided to spend most of your free time in the library, knowing that Oikawa didn’t find himself in there very often. If he was going to avoid you without an explanation, you could avoid him just as hard and for just as long. That was your logic.

Iwaizumi joined you, plopping himself down on the couch beside you. It sat in the back of the library, in the corner away from everything. You were being Sad TM.

It was so stupid, of course. To be upset or sad about something that didn’t even happen; at something that almost happened but never did. Iwaizumi reminded you that it wasn’t about the near kiss, but the silence after.

A body appeared out of thin air in front of you. You wouldn’t mistake the boy for anyone in the world.

“’Kawa.” You said, looking up. He looked way taller from your position on the couch. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said. No “nut” this time. He fidgeted with his fingers. “Can I get my jersey back? The one you wear to the games?”

Your eyes shot up.

“’M sorry?”

“Can I get my jersey back?” he asked again.

You felt Iwaizumi put his hand on your thigh. You must’ve been shaking. One week of complete silence and complete rejection and absence only to be met with the break of a tradition.

“Um, yeah.” You blinked. “Yeah. I have it at home, I can stop by later and give it to you.”

“Just bring it tomorrow. Before the game.” He spoke. But his voice didn’t sound like his. It was forced. Since when was talking to you a task?

“O.. Okay.”

A pinky promise was something taken very seriously. As kids, it was treated with the upmost respect and honor.

It was middle school, and the team announced that for a special tournament, and for school spirit, that the players would pick their best friend to wear their jersey to the games.

Oikawa immediately came to you with his “away” jersey, proudly holding it up. “Pinky promise me that you will always wear my jersey to my games!”

“Pinky promise!” you had told him.

You wore the jersey as you wrapped your pinky around his. Wearing his jersey became one of your favorite parts of going to his games.

Guess in high school, pinky promises don’t mean the same thing.

The thing about Tooru Oikawa is he never dates. This was something you knew for certain. He has never once had an official girlfriend, and he always talked about how he never planned on having one (“They’re both a distraction and a big responsibility,” he would say. “Besides, what would I need a girlfriend for when I already have a girl who does everything for me?” he would add).

Which is why you were surprised to see him hand in hand with a very familiar girl later that day. The long perfect brown hair, the long legs. After seven days of not speaking to you, he had a girl wrapped around his arm as though it was the most casual thing of him to be doing.

You stopped in front of them, trying your very best to hide your confusion.

“Oh!” he smiled, saying your name. Acting as though he hadn’t just asked you to turn in something that had meant something important to your friendship (at least it did to you). “You haven’t met Sana. My girlfriend.”

The aforementioned girl, Sana, smiled at you. Perfect teeth, of course. She gave a slight bow before reaching out her hand. Girlfriend.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve been waiting to meet Tooru’s best friend!”

You forced a smile as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you too, Sana.”

You looked over her shoulder, to Oikawa (who looked nervous, fidgety in fact), and to Iwaizumi and Matsukawa (who stood a bit further away, but just as shook and confused as you).

[reelwriter19]

A Better Man

Pairings: Erik Stevens X Black Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Implied smut, cursing

Word Count: 3241

“Sssshhh...Erik you have to stop yelling.” You pleaded with your husband as you struggled to get his oversized drunken frame through the front door.

Slurring every word, “Y/N, I DON’T CARE! These colonizers know who’s buildin’ this is!”

You shook your head and couldn’t help but smirk as Erik kicked his boots off and planted himself on the floor in the hallway like a toddler. It was LATE and you were exhausted, but you gave him a pass on this f**k boi behavior because his 35th birthday was in a few days and even though he’d never admit it, that number was messing with his head. So when the owner of the lounge called you personally to come pick him up at 1:45AM, you threw on a sweater, grabbed your keys and ran out the door.

Erik looked up from his stooper just in time to catch you undoing your bra in annoyance. “YES!!! My girls need to be free!”

“Wow…..goodnight Mr. Stevens.” Shaking your head as you walked away, he seemed to find his sea legs long enough to scurry after you, wrapping his arms around your middle and slowly creeping his hands up to ‘the girls’.

“Come on ma, let me hit. You know I sleep better after.”

His touch in this moment was making you weak, but as you turned your head to permit him a kiss, you were hit with a heavy dose of reality. Erik hadn’t drunk this heavily in a while, and the evidence of it was seeping through his pores and breath in the worst way. You turned to face him, now keeping him at arm's length.

“UGH...nigga let you hit?! I love you, but the last time we tried to have sex when you were this drunk, you fell asleep in me, during said process. Uh huh...nope, not tonight. The girls will be all yours tomorrow.”

The next morning you awoke to find Erik still fully clothed, knocked and snoring on the chaise lounge in your walk-in closet. He still smelled, but you were grateful for the fact that he wasn’t too drunk to remember how you felt about outside clothes on the bed. You kissed him on his forehead, got dressed and started making calls. You were throwing him a birthday party that night at the house. You had to confirm food drop offs with the caterers, pick up some balloons and grab one final gift to surprise him with the next day. His training made him really hard to surprise, but you knew he wouldn’t be expecting this.

You heard the shower turn off as you walked back into the house from your excursion. “Erik!” You hollered putting bags and what seemed like 100 balloons in a corner, making your way upstairs to the bedroom.  “Kia and Shuri will be here in a few hours to help me set up. I’m gonna need you out of here soo…”

Your words trailed off as your ebony Adonis emerged from the bathroom, towel low on his hips, scars glistening on his chest. He knew his power over you and now you were the one intoxicated. He raised an eyebrow as he slinked over to you ever so slowly, you, still frozen, allowing him access to begin undressing you without much of a fight.

“You were sayin’ somethin’?”

“Baby...I have so much to get done for the party.”

“I remember you saying that these right here were all...mine...today.” He started to pepper kisses across your chest and conveniently dropped his towel to the floor. Every task on your list quickly faded into the background. He was the soon to be birthday boy afterall. Who were you to deny him this gift?

-------

The house was filled with laughter and music. You sat on Erik’s lap with his arm wrapped snug around your waist as he and some of his boys laughed about stories from their days at MIT. You knew the majority of the people there, Erik always kept a tight circle. But there was one guy, Malik, from his days in foster care that he recently reconnected with that hadn’t made your acquaintance. He was mostly quiet throughout the night, sometimes too quiet, but you chalked that up to how he was raised. Knowing what your husband went through, bouncing from house to house, no one really caring if he lived or died, you always had a soft spot for the people he bonded with during those years, and Malik was one of them.

T’Challa walked over to the rowdy bunch in his usual stoic way, hiding something behind his back. Nakia stood next to him, beaming from ear to ear.

“Pardon me Y/N, gentlemen, but N’Jadaka, I have something that might interest you.” He revealed a black velvet cigar box with the word “Daka” embroidered on the top in gold. It was rare to shock this man, it was even more rare for T’Challa to pull a reaction from Erik that wasn’t sarcastic or flippant.

“Yooooo, T! You wild out man!”

Turning to you as Erik stood up, “Is that a good thing?”

Before you could reply, Shuri belted out a laugh from across the room and said, “Oh brotha! That’s a VERY good thing!”

Erik hugged T’Challa, which was enough to bring a tear to your eye, as the men clamoured for access to a cigar as they walked out on the balcony to light one and commemorate the occasion.

You and Nakia locked arms and laughed at the group as they ran outside as if hiding a porno tape from their mothers.

Turning to her, “Should I ask where you got those?”

“Let’s just say, they once belonged to a very bad man with many items that needed to be confiscated for...archiving. And now they have been gifted to a better man to celebrate his life and the passage of time.”

“Riiight. Well thank you, for everything. I really appreciate you guys. He’s been so down lately. I couldn’t have done this without your help. I’m gonna go get the cake ready while they’re out there.”

Walking towards the kitchen, you noticed Shuri trying to hide behind a few other guests that were deep in conversation in the dining room. Pausing, you didn’t even have to walk her way to know what she was up to.

“Shuri! Put that drink down right now!”

“Awww, Y/N come on! I thought we were cool. I just want a taste of this good American stuff.”

“Girl, your mother will kill me! Put it down and go find the candles for the cake.”

She stomped over to you and you grabbed her in a tight hug.

“You’re no fun, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

You walked into the kitchen dancing and singing to yourself. “Tell Me” by Groove Theory was now playing through the speakers Erik insisted you guys have installed when you first brought the place. A few of the guests trickled out of the room as Erik’s friend Malik followed you in.

“Tell me if you want me to, give you all my time. I wanna make it GOOD FOR YOUUU!!!!”

You grabbed some plates and napkins from the cabinet and turned mid groove to find Malik standing a little too close. He was taller than your husband but his facial features were no comparison. Let’s be real, not many faces could compare.

“Oh my bad. I didn’t mean to scare you...I was just lookin’ for a garbage. Y’all recycle?”

“Yep, uuh, right there by the door.”

“Cool cool.” Walking over to discard his beer bottle, he turned back around and extended a hand to you. “Malik.”

Switching the plates to your left hand, you extended yours to shake his. “I know. Erik told me about you. He said you guys were like brothers growing up.”

“Yeah, that’s my dawg.” Licking his lips and taking you in a little too intensely, he continued his thought. “We always liked to share things when we were comin’ up.”

You snatched your hand back as Shuri walked in with the candles in hand, dancing to herself.

“Y/N, you have to make me a playlist of these songs for the lab!”

“I will, I promise.”

You walked towards her, grateful to your God and Bast that Shuri’s timing was so impeccable. As you handed her the other items and took the cake from the counter, Malik touched your butt and quickly left the kitchen.

Did he just grab my ASS?!

No, no, he didn’t, he couldn’t!

That nigga just grabbed by ASS!!

You stormed out of the kitchen ready to raise hell, but as soon as you did, a smiling Erik black man jogged towards you and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You good babe?”

Hands on his chest, gazing in to his bright eyes full of happiness and peace for the first time in a while, there was no way you could ruin this night.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie I’m ok. I was just looking for the candles that’s all. You ready for your cake?”

Nestling his face in your neck as he replied, leaving a wet kiss. “As long as I can have the rest of my dessert later.”

You giggled as his facial hair grazed your skin and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. You hoped that Malik was somewhere watching, being reminded of who the hell your man was and the imminent danger his life was in if he EVER decided to touch you again.

-------

“Aight aight, enough of this terrible singing...blow out the candles man!” One of Erik’s college friends yelled, causing everyone to erupt in laughter. Erik obliged and everyone cheered. He found his way right back to you, engulfing you in his embrace from behind.

“I wanna thank y’all for coming tonight, for real. To have everyone I care about in the same room celebrating me, it’s just, yeah…...I especially wanna thank my princess, my QUEEN who pulled this off without breaking a sweat. I love you, Y/N.”

Turning to face your man, you couldn’t stop cheesing, caressing his dimpled cheeks as he pecked your lips repeatedly.

“Damn, I guess this is what happens when a nigga gets old. Got me all emotional and shit! Shuri, turn that music back up!”

-------

The house had finally cleared of most guests, finally allowing you to put your fuzzy slippers on. You were saying your final goodbyes to T’Challa, Nakia, Shuri.

“Are you sure you don’t need Shuri to help you stay and clean up?” T joked as they walked towards the door.

“Haha! No it’s ok, really. There’s not much more to do. Thank you again. You really made his night.”

“It was our pleasure, Y/N.”

“Make sure you stop by before you head back to Wakanda.”

You closed the door and the newfound silence of your apartment caused you to immediately flash back to that moment in the kitchen with Malik. You had to make sure it got dealt with, but not tonight.

You walked out on the balcony to take in the night air. The life of a hostess was not easy and fatigue was hitting you like a ton of bricks. Out of nowhere, a massive hand smacked you on the butt, scaring the crap out of you. You turned to see it was Erik and not the filth who had violated your space earlier.

“Why you so jumpy girl?”

Attempting to gather yourself quickly and avoid his gaze, you brushed past him and went back into the living room. But as always, he was hot on your heels.

“I’m not E, damn! You just...I thought you were upstairs.”

“You only call me E when you’re annoyed at something or pissed at me, so what’s up?”

“Nothing ERIK, nothing. You’re just always on your sleath shit moving around this house and I wasn’t ready. I’m just tired, baby, that’s all.” Walking towards the steps, you prayed that was enough to hold him off for a bit.

“I’m gonna go change clothes. I left the cake on the counter if you want another slice. Cuz I know you want another slice.”

Whew! Home free, at least for now. You knew your nightly routine would at least give you some time away from him to think. Of course you’d tell him, eventually, but you knew Erik’s past too well to pretend that you weren’t fearful of what he’d do. You’d never be able to erase the sound of the guy's jaw breaking because he put his hands on you at the club when you first started dating. Or the time he threatened your old boss's life and family for overworking his ‘princess’ when you started having panic attacks because of your job. You weren’t at all scared of him, but you were scared of how this news would set him back.

You emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and wearing Erik’s shirt, to find him perched on the corner of your enormous bed, cake in hand and staring at you. You playfully walked towards him planting yourself in between his legs.

“Can I have a piece?”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ll just go get my own.”

“I ate it all before I came upstairs.”

“You better be lying.”

He wasn’t budging and you could tell his patience was starting to wane.

“Fine! Since you refuse to drop this.” You hesitated, backing away from him, bracing yourself for impact, but quickly decided to go another route. You walked to the closet and grabbed a small gift wrapped box from where you kept your extra tampons. He joked with you once that he’d be willing to buy them for you, but after that, you were on your own.

“I made us reservations for tomorrow night. I was going to give this to you then, but you’re so impatient.”

You handed over the box with a huge smile on your face, the giddiness now starting to set in.

Erik looked down at the box and back towards you, rubbing your thigh slowly.

“Well, open, open!”

He chuckled, finding your sudden excitement amusing. “Oh I’m the impatient one?”

He finally opened the box and pulled out a black dog tag necklace with the word ‘Baba’ inscribed on one side and a fingerprint on the other. Erik stared at the necklace in awe. When he finally looked up, he had tears in his eyes, which always made you full on cry.

“Happy Birthday! I’m pregnant. This is your father's fingerprint. I had Nakia do some digging to…”

Before you could get another word out, Erik’s lips were attached to yours. He lifted you off your feet bridal style and placed you on the bed as if moving too fast would break you. Erik made love to you as if it were the first time. Covering every inch of your body with attention to make sure you knew how appreciative he was of the best gift he could have ever asked for.

-------

You laid on your husband's chest, tracing his scars while his fingers made lazy circles along your stomach.

“How long have you known?”

“A few weeks.”

“Damn, I must’ve really been out of it.”

You smiled because him admitting it meant he was finally back.

“E…” You sat up, gathering the sheet around yourself to face him.

“What’s up?”

“Is it hot in here? Wow, i’m sweating.” You jumped up suddenly wrapped in the sheet to go open the window. Now pacing…Erik sat up fully and gave you a minute to process whatever the hell you refused to spit out from earlier.

“Y/N, talk to me.”

“Ok, Erik, listen. Before I tell you anything, I want you to remember that you’re about to be a father. And before I needed you but now it’s your family that needs you. You hear the difference there? We’re a family. And I have a doctors appointment tomorrow afternoon so now that you know I want you to come so you can meet the doctor and get used to…”

In his usual sleath-like manor, Erik had hoped out of bed to stop you from pacing. Once you finally turned around, you were face to chest with him. He lightly grabbed your chin and raised an inquisitive brow. You took a deep breath and finally blurted it out! By the time you finished recounting the story, Erik’s jaw was locked and his body frozen. At this point, you were sitting on the edge of the bed because, exhaustion.

“....I didn’t say anything earlier because you were so happy. Baby I hadn’t heard your laugh in such a long time. I also know how close the two of you used to be. I’m so sorry.”

Hearing that brought your husband back out of his daze. He knelt in front of you making sure your eyes were locked with his.

“Y/N, listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me? You’re my whole world..” Touching your stomach, “Tonight you’ve managed to make that world even better. That nigga violated my trust and made you feel less than in your own body, in our house...f**k no.”

Erik was eerily calm. The man you knew would’ve been dressed at the part of the story with the handshake and in front of Malik’s house with you on speaker by the time you said, “...touched by ass.”

Instead, with a kiss to your forehead, he made the choice to lay back down. “It’s all good baby, let’s get some sleep.”

-------

The next day you awoke to an empty bed. You got dressed quickly and headed downstairs to find Erik in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Good morning beautiful.”

This was always one of your favorite sights. You stood behind him, wrapping him in a hug while he plated the cheese eggs and breathed him in.

“It’s your birthday Erik. I should be cooking for you.”

“Please...besides your doctor called and had to push your appointment up by an hour so eat up quick! I don’t wanna be late.”

You watched him run upstairs, still wondering who the hell this new guy was and what he did with Erik “the colonizers can kiss mine” Stevens.

He came back down, keys in hand, dog tag on next to his father's ring, sneakers and glasses on. Damn you loved when he wore those glasses. That’s probably how you got pregnant in the first place.

“You ready?”

“Yeah…” You put your plate in the dishwasher and grabbed your bag, walking towards the hallway with him.

“Baby? About our conversation last night. You’re not gonna do anything crazy are you?”

“Oh, you mean Malk?”

“Yes, Erik, that’s what I'm talking about”

“It’s already handled.”

“Erik...what did you do?! Didn’t we discuss this? FAMILY. BABY. Us NEEDING you to not get locked up or worse.”

“Relax, Y/N. I didn’t do anything personally.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief, but he wasn’t quite done. “...let’s just say no one will see him anywhere, EVER...AGAIN.”

“E! You can’t just go offing people at every whim, even if you do hire someone else to take care of it for you. That’s not what I meant.”

“Baby steps, ma. Baby steps.”

[esmealux]

The Devil Doesn’t Do Children

Part: 1 / ?

Setting: About a year after 5a

Word count: 3.3K

Rating: T

Warnings: Mention of death/murder (and, quite indirectly, foeticide)

Summary: Chloe is sick and Lucifer puts two and two together (with a little help from Dan).

Author’s note: This is my longest work so far. It was meant to be one long piece, but it ended up being 10.8K (!), so I’ve cut it into three parts. And just because I can’t help myself, there’s already a fourth on the way. Enjoy!

Usually, Lucifer wakes up bathed in golden dawn light and wrapped in the warmth of Chloe’s naked body. If it’s not her raucous snoring or the demanding screeches of her alarm that rouse him from his sleep, it is the press of her soft lips against his neck (or somewhere more south, if he’s particularly lucky, and he often is). But not today. Today he wakes up surrounded by darkness in her much too cold bed, and it’s neither her snores nor her kisses which break off his slumber. It’s the sound of Chewbacca being strangled in her bathroom. 

Or, he realises upon fully awakening, Chloe throwing up.

Alarmed and slightly annoyed that vomit of all things is interrupting his peaceful rest, he sits up in bed and stretches his taut body. Grabbing the nearest phone, he checks the time and groans when it says 05.26. Somewhere in his half-asleep mind, he recalls the Danish saying ‘Før Fanden får sko på’—now officially a synonym for 05.26, he thinks as he gets up and walks to the bathroom door barefoot.

‘Detective?’ he asks in a gruff voice, knocking quietly.

‘Don’t come in,’ she commands before heaving again.

He flinches. ‘Believe me, love, I wasn’t planning on it.’

It’s mostly said in jest, because if she asked him, he would be there by her side in a heartbeat. They’ve been through far too much together to care about the other’s less appetising sides. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he sees her ejecting her stomach contents, having once picked her up from an extraordinarily wild Tribe night. At least he won’t have to stick his fingers down her throat this time.

Eventually, there’s an intermission long enough for her to flush, put down the seat and open the door for him. He enters with reluctance, inspecting her warily as she sits on top of the toilet lid, her head in her hands. When she looks up at him, he gasps. ‘Oh, darling, you look positively terrible’—he leans a bit forward, assessing her ashen face—‘Abominable, really.’ Behind the thick mask of nausea and exhaustion, he thinks he sees her glare.

‘Fancy a toothbrush?’ he offers, already walking past her to find one by the sink. A hint of gratitude glints in her matte eyes as he hands it to her along with a glass of water. He smiles at her and leans against the door frame, eventually looking down to appreciate his pedicure as she rinses her mouth. ‘Is pwobably sumthin I ate,’ she mumbles around foam and toothbrush. He cocks his eye and looks up at her, scoffing. ‘You think?’ When he’d locked himself into her flat late last night after hosting an event at Lux, he’d been greeted by the sight of her and her spawn sleeping on the couch, remains of junk food cluttering up the coffee table before them. The logo on the Styrofoam had made him shake his head in disappointment and disgust. He’d cleaned it up and carried the ladies to their beds, but not before ripping one specific menu card off their fridge and tearing it to pieces. ‘I mean, it’s one thing you order garbage for yourself, but must you punish your offspring in the process? I may detest children, but even I think that’s no way to treat a child. Especially Beatrice. You do realise the men’s room at Lux are cleaner than that place, right?’

In response to his question, she pulls the toothbrush out of her mouth, lifts the lid of the toilet and, once again, disgorges her dinner.

‘My point exactly,’ he replies, before crouching down next to her to hold back her hair.

*

‘Lucifer! Did you make breakfast?!’ The doe-eyed creature shrieks as it appears from its nest, the brown, ungroomed mane falling messily around its head.

‘Good morning to you too, urchin,’ he greets her, looking up from the pot he’s stirring in to give her a half-forced smile as she takes a seat by the counter. He feels a strange itch in his hands to pull out the bar stool for her and help her up (mostly because he can’t be bothered with her tedious jumping), but to his surprise, she climbs the stool with ease—or at least not ungracefully. It tugs at something in his chest the same way it does when he occasionally is compelled to spend time with his nephew, and the babe’s already crawling, or walking, or making sounds that somewhat resemble actual words. For unfathomable reasons, it makes him feel uneasy—but mostly pleased; the sooner they grow up, the sooner they’ll stop being such pains in the-

‘Oh my God, is that bacon? And eggs? And pancakes?!’

He sighs and looks up to chide her for her unjust invocation, but swallows it when he sees her hungry, gleeful eyes. ‘Yes, here. Have some actual food,’ he tells her, nudging the plate and some cutlery in her direction. And some wet wipes, because longer limbs or not, she’s still a sticky child.

‘It’s chocolate chip pancakes!’ she exclaims upon inspecting her breakfast further, as if he didn’t already know. ‘Thank you, Lucifer. You’re the best.’ She’s beaming brightly at him now, and he feels threatened, foreseeing that she, any second, will launch her small body at him and enclose his middle, ruining his Armani suit with her greasy fingers. But she doesn’t. She just sits there and stares at him, her eyes twinkling with an emotion that looks uncannily related to one he has only ever seen in her mother’s eyes.

‘Eh,’ he breathes, his throat tightening. He looks away from her unsettling smiley face and returns his attention to the pot on the stove. ‘Well, it was the least I could do after your supposed caregiver fed you literal poison last night.’

Suddenly reminded of the Detective and her progeny’s shared meal, he turns his head to search the adolescent’s face for any signs of sickness. But she doesn’t look remotely nauseous as she devours her feed like a starving hyena cub. He quirks an eyebrow. ‘I’m guessing from your lupine appetite that you haven’t been praying to the porcelain gods like your mother?’

Beatrice’s brows knit together, her fork pausing mid-air. She (fortunately) swallows her food before she speaks, all joy in her voice suddenly gone, ‘Mom’s sick?’

‘Well, yes, but I’m positive it’ll pass soon. She just needs to… get it out of her system,’ he quickly reassures her, offering her a soft smile. The discomforting concern in the big, brown eyes slowly disappears as absolute delight takes over.

‘Does that mean you’re taking me to school?’ She asks, her small corpus barely able to contain her joy. ‘In your car?!’

He scoffs, feeling attacked. ‘As if I’d ever voluntarily drive your mum’s mind-numbingly boring example of an automobile.’ She grins at that, making a comment about how his is ‘definitely a trazillion times cooler,’ and he smiles at her, smug and victorious. ‘Exactly, child! So, yes, naturally, I will be escorting you in the corvette. But now, march off and get yourself ready while I finish this…’ he pokes around the grey goo in the pot with the wooden spoon, trying not to grimace, ‘oatmeal, for your mother. According to our friend Alexa it’s good for nauseated humans, although I highly doubt it.’

The teenager simply shrugs at that, finishes her breakfast and retreats to her burrow to get dressed. Once the porridge is done, Lucifer pours it in a bowl, puts it on a tray along with a cool glass of coke (also Alexandra’s suggestion) and carries it up to the Detective’s bedroom. He opens the door slowly as to not wake her, but the stubbornest of women is sitting on the edge of the bed, using all strength left in her depleted body to pull on her skinny jeans. Putting down the tray on the nearest surface, he darts over to her with a ‘what in Dad’s name are you doing?!’ and tugs the trousers down her legs and off her. ‘We have to go to work, Lucifer,’ she objects rather weakly, not even trying to put her jeans back on. ‘I have to go to work,’ he corrects her, carefully laying her down once he’s freed both her feet. ‘You, Detective, need to stay here and rest until you can keep it all inside you.’ He senses she’s about to protest again, so he places a kiss on her forehead and assures her, ‘Trust me, dear, everything is taken care of.’ Even as nausea has tinted her face green, she manages to narrow her eyes at him in scepticism. ‘Just promise me you’ll behave,’ she eventually mutters as she gives up and nuzzles into the blankets.

He lightly strokes her shoulder with the back of his fingers and quietly walks out of the room, leaving her with a dramatic sigh and an ‘As you wish.’

*

Daniel is already at the crime scene when Lucifer arrives after depositing the urchin. He’d thought he’d have to go through an entire day of purgatory—or paperwork, as the Detective pronounces it—and it was only worsened by the fact that he wouldn’t have his partner by his side. If she had been there, he could at least have distracted them both with some suggestive looks here, some subtle touches there, and—when he’d worked her into a frenzy of desire—a coffee break or two in the parking garage. Instead, he’d have to endure the agonising tedium on his own, even as there were, at a minimum, three hell loops he’d rather spend his time in than do paperwork at the precinct all day. But then Miss Lopez had called and informed him they’d got a new case. He’d been absolutely delighted (as delighted as it is allowed when someone has dropped dead), but only until he’d made the mistake of telling her that the Detective was home sick, and she’d said that she would ‘call Espinoza ASAP’ and tell him to meet them at the scene. If he had just kept his mouth shut, he could have got the case all to himself, instead of having Detective Douche tag along.

Taking a deep breath, he checks his cuffs and takes his time approaching the douche in question. ‘Sorry I’m late. Your spawn spent quite some time choosing the right attire,’ Lucifer offers in greeting. Daniel looks him up and down with raised eyebrows, his eyes landing on the perfectly folded crimson pocket square. ‘For a normal school day? Wonder who inspired that kind of vanity in her.’

‘Well, it certainly wasn’t her father,’ Lucifer deadpans and nods towards Daniel’s hoodie/jacket/jeans-combination.

With a humourless laugh and a shake of his head, Dan stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns on his heels to walk up the stairs and into the residential building. After bringing out his flask and taking a long swig, Lucifer follows him.

When they enter the flat, Miss Lopez is leaning over the body with her camera. The sight is oddly welcoming. Comfortably familiar. She’d only come back a week ago after being away for a little over a month, on a much-deserved vacation in New Zealand, and Lucifer had missed her cheerful spirit and their crime scene banter terribly. The latter is, much to Lucifer’s annoyance, cut short today by Daniel ‘Buzz-Kill’ Espinoza’s ‘So, Ella, what can you tell us about the vic?’

It’s a rather uninteresting case; a woman, Laura Greene, 26, has been murdered in her home. Stabbed with a kitchen knife, first in the abdomen, then the chest. No signs of B&E, no signs of struggle. A swift and impulsive act—no doubt a crime of passion according to Ella. The most obvious culprit would be an angered partner, but the roommate, who found the body, tells them the victim wasn’t in a relationship and rarely went on dates or brought anyone home. On top of that, Roomie can’t think of anyone who would hurt dear Laura. And the neighbours are just as useless; one is a deaf elder lady, and the others were chasing the dragon at the time of death. The rest of the floor haven’t heard or noticed anything either. Consequently, they have absolutely nothing once they get to the precinct. Ella goes through evidence and Daniel through piles and piles of papers, leaving Lucifer to stand awkwardly in the corner of Ella’s lab, with no desires to unveil or miscreants to threaten.

As to not die of boredom, he zooms out and lets his mind wander. He’s in the middle of designing a strategy for how to make Chloe finally agree to try the deliciously sinful position he considers one of his favourites when Ella’s frustrated sigh interrupts his planning.

‘Something troubling you, Miss Lopez?’ he asks her, pulling out his flask.

She tells him she has nothing. No match on the fingerprints from the murder weapon, no useful surveillance tapes, no clues at the scene that can tell her the gender, age, or occupation of the murderer. Nada. Just the fact that it was done in a moment of heat.

Before Lucifer can answer, Dan walks in with a puzzled look on his ill-favoured face, his arms filled with highlighted printouts. ‘Could she’ve been pregnant?’

Ella tilts her head. ‘I mean, it’s not impossible, but based on what her roommate told us, I wouldn’t bet my money on it. You know, because our girl Laura had no boy toyz.’

Lucifer can’t hold back a snort. ‘Please, Miss Lopez, all it takes is a boy toy, singular, ten minutes in a bathroom stall and the absence of contraceptives.’

Dan looks at him with disgust and horror before shaking his head and returning his attention to Ella. ‘Well, no,’ he answers her, ignoring Lucifer’s comment entirely, ‘but then I thought about the other thing her roommate said, about Laura throwing up during the past weeks, and I thought-’

‘But Michelle said she thought it was an eating disorder, like Laura’d had before,’ Ella interrupts him, looking to Lucifer for support. He just purses his lips and looks back. Truth be told, when they’d been talking to the roommate, the mentioning of vomit had reminded him of his feeble Detective at home and he’d excused himself to send her a text. He therefore hadn’t heard whatever explanation the woman had offered (nor her arguments for why the victim’s sickness would be relevant to them). Fortunately, Dan answers.

‘Yeah, I know, I thought that too, but then I saw she paid a bill to an OB-GYN earlier this month, and it could just be a gynaecological check-up or something, but then I remembered how badly Chloe suffered from morning sickness when she was pregnant with Trixie, so I…’

Lucifer stops listening as Daniel’s words—one in particular—suddenly whirl around him, loud and ominous. His heart starts pounding faster and his throat goes dry. He instinctively grips the edge of the lab table.

‘Surely there could be other explanations,’ he manages to get out, interrupting his co-workers’ discussion. ‘Food poisoning, for instance.’

Dan and Ella look at him with equally sceptical looks. ‘Not for ten days straight,’ Ella argues.

‘But there is a myriad of reasons for a woman to throw up,’ he defends as he starts frantically googling. ‘Indigestion, stomach bug, chemotherapy, motion sickness… aha, migraine!’

When Lucifer looks up from his phone, Daniel is looking at him like he’s questioning his sanity. Miss Lopez seems concerned too, but more in an ‘dude, you okay?’-way than anything else.

Ella slowly takes her eyes off Lucifer’s face and eyes Dan shortly. ‘Well, we can’t know for sure before we get the final results from the autopsy, but from what Dan has found, she could quite possibly be pregnant.’

‘But,’ Lucifer objects, barely audibly, like someone has knocked the wind out of him, ‘she can’t be.’ He’s staring out into empty air, unwelcome images suddenly flooding his mind, as Daniel and Miss Lopez continue talking. He’s on the verge of what he thinks might be a panic attack when a voice, her voice, drags him out of his own head.

‘Hey guys,’ she greets them. She’s hoarse and looks a little tired, but the green tinge is gone.

‘Detective,’ is what he manages to say back. She looks at him with soft eyes and it’s enough for him to come back to his senses for a moment. Surprised by her presence, he begins to ask, ‘Are you done-’

He was going to say ‘puking your guts out’ but she widens her eyes at him and cuts him off, ‘Having a bad headache? Yes, thank you, Lucifer. I just needed some rest.’

‘Right,’ he mumbles, giving her one slow nod. She walks over to stand close beside him and brushes her fingers against the back of his hand, somehow sensing that he’s tense. 

‘Okay, what have we got?’ She looks to Dan and Ella and lets go of Lucifer’s hand. He instantly misses her touch.

They fill Chloe in, telling her about everything from the lack of leads to small, seemingly insignificant details. When she’s completely up to date, she has that look on her face, eyes slightly narrowed, like she has a (historically, clever) theory.

‘Well,’ she begins, still visibly thinking, ‘it does take two to tango.’ She side-eyes Lucifer, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. It’s clear she expects a remark or a praising grin in return, and he tries, but it comes out as a grimace and a strained ‘eh’. She gives him a funny look before continuing her theory, ‘What I mean is, boyfriend or not, there’s still a father out there. Maybe he found out and couldn’t handle the news? Maybe he was married to someone else? Or… he just didn’t want to be a dad?’

Lucifer feels his heartbeat speed up once again. An odd emotion he can’t quite name spreads in his chest. It feels like a disease.

‘Sure seems like motive, but how are we gonna find him?’ Dan asks. Not one second later, Miss Lopez’ ‘found him!’ sounds from where she’s leaning over her computer. ‘Tech just got access to her photos —kinda tricky since she had this super secure lock-’

‘Who is he, Ella?’ Chloe demands.

Ella clicks on the screen and turns the computer around so they can see. ‘The guy’s everywhere in her camera roll. I don’t know, he seems kinda familiar, but-’

‘That’s Max Steinfeld!’ Dan exclaims when he sees the photo. It’s taken in bed, post-orgasm Lucifer would say, judging from the blissful aura. Laura’s got a hand on the man’s chest who, indeed, is the chap who starred on that horrible teenage comedy show and today is trying to redeem himself by doing mediocre action movies and… settling down with Hollywood’s sweetheart. 

‘But he’s dating Simone Riley,’ Lucifer enlightens his colleagues upon his revelation. ‘They’re tying the knot this spring.’

Chloe shoots him a questioning look, and he tells her he got a mani-pedi the other day. She nods her head in understanding.

‘Well, if he’s engaged, he probably wasn’t ecstatic when Laura told him she was pregnant with his baby.’

As she asks Dan to get the actor’s current location all Lucifer can do is stand there and stare at her, as if he might find the answers to the thousands of questions in his head written on the side of her face. But he doesn’t. He only finds the familiar beauty mark, a perfectly pointed eyebrow, and the smooth, marble-like skin of the woman he loves. And it makes him yearn for those answers even more.

Part II  |  Part III  | Part IV (coming soon)

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF 

- or read below the cut - 

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates. 

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4 

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore. 

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.  

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.  

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.  

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.

[jmeelee]

Except at Waffle House

A Sterek AU inspired by that ridiculous Reddit post about the girl who’s BF keeps fighting the cook at Waffle House.

As far as boyfriend’s went, Braeden hit the jackpot when she met Derek Hale. She hadn’t been looking for a partner when she’d stepped into the first class of her Master’s program, but there he’d been, sitting dead-center of the third row in the cavernous lecture hall.  Derek was… different.  Intelligent, well-read, handsome, driven; he’d weathered tragedy and trauma with elegance, emerging on the other side with a soft-spoken grace.  He made Braeden laugh with a wit so dry it kindled a fire in her belly.  To other women, Derek’s obscene good looks—chiseled jawline, soft hair the color of midnight, ass you could bounce quarters off of—might have been his biggest draw, but for Braeden, it was Derek’s hard-won composure.  When she decided to drop out of the Federal Marshall program and pursue her own independent career, Derek never batted an eye.  When she came home from dangerous missions sporting cuts, scrapes and bruises, he didn’t rage over her playing fast and loose with her own welfare.  He simply said, “I’m glad you’re home safe.”  Derek never yelled, never lost his temper, never fought.  He was a dream come true.

Except at Waffle House.

Truth be told, Braeden didn’t love Waffle House, but food was food and a girl’s gotta eat. Derek, however, had some deep-seated appreciation of the greasy chain that stretched back into his childhood, before his parents and older sister died. So while she preferred to eat elsewhere, Braeden found herself at Waffle House a few times a week, feeding Derek’s desire to reconnect with fond adolescent memories.

“Service might be a bit slower today,” said their usual waitress, who’s bright yellow name tag read Erica.  She plopped an iced-tea in front of Braeden, and a steaming cup of black coffee before Derek.  Erica snapped her bubblegum, pulled a tiny notepad from the pocket of her black apron, and snatched a stubby pencil out of her perky blonde ponytail.  “Boyd’s training a new cook.  What’re y’all having?”

Sure enough Boyd, the owner of the franchise, stood at the grill, patiently pointing at burners and griddles while the long-fingered hands of the tall, thin guy next to him flew around like drunk hummingbirds.  Braeden figured the new cook was replacing Scott, who had quit the line to attend Veterinary school.  When you spent several days a week eating there, the Waffle House family became your family.

Braeden was known to make her way through the various menu items.  Some people had their tried and true staples, but she preferred to throw tradition to the wind. One day it was pecan waffles, the next, chili smothered hash browns.  Today, a cheese steak omelet.  Derek however was a creature of habit.  “I’ll have the--”

“Steak and eggs,” Erica interrupted, graphite scratching over the paper.  “Steak medium-rare and egg yolks slightly runny.  Whole wheat toast, well done.”

“You got it,” Derek said agreeably, handing over his flimsy laminated menu.  “Thanks, Erica.”

They filled the void between placing their order and receiving their food with anecdotes from work and a fast and furious game of hangman on the back of their paper placemats.  Waffle House may be lacking in sophistication, but it’s service was always speedy.        

“Here ya go.” Erica plunked plates in front of them and topped off Derek’s coffee.  “Let me know if you need anything else.” But the call bell rang in the kitchen and she bustled away, already half-way down the aisle.

Three forkfuls of cheesy goodness passed her lips before Braeden realized Derek was poking at yellow lumps on his platter with a stiff triangle of toast, watching the yolks crumble like a house of sand.  She finished chewing, swallowed.  “Derek?  Is something wrong?”

“It’s my eggs,” he lamented.  “They’re super hard.  Not runny at all.”

Had she known the repercussions of her next words, Braeden might have given them more thought.  But unbeknownst to her, she was about to score red on the Waffle House Index of how prepared she was to weather the coming shit storm.   

“Just call Erica back,” Braeden suggested, waving her fork in the air.  “The kitchen can whip up another batch. No big deal.”  

Famous last words.  

Erica flounced over, ponytail swinging behind her.  “Sorry about that, honey,” she chirped.  “The new cook is still finding his groove.  I’ll be right back with the correct order.”

Derek thanked her again but watched with hazel eagle eyes as she brought the plate back to the open kitchen, speaking to the mole-speckled guy at the grill whose bed head hair was barely contained under his dorky paper hat.  Derek squirmed in his seat.

Braeden’s eyebrows furrowed.  “That’s a really complex call-in system these employees need to learn.  And all that crazy code with the jelly and mayo packets?  They’re bound to make mistakes sometimes.”

Derek grunted, watching Erica return with a heaping plate of eggs.  This time they were scrambled.  “These are scrambled,” he said stupidly, blinking at the fluffy little clouds.

Looking down, Erica seemed to see them for the first time.  She rolled her eyes and groaned.  “Ugh.  Stiles.”

“Yeah, it’s a style of eggs, just not the one I ordered.”

“No,” Erica shook her head.  “S-T-I-L-E-S.  Stiles is our new cook.  I promise I’ll be back with the correct eggs in a few.”

But ten minutes later a plate of thinly sliced hard-boiled eggs laid out in a flower pattern was placed in front of Derek.  Braeden couldn’t help it, she threw back her head and laughed.  “At this point, I think the cook’s fucking with you,” she told him.

But Derek wasn’t in on the joke.  He pushed the plate away and threw money down on the table.  “Hopefully both his cooking and his comedy routine improves,” Derek grumbled, pulling on his leather jacket.

Maybe now they could finally eat at some different restaurants.

----------

Three days later, they were back at Waffle House.

“There are over 1,500 other Waffle Houses in America,” Braeden said for the millionth time, waving her map app in Derek’s face.  “Look, there’s one twelve miles away.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Derek scowled, sending his second plate of eggs back to the kitchen.  First, they were poached, then they were part of a bacon egg and cheese sandwich.

The third time a single slice of toast sat on a wide white plate, a perfect circle cut from the center.  Inside the circle was an egg.  Cooked over-hard.  

Braeden took a fortifying breath of humid maple-scented air.

“Okay I’ve had enough,” Derek yelled, standing up from the booth.  “You,” he pointed at Stiles the cook, who stared back with a wide insolent mouth and tricky amber eyes.  “Take this garbage back and cook my eggs the right way.” 

Stiles slowly pulled a dirty apron over his neck, dislodging his ridiculous hat, and sauntered around the counter on long legs to stand in front of Derek, crowding into his personal space.  Toe to toe, there was barely any difference in height between the two men, though their body types varied greatly.  Derek was built like a brick shithouse, Stiles like a twink.  

“Is there a problem, dude?” Stiles asked coolly, with the poker face of an Easter Island head. The only crack in his stone facade was the tiny quirk at the edge of his pert lips.    

“Yeah,” Derek growled, pushing a finger into Stiles’ thin chest, “my problem is you and your shitty egg cooking skills.”

“Shitty?” The quirk blossomed into a fully grown smirk.  “I’ve made you several plates of superb eggs, dude.  It’s not my fault you won’t even try them.”

“Quit calling me dude.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Stiles winked and stared Derek down like a cowboy in a duel with nothing left to live for.  Where had Boyd found this sadist cook?

“My name is Derek. Not buddy. Not dude.  Derek.” The words leaked out between Derek’s clenched teeth. Braeden could slice American cheese off his jaw right now.

Stiles smiled like he’d won the lottery, angling his body slightly away from Derek, but never breaking eye contact.  “Hey Waffle House, Derek here thinks my eggs suck.  Do all of you fine, upstanding people think my eggs are good?”  Stiles got several thumbs-up, two enthusiastic whistles, and one wrinkled middle finger from a white-haired man hunched over at the service counter.  Stiles gave the guy a thumbs up. “Thanks for your honesty mister.  It’s much appreciated.”

“What the hell was that?  What are you trying to do?” Derek was snarling, and the look between both men was lethal. Eyes sparked.  Lips wetted.  Fingers twitched. Braeden held her breath, sure fists would start flying at any second.  Derek made muted sounds of rage worthy of an aspiring ventriloquist. They were too close, puffed out chests a hair's-breadth apart. 

Stiles shrugged.  “My Waffle House, my rules.  Rule number one, pull that stick out of your ass, Derek.”

Derek took Stiles by the surprisingly broad shoulders and backed him into the coat rack.  “Next time I’m here, you’re gonna make me my food the way I order it.”

As quick as it started, the altercation was over.  Derek backed out of the overcoats, and Stiles came stumbling after like two teenagers emerging from a closet after seven minutes in heaven.  Derek made a beeline for the exit.

“Oh yeah?” Stiles yelled at Derek’s retreating back.  “I'll show you sunny side up!”

The whole thing was made even more ridiculous by the merrily tinkling overhead bell as Derek slammed outside.

_______

“Feeling up for trying Schwarma tonight?” Braeden asked when they pulled into the lot and parked next to Stiles’ run down blue Jeep.

“Not a chance,” Derek replied, practically backflipping out of the Camaro.

----------

“Derek, NO!” she said.

DEREK, YES he heard, and Derek, her Derek, the pinnacle of poise, yeeted himself over the counter, grabbing the yellow crossover uniform tie around Stiles’ neck.

----------

“At least Stiles didn’t spike Derek’s drink with meth,” Erica shrugged.  Today the two men were rolling around on the greasy tile floor.  

“Are you being ironic?” Braeden asked, taken aback by the seriousness of Erica’s tone.

“Waffle House is an irony-free zone,” Boyd informed her with a straight face. “I’m just thankful there’s no AR-15s or nudity today.”

“Yet,” Erica leered.

What the hell happened at Waffle House?!

----------

“I’ll have an Angus patty melt, and a slice of Aunt Maggie’s Triple Chocolate pie, please,” Braeden ordered as chaos descended around her.  “It’s like when I have food in front of me, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.”

“That’s the magic of Waffle House,” Erica said sagely.

“It’s something,” Braeden replied. 

----------

She was scattered, smothered, covered in food debris, collateral damage from Stiles and Derek’s ongoing war.

“Don’t worry, Hunny,” a friendly woman in the adjacent booth told her.  “Throw a tide pod in with that shirt and the stains will come right out!  Just don’t eat it like those crazy kids are doing these days.”

“Who in their right mind would eat a tide pod?” Braeden asked.

  The answer was a serious side-eye.  “Who in their right mind would keep returning to a restaurant to tussle with the cook?”

Touche.

----------

Waffle House had a special Valentine’s Day candlelight dinner, which Braeden could have happily gone her whole life not knowing about or participating in.  

Erica sat them right next to the fancy new digital touchscreen jukebox.  Stiles came out, fed the machine twenty dollars, and set it to play “I Touch Myself” by Divinyls two-hundred and forty times on repeat.

Braeden wasn’t sure if Derek touched himself that night, but any guy who took her on a Valentine date to Waffle House and proceeded to fist-fight the cook certainly wasn’t going to be touching her.

__________

Braeden parked down the road and walked to Waffle House, unsurprised to find Derek’s car in the parking lot.  She’d quit going with him two weeks ago. To so many hungry, lost, and seriously hammered people, Waffle House’s warm yellow glow was a beacon of salvation.  For Braeden, who watched from the peaceful vantage point of the parking lot as her boyfriend grappled the skinny cook into a headlock and proceeded to give him a vicious noogie, it would forever be a reminder that Derek was the perfect guy for her, except when it came to Stiles.  Once upon a time, Braeden appreciated the fact that women everywhere were always looking at her man. He turned heads, but none of them ever seemed to turn his.  Except at Waffle House, and it wasn’t a woman.

Derek walked out of the restaurant twenty minutes later to find her sitting on the hood of his black Camaro.  “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” he asked, monotone. She wondered at Drek’s equanimity, which has always seemed so inviting to her before.  Maybe Braeden just didn’t inspire passion in Derek, the way Stiles obviously did.  

She nodded.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

She shook her head.  “Not unless you can tell me what this is really about. Not unless you can tell me who you are.  Because this person isn’t the Derek I thought I knew.”

Lately, she’d been thinking a lot about a proverb her mother used to recite when she was younger.  Briseann an dúchais trí shúile an chait. The true nature of someone’s character is revealed through their eyes.  Derek’s head swiveled between Braeden and the view through the glass window, where Erica was helping Stiles off the floor, and Boyd was mopping up spilled chocolate milk, and several patrons were still surreptitiously filming the whole ordeal on their cellphones. Derek’s eyes followed Stiles like a wolf stalking prey.  “Shit, I—”

“Derek,” she said, sliding down the hood and coming to stand before him, “you were an amazing boyfriend and a great guy.”  Braeden sighed. “Except at Waffle House.” 

Derek shoved his fists into the front pockets of his too-tight jeans, scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the brick facade of the restaurant.  “Yeah,” he relented.  “I’m really sorry.”

“Me too, Derek.”  She gently patted his stubbled cheek.  “Good luck with-” she gestured toward the golden fluorescent lights, the black and yellow signage, at Stiles standing stock still and Bambi-eyed behind the counter, holding a chunk of frozen bacon to the top of his head- “whatever the hell this is.  I’ll see you around.”

She waved good-bye to Stiles through the window, who raised a hesitant hand back to her, and walked out of the parking lot.

Roughly a year and a half later, Braeden thumbed through a used newspaper while she waited at her local coffee shop for the barista to call her name.  She flipped from business to sports, passing the society section on her way, when a pithy headline caught her attention.  

Waffle Brawls lead to Wedding Bells.

Huh.  So that’s what all the fighting was really about.

Underneath the catchy title was a byline: “Groom learned sixteen new ways to cook eggs during fearsome flirtation.”

“Caramel Macchiato for Braeden!” 

Braeden tossed the paper onto the tabletop, leaving it open to Stiles and Derek’s wedding announcement, and left the coffee shop with a laugh on her lips.  

You couldn’t make this shit up.  Except at Waffle House.

__________

As per usual tumblr won’t let me link to anything so the Reddit post that inspired this story so you can find that in the notes!  Thanks for reading hope it made you laugh.

[hale-13]

Trapezius

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 27 Prompt 27 - Injured

Peter gazed out over the harbor forlornly, twisting his mask into knots in his lap. Normally he would really enjoy the view – the sun was setting in a clear sky turning the normally disgusting water a soft orange and painting the area with a soft warmth. The peaceful view was marred by the emergency vehicles, Coastguard boats and police and news helicopters which made Peter’s gut clench with anxiety. He just… he tried so hard.

Words: 2123, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Injury, Poor Emotional intelligence

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter gazed out over the harbor forlornly, twisting his mask into knots in his lap. Normally he would really enjoy the view – the sun was setting in a clear sky turning the normally disgusting water a soft orange and painting the area with a soft warmth. The peaceful view was marred by the emergency vehicles, Coastguard boats and police and news helicopters which made Peter’s gut clench with anxiety. He just… he tried so hard.

The sound of repulsers approaching made Peter tense and he mentally put his walls back up. He couldn’t afford to let Mr. Stark see him as a kid right now. They were colleges when he was Spider-Man, peers. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it puff out through his clenched teeth.

“Previously on Peter screws the pooch I tell you to stay away from this instead you hack a multi-million dollar suit so you can sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do,” Mr. Stark’s sarcastic voice said and Peter held back a flinch, keeping his expression blank as he cautiously looked back over his shoulder. His back was killing him and felt hot and swollen from his Hercules hold of the ferry earlier – he had definitely felt something tear – but he couldn’t afford the weakness right now.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked instead, keeping his voice monotone and trying not to tense his back.

“No thanks to you,” the Iron Man voice made Mr. Stark’s snide tone sound slightly metallic but, more than that, it made his blood boil and he whipped around to face the man.

“No thanks to me?” He took no precautions as he lifted his lefts over they side of the concrete tower and jumped down on the other side making his shoulders throb. “Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about it and you didn’t listen. None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me!” His voice broke and he could feel blood rushing to his face but he did his best to push down the embarrassment. “If you even cared you’d actually be here.” He threw in boldly.

It took him by surprise, therefore, when the armor opened in from of him and Tony Stark stepped out, a grim look of disappointment on his face that made Peter stumble back a could steps, unable to hide his wince of pain but playing it off as shock instead. “I did listen kid. Who do you think called the FBI huh?”

Peter dropped his gaze, unable to make further eye contact, only interrupting to correct his age and flinching again at Mr. Stark’s yelling. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, but he could tell the platitudes were only making his idol angrier so he said instead, with the most sincerity he could push into his tone “I just… I just wanted to be like you.”

“And I wanted you to be better,” Mr. Stark said back in a weary voice before asking for the suit back. Peter heart sank further but he got it. Mr. Stark was right – he didn’t deserve to be Spider-Man if all he did was hurt other people.

The car ride back to his apartment in Queens was silent and awkward, broken only by Mr. Stark and Happy leaving the car and throwing his a pair of hideous Hello Kitty pajama pants and an oversized New York tourist shirt. It took more effort than he would care to admit to slip the suit off of his painful muscles and lift his arms up high enough to pull the shirt on but he managed it.

Happy slipped back into the driver’s seat a moment later and raised the partition but Mr. Stark didn’t return as they pulled away from the curb and Peter’s heart sank further when he realized the man had probably taken the armor back to the Tower because he couldn’t bear to be in the car with Peter another minute. His eyes were burning but he refused to cry here – he’d already proven to be a problem and he wasn’t going to cry about his well deserved punishment.

The car stopped in front of his apartment and the locks on the doors popped but Happy didn’t roll down to partition to talk to him or offer any direction so, without a backward glance as his poorly folded suit, Peter slunk out of the car and upstairs.

May was not happy with him for skipping school and not answering his phone and, with the pain of his torn muscles ratcheting up and the emotional trauma of the day weighing down on him he collapsed onto the couch and tearfully confessed to his aunt that he had lost his internship, wanting to bring his arms up to return her tender hug but physically unable to do so. His only relief was that she directed him to take a shower pretty immediately because he smelled like garbage,.

And, yeah, he probably did.

The piss poor water pressure of their dingy shower was actually a blessing today but Peter could still barely stand with his back facing the hottest water possible hoping that the heat would relieve some of his pain but he was still just as painful when he forwent his sleep shirt a few minutes later.

He healed fast. This was fine – it would all be resolved in a few days.

———————————————

“Fuck,” Peter muttered, keeping his right arm tucked close to his stomach as he wrestled with the leukotape he had bought at the pharmacy. It kept sticking to itself and the wall and his hair and basically everywhere but where he was trying to stick it and Peter groaned, balling the piece up and throwing it away.

It had been a few months since dealing with the Vulture. A few months since turning down Mr. Stark’s offer to be an Avenger but accepting his offer to become his personal intern and Peter couldn’t be happier.

Well. Except for his shoulder that is.

His left arm had healed fully after straining his muscles holding the ferry together but his right had just gotten worse and worse and it was interfering with his ability to not only be Spider-Man but also to just perform everyday tasks. He hadn’t been able to lift much with that side or even put on a shirt normally in weeks and it was starting to grate on his nerves. After spending hours watching videos on YouTube Peter decided to try some strengthening exercises and taping.

Neither was working very well.

“Fuck,” he said again, with feeling, as he bent forward at the waist to rest his head on the cool counter top of his bathroom. He was supposed to get picked up by Happy in a few minutes to go and spend the weekend at the Tower with Tony to work on his suit and there was no way he could hide this anymore. He couldn’t even lift his arm up to chest level. His phone vibrated on the counter top and he moaned, answering it without looking at the caller ID. “Hey Happy.”

“Nope, guess again,” his mentor’s voice said and Peter jerked up, letting out a strangled grunt as he jostled his shoulder. “You okay kid?”

“Why are you calling me?” Peter said instead, deflecting.

“I’m picking you up,” Tony said. “Now are you okay?”

Peter waffled for a minute but one look at his duffle bag made him ache and he let out a sigh. “Not… really I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” His mentor’s voice was sharp and he could hear the sound of his seatbelt smacking the window of his car and the door opening and closing as Tony got out of the car.

“It’s not a big deal,” Peter said, going to the front door and unlocking and opening it just as Tony left the elevator, they made eye contact and hung up their phones.

“Well you look to be in one piece and there’s no blood everywhere,” Tony said as he joined Peter in the living room of his apartment and looked him over. “So what’s going on kiddo?”

Peter nibbled on his bottom lip and gripped his right hand into his shirt tightly for just a second before releasing it. “Remember the ferry?”

Mr. Stark was silent and attentive as he listened to Peter ramble and sighed deeply at the end of his story, reaching one hand up to massage his eyes. “You really don’t half-ass anything do you?”

“Do you actually want me to answer that?” Peter asked confused and his mentor rolled his eyes, grabbing Peter’s bag from where it was resting in the hallway.

“Come on then, you have a date with Dr. Cho and the MedBay.” Peter whined but didn’t overly protest when he was directed out of the apartment and down to where Mr. Stark had illegally parked in the fire lane in front of his building.

It was just some muscle straining right? A week or two of meds and resting it and everything would be okay.

“Well its not a strain,” Dr. Cho told him just over an hour later looking at the images of his radiographs and MRI on a holotable. “You’ve torn your rotator cuff and continually re-injured it to the point that its basically just a mass of scar tissue.”

“Oh…” Peter said, a little dazed from the small dose of painkillers he had been given so that they would be able to manipulate his arm for the images. “What does that mean?”

Helen gave him the same disapproving look she had been giving him since she had taken his history and had learned that he had been putting massive amounts of pressure and g-force on an injury that he had never allowed to fully heal. “It means Peter,” she said firmly shutting down the table, “that you’ll need surgery to repair the tear and clean out all the scar tissue. And you’ll need to give it time to heal and go to physical therapy if you plan to ever use your arm to its fullest extent ever again.”

Peter’s mind went a little blank at that. “Surgery?” He asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “But Spider-Man–,”

“Will be taking a break,” Tony told him. “Your health always comes first Peter.” He turned his attention back to Dr. Cho. “Can you tell his aunt all of this later? Also when can we do the surgery.”

“I’ve already got him scheduled for tomorrow morning with a specialist I’m bringing in from NYU,” she said. “And of course! Just let me know when she gets here.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Peter groused from his spot on the exam bed but both adults ignored him and he rolled his eyes. “What if I don’t want surgery?”

“Then you’ll be dealing with chronic pain, pion and needles, weakness and continuous tearing for the rest of your life and you’ll need a shoulder replacement in less than fifteen years at the rate your going,” Dr. Cho said, typing notes into his chart. “So I’ll see you in the morning for the surgery.”

Peter glared at her but, at the twinge in his arm when he adjusted in his seat, he grumbled “fine”.

“It won’t be that bad Underoos,” Tony said later as they sat on the ridiculously large couch in the penthouse living room watching Brooklyn 99 while May spoke with Peter’s medical team. “You get to skip school for the next week while you recover and I bribed Bob Igor to give me the next season of the Mandolorian early for us to binge.”

“But…” Peter gnawed at his lip, hating the taste of blood that filled his mouth as he broke open the tender skin again. “What if this doesn’t fix it?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Tony said with a smile. “Cho is the forefront in development in regeneration. If anyone can fix you it’ll be her. And May and I will be there the whole time. You have nothing to worry about okay?”

“You’ll be there?” Peter said, fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt and refusing to look up at his mentor.

“Of course I’ll be there!” Tony said warmly with a squeeze to his good shoulder. “You’re my favorite intern.” He teased.

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said sincerely, reading the unsaid bit and relaxing a little back in the couch. Between his pain meds and his full stomach he could feel his eyelids drooping and he decided to relax more fully into Tony’s side – there was no where he felt safer.

[crackheadgeminibby]

trust pt. 2

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: language, age gap, angst

word count: 1.1k

part 1

part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

The first thing you see at the start of the email is a grainy, almost unrecognizable picture of Chris kissing another woman. Not a lot of people knew that Chris and you were an item but that didn’t mean that no one would try to break you two up for whatever reason. Zooming in to Chris’ neck, you look for the golden chain you’d gotten him for his birthday as an effort to dismiss to picture as being old. Your breath catches in your throat when you see the glint of the chain under the woman’s hand that was sprawled across his chest. Your vision loses focus and your breath becomes shallow as you understand what is happening.

You scroll down as you see that there is a text accompanying the picture.

So, how does it feel to know your precious boyfriend cheated on you? Don’t worry, this isn’t really about you. Well, it kinda is. Chris and I were finally doing perfectly fine before you met him. Then, he left me for you. Now that all my research results have come back, I can already tell you every single reason why you’re wrong for him. Number 1, you’re way too young; you can never understand him like I always have. Number 2, who the fuck even ARE you? Some random chick that nobody knows or cares about? Yeah, not happening. And finally, have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? Because that face, that body, that pretty much everything: it’s a big no. I mean, you must have asked yourself at some point why he’d never taken you to meet his family, right? Because the answer is right here. But back to the important things, break up with him and leave us in peace or I’ll send some pretty nasty, creative stuff about you to TMZ and such.

Kisses

You hadn’t even realized that you had started crying until you felt Chloe’s hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N? Hey… What’s going on? Talk to me”, she softly says once you look up at her.

“He…”, you let out a sob and exhale shakily before you try again. “He’s cheating on me… With his ex.”

“Oh honey”, Chloe takes you into her warm arms and shushes you as you continue to cry into her arms.

You suddenly feel unwell and you immediately know you’re about to vomit. You push Chloe away and reach for the garbage can under your desk, where you empty the contents of your stomach.

“Oh my God, Y/N, what’s wrong?”, you distantly hear your boss’ voice say.

You’re about to answer but another wave of nausea hits you and your head is back in the garbage can.

“Oh, I think she may have food poisoning or something, she’s really not feeling very well”, Chloe answers for you.

“Oh, well, in that case, go home. Get some sleep. Nothing’s really going to happen here today anyway, so I’ll just see you Monday, nice and healthy, okay?”

You weakly nod your head and give your boss a shaky thumbs-up. She pats your back and leaves.

You put the garbage can on the floor and use your chair to get up as you see that Chloe has already packed up your work bag for you.

“Thanks, Chlo”, you smile weakly at her.

“No problem Y/N. Go home and text me later, okay? And if he shows up at your place, kick his ass for me, will you?”

You smile faintly and nod as you take your bag from her and your purse from your desk. You start on your way to the parking garage when you hear another text message come in. Thinking it’s that person wanting to rub it in, you ignore it. As you get in your car, you hear another text message come in. You sigh heavily, prepared to block that person, and take your phone out.

scott towel😉, 2:35pm:

Hey

Chris hasn’t told me what time his flight gets here. Do you know?

scott towel😉, 2:38pm:

Oh, never mind, I just found the email he sent me.

Are you guys still coming to my place for brunch on Sunday?

You shake your head at the messages and put your phone back in your purse.

When you get home, you drop your bags on the kitchen counter and immediately head for the shower.

The almost boiling water hurts your body but in a good way. You wash your body and rinse yourself. You stay under the stream for the longest time, analyzing the timeline of your relationship with Chris, trying to find any evidence of him actually cheating on you. Once again, you don’t realize you had started crying until a cry escapes your lips.

You turn off the shower and dry off your body while walking into your bedroom. You can faintly hear your ringtone coming from the kitchen, but you, in no way, want to talk to anybody. You let it ring and open your dresser to change into some comfortable clothes.

Staring back at you from the bottom of the drawer are Chris’ old shirts and shorts he’d left here. You groan and slam the drawer shut. You head to the closet and take an old PJ set from it.

You head to the kitchen and take your phone out of your purse.

1 missed call from scott towel😉, 3:10pm

scott towel😉, 3:15pm:

Hey I’m about to go pick Chris up, he took an earlier flight. Are you okay?

I called your work and they told me that you’d left earlier because you were sick.

chlo, 3:16pm:

Hey so some dude called at work and asked about you. I didn’t know what it was about so I just told him you were sick.

Feel better xx

2 missed calls from scott towel😉, 3:17pm

scott towel😉, 3:18pm:

I’m worried Y/N, call me back when you can please

You roll your eyes. Scott and Chris are some of the closest siblings you’d ever seen. It was obvious he knew about Chris and that woman.

You throw your phone onto the couch and turn on the TV. Modern Family always made you feel better.

You take your throw blanket and cuddle under it. You can hear some more messages coming in but you don’t pay any attention to them.

You yawn as you blink, trying to focus on the show instead of anything else. Your eyelids feel heavy and you let sleep take over.

[tomiokai]

Reality||Spencer Reid||Part Two Of Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts

Masterlist

Part One.

{not my gif}

A/N: Like 4 people wanted a part two lol but that’s fine. So here is the long-awaited part two to Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts. I’m currently working on another fic so I haven’t been writing anything else, that’s why I haven’t been posting any fics. Anyways, enjoy!! Also, I forgot that JJ’s son is also called Henry, that just completely slipped my mind when I first wrote “Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts. So please excuse that. Also you have no idea how much I wanted to make the ending depressing but I decided against it.

Summary: After Y/n’s and Spencer’s explosive fight on their breakup anniversary, Y/n shuts herself out from everyone, even Henry. One day the girls had enough of Y/n’s behavior and decided to take things into their own hands. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings:Angst. Swearing. Drinking.

Word Count: 4.2k

-

Ice cream, sweatpants, and vodka, is one hell of a trio if you asked me. It has officially been three weeks since Spencer talked to me. He hasn’t called me yet like he said he would. Honest to god I had no idea what his problem was. 

Ever since that night I barely got off the couch only when I wanted vodka or plain old vanilla ice cream and some food deliveries. I’ve been in the exact same pair of sweatpants for three weeks and the last one of Spencer’s hoodies he had lent me when we were dating, he never asked for it back and I never planned on giving it back. The smell of his cologne had detached itself from the hoodie a long time ago but I could care less. I probably stank honestly. I think I got up twice to shower??!! Maybe I’m not really sure. All I knew was that I looked like garbage. 

Emily and the girl’s had tried hauling me out the doors to a nightclub to cheer me up but it didn’t work, I stuck to the couch like a potato. The morning of the fight I fell into a state that I honestly have no idea what it would be called, depression maybe, I sulked on the couch under a blanket for hours. Henry woke up when the birds started to chirp and crawled under the blanket with me, he had his small arms around one of my arms. Every time he saw a tear run down my cheek he would take his small hand and wipe away the tear. When I heard Henry’s tummy grumble Henry got out from under my blanket and walked off towards the kitchen. I had taken a peak from under the blanket and saw that he was in the pantry grabbing Oreo's. He brought me a few and my heart broke, I was supposed to be taking care of him not the other way around, but my body hurt so bad I couldn’t bring myself up to do anything. I was a horrible mother. That night he and I ate ice cream and goldfish crackers for lunch and dinner. It wasn’t till three days later when JJ came over to check on me when she discovered Henry eating leftover brownies from a few nights ago and me under my blanket staring at my phone waiting for Spencer’s phone call. JJ had tried to talk to me but not a single movement left my body. When she saw that it was no use talking to me she told me she was going to take Henry with her until I was better. I wasn’t offended by it and I didn’t complain, I trust JJ with Henry at the moment more than myself. 

After Henry left that’s when I got off the coach walked out of my apartment looking like hell and went to the nearest liquor store and stocked up on vodka. Ever since then vodka and I have been best friends. 

Throughout the week everyone except Spencer has come by trying to talk to me or comfort me. I locked the door and refused to look or talk to any of them. On the sixth day, Garcia started bringing me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I still wouldn’t open my door though, so she simply left the food at my door and I would wait a few minutes when I’m sure she was gone, I would quickly grab the food and close myself in again. If she hadn't brought me food my whole diet would have been crap like ice cream, goldfish crackers, and some random shit I can find from the pantry. 

Currently, I am sitting up (surprisingly) on the couch watching some stupid rom-com about this dumb couple who are madly in love with each other, waiting for my food delivery from Penelope. Truly I felt selfish for making Garcia bring me food every day and JJ taking care of Henry for me. After I get over this, I was determined to make it up to everyone who tried to help me during my dark time. 

This wasn’t me. I’m not like this but Spencer of all people has this dumb power over me. Fuck my heart and it’s feelings. 

I sat at the couch staring dumbly at my tv as the stupid couple slow danced in a meadow with fireflies surrounding them. 

“Disgusting.” I sneered throwing a goldfish cracker at the screen. 

Before I could complain more about the tv show, suddenly my doorbell rang and my ears immediately perked up! FOOD! I was starving. I made sure to wait a few minutes before I stood up and ran over to the door and swung it open. I was STARVING. 

Before I could register what was happening I was pronounced on. I blinked in shock as I finally saw my attackers face. 

“Emily what are you doing here!” I asked in utter confusion. I looked around and saw that JJ and Penelope also walk in through the door. 

“Guys what’s going on,” I panicked. “Is Henry okay??” 

“Henry’s A-OKAY,” Emily said getting off of me and hauling me up. “But you sweetheart is not okay.” 

“Guy’s I’m completely fine,” I reassured. 

“No you are not sweetie, you look like hell and your house is something else,” Garcia responded already picking stuff off my floor. 

“You don’t need to do this, you guys already did so much for me.” I breathed out. 

“Honestly Y/n you need all the help you can get, you have been sitting on that couch for three weeks crying over Spencer,” Penelope stated. 

“Spencer has been getting hell by the whole team recently.” Emily chimed in. 

“Mostly from Rossi,” JJ added. 

“Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep. Now let’s get you a warm bath.” Emily responded, as she started hauling me to my bathroom. Emily sat me down on the toilet seat as she leaned over the bathtub filling it with warm water. 

“What’s JJ and Penelope doing?” I asked as Emily started pulling my hoodie over my head.

“They’re helping you clean up your dump of a house,” Emily sang back standing me up. “Now take a nice long bath and when your finally clean we are going to go see Henry.”

I nodded back to her reassuring her I’ll get cleaned up. She left making sure to keep the door open a smidge. I stripped the rest of my clothes and dipped one foot into the nice warm water. I slowly let down my foot into the water, then the other. I bent down and sat in the tub making sure I didn't spill any of the water out. The warm water surrounds me as relief and pleasure washed over me. The warm water felt reassuring to me keeping me safe from anything that could harm me. 

I slid down the tub and submerged the back half of my head into the water not caring if the water had gotten into my ear. It felt like I was in the sky, it was peaceful and nobody could disturb it. But I spoke too soon. 

Emily burst into the bathroom, might I add very loudly. “Y/n it’s time to wash your hair and scrub your body not lay down in the tub and look dead,” Emily said bullying me into a sitting position. 

I groaned as my head lost contact with the lavishing warm water. “Fine” I puffed out. 

Emily reached to my bathroom counter and grabbed my coconut shampoo, she squeezed a large amount onto her hand and gently lathered it into crusty hair. 

“You know we found seven empty bottles of vodka in your cabinet alone. Did you drink all that yourself?” Emily asked as her finger ran threw my hair. 

I nodded my head staring straight ahead at nothing. 

“Okay, stand up and I want you to wash your body and rinse off in the shower and let the bathtub water out,” Emily said, rinsing her soapy hands in the water. She got up from her squatting position and left again. 

I slowly stood up, slid the shower curtain shut and started the shower. I rinsed my hair out and went on to scrubbing my body with vanilla body wash. For the first time in two weeks, I was finally actually clean. 

I turned off the facet off once I was rinsed off and got out of the shower. A nice clean towel lay perfectly folded by the sink waiting for me, I needed to thank Emily, JJ, and Penelope big time later. 

I opened the door and instantly noticed my apartment was clean and spotless. “Wow, you guys really didn’t need to do this,” I said amazed.  

“Don’t worry about it, now shoo, go get dressed,” JJ called to me. 

I felt really bad that they were doing everything for me but I guess they wanted to do it considering they ambushed me! I walked into my bedroom and swung open the closet door. If I were to go see Henry today I was probably going to be seeing a whole bunch of other people so I decided on a pair of black jeans and a lavender button up long sleeve, that I decided to tuck in and black boots with a 4-inch heel.

I walked over to the small mirror by the door to the bedroom and stared at myself. Wow, I looked cleaned up. 

I casually walked out of my room to find that my whole entire apartment was cleaned up and everything was in place. 

“Wow, you guys really know how to get cleaned up, how could I ever repay you guys,” I asked as they walked over to me.

“You can repay us when you change into a different outfit,” Penelope said, linking her arms to me dragging me back into my room. 

“Wait, why?” I asked as Penelope sat me down. 

They didn’t answer but instead, JJ went straight to my closet tearing it apart, while Emily and Penelope went through my drawers.

“We’re going to show Spencer exactly what he has missed out on.” Penelope sang. 

I watched as JJ flipped through my closet throwing things that she deemed “ugly” onto a growing pile on my bed.

“Y/n don’t you have any cute underwear?” Emily asked, holding up a very plain black pantie. 

“Hey! Leave my underwear out of this!” I yelled jumping up and snatching my underwear back and shoved it back into the drawer. “And plus he’s not even going to see me half naked.”

“Yeah, but what if you meet someone and you never know,” JJ responded, pulling out one of my dresses that I haven’t seen in a long time. 

It was a gorgeous baby pink dress that went down to right above the ankles. The silk v-neck dress had a beautiful seer covering over the dress and puffed out sleeves from the shoulders to the wrist, with a beautiful thick baby pink belt. 

“Oh my god! That’s the one! It’s so pretty!” Penelope squealed. 

“Don’t you think this is a little too much?” I asked, picking up the elegant dress.

“Of course not!” Emily resounded heading out the door. “Now get dressed again and we’ll take you to see Henry.” 

Penelope and JJ left right after Emily leaving me alone to get dressed. 

I turned the dress in my hand a few times before undressing again. I slid the dress over my head and looked myself up and down, I swapped the boots for some black heels and walked out of the room to regroup with the girls.

“Ohh! You look so beautiful!” Penelope gushed wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. 

“Thank you!” I laughed hugging her back. 

“Come on do a little twirl,” Emily said smiling. 

I let go Penelope and did a little twirl with my hands out.

“This is the dress! Spencer’s going to flip,” JJ said. 

“I hope he does or you did all this for nothing,” I spoke lightly. 

“Don’t say that, we did it for you mainly.” Penelope corrected. 

-

“Mommy!” Henry cried as soon as I went through the door of JJ’s house. 

“Hey, baby! I missed you so much” I said, picking up Henry in my arms.

“I missed you, mommy,” Henry said into my shoulder. 

“Me too baby.” I cried. “Did you have fun with aunty JJ and uncle Will?”

“Yes, I did!” Henry said joyfully. 

“How about I take you to go get some milkshakes? I asked looking at Henry.  

“Yeah!” He excitedly exclaimed. 

I turned around to face the girls with Henry still in my arms and said, “Thank you guys for everything, I promise I’ll somehow pay you back for all this.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said with a wink.

“Oh and dinner party at Rossi’s at 5:30.” JJ reminded me. 

As we walked out of JJ’s and Will’s house I pulled out my phone and dialed Spencer’s number. Confidence filled me as I did it but the longer it took for Spencer to pick up the more anxious I got. In the fifth ring, Spencer picked up.

“What do you want.” He spoke. He didn’t sound very pleased but also very tired.

“If you want to meet your son at all, meet us at the 24-hour diner on third street.” I shot hanging up before he could decline or accept. 

I placed Henry in his baby seat and strapped him in. I got into the driver's seat and drove away to our destination.

-

When we walked through the doors to the diner the salty smell of burgers, fries and just fried food, in general, filled my nostrils. It reminded me of all the fun nights Spencer and I had here discussing everything and anything.

I looked around the diner looking for Spencer and there he was sitting in the corner, his back facing us. 

I took Henry’s little hand in mine and walked slowly towards Spencer. As we neared the table Spencer turned around and spotted us, he didn’t do or say anything only looked at me then at Henry. His eyes never left Henry as we walked the rest of the way. I slid into the booth first and Henry followed along right after.

I looked at Henry and followed his gaze to Spencer.

“Who that mommy?” Henry asked looking up to me. 

I looked down at him and said, “how about you ask that man sweetie,” pointing at Spencer.

“Who you!” Henry said joyously pointing his little finger at Spencer. 

“Hey, buddy! I’m Spencer.” Spencer’s demeanor changed completely. 

Wow, that guy sure knew how to change personalities real fast. 

“Hi Spwencer, I Henry,” Henry exclaimed. 

“Wow! I love your name. How old are you Henry?” Spencer asked, his eyes never leaving his. 

I looked down at Henry and he was fidgeting with his fingers trying to hold up two fingers, once he figured it out he held it up high and said, “I two years old.” 

“Wow buddy, you’re so big!” Spencer said, taking Henry’s hand in his. 

All throughout their little exchange, Spencer never looked at me once or even mentioned me. I guess he was only here for Henry. 

“Hey Henry what do you want from here?” Spencer asked Henry.

“I wan vanilla milkshake,” Henry said pointing at a girl a few booths down drinking a vanilla milkshake. 

“And you Y/n,” Spencer asked, finally turning to me. 

“I’ll just have a small fry,” I responded. 

Spencer stood up from where he sat and dusted off his suit and walked away towards the cashier to order. 

When he was finally talking to the cashier I quickly turned to Henry and spoke, “Hey Henry, what do you think about Spencer?” 

“He’s fun!” Henry laughed pointing at Spencer. I followed his finger and saw that Spencer was looking at Henry very intently waiting for the food. 

In my mind, I knew I couldn’t keep Henry all to myself and close Spencer out. After all, he was his child. 

“Here’s your milkshake!” Spencer exclaimed happily, setting down a tall glass full of vanilla milkshake with whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles and a blue and white straw.

Spencer slid over my small basket of fries and sat down again in his original spot. 

When I knew Henry wasn’t paying any more attention to us I looked to Spencer and said, “When are we going to tell him?” 

“Right now if you want,” Spencer responded dryly. 

“Then tell him,” I shot back. “Hey Henry, Spencer here has something to tell you.”

Henry’s attention instantly snapped to Spencer with glowing eyes and asked, “What!” excitedly. 

Spencer glared at me before turning his glare into a happy smile and responding, “I’m actually your daddy. Isn’t that cool?”

I watched Henry as his expression changed a whole bunch of times from happy to sad to confused. But ultimately it ended up being very very excited and happy.

“Really!” Henry asked excitedly.

“Yeah, buddy!” Spencer responded with a big smile on his face. 

Without a word, Henry got up from his seat and ran towards Spencer and crawled up to Spencer and wrapped him in a big hug. Spencer immediately responded, wrapping his arms around Henry's back. 

“Are you and mommy married?” Henry asked curiously letting go of Spencer and pointing at me then to him.

Spencer looked at me and I nodded at him signaling him to answer the question himself.

“No we’re not Henry,” Spencer reposed. 

Henry’s face fell but luckily Spencer saved it, “But mommy and daddy do like each other!” Spencer happily said.

“Yay!” Henry joyously yelled. 

Spencer and I looked at each other for a moment and I turned away right after tears threatening to spill. Spencer must have noticed. 

“How about I take you out and play for a day?” Spencer asked Henry. 

“Yeah!” Henry cheered. 

“Is that okay with you?” Spencer turned to me. 

I hesitatingly responded, “Y-yeah, sure.” I responded. 

Spencer stood up with Henry still in his arms and said, “Well we’ll see you at Rossi’s later. Say bye to mommy.” 

“Bye, mommy!” Henry said, blowing me a kiss.

I pretended to catch it and put it in my pocket and said, “Bye sweetie, have fun.” 

And with that Spencer and Henry left. Wow. Both my loved ones just left through that door. I felt a pang in my heart thinking about what-ifs. What if Henry liked Spencer better than me and left me alone with no one. Definitely not the best idea to overthink but that was exactly what was happening. 

The whole day my mind never left Henry and Spencer. Constantly wondering what they were doing. Where they having fun, were they happy, were they hurt, were they in danger? 

Every time I reached into my pocket to get out my phone and call, I stopped myself they probably didn’t want to get disturbed by me. Sharing Henry was hard for me. My mind wouldn’t let me rest at all. 

Eventually, I found a way to distract myself. I went to a nail salon and had a very pretty lady manicure my nails. I poured my heart out to her and she was there the whole time comforting me and reassuring me that everything will work out in the end. That’s what I tried to think.

-

I stood outside of Rossi’s house debating whether I should just ring the doorbell or run away like a coward. I decided against running away and rang the doorbell and stood back and waited. 

As soon as the door was opened by Spencer, Henry ran into my legs and hugged them!

“Daddy took me to a fair!” We had so much fun!” He exclaimed as I picked him up.

“Wow! Did he really?” I asked excitedly. 

“Yeah! He won me this bear!” Henry said holding up a brown stuffed bear wearing a striped shirt and a top hat.

“It looks so amazing!” I responded, putting Henry down. 

I looked over to Spencer and saw that he was proudly smiling at his son. 

“Hey Henry, how about you go find Jack and other Henry and go play with them?” Spencer asked, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” With that he took off to go find the others. 

After Henry was out of view Spencer started walking without another word I followed him into Rossi’s backyard. The October sun was slowly setting in the distance as I followed Spencer to the very back of the yard as far away from the house as possible.

When we finally stopped, Spencer didn’t turn around and face me and that pissed me off. “What?” I spat crossing my arms over my chest. 

Spencer spun around to face me and slowly drew out, “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant.”

“Because,” I said hesitantly, “be-because I don’t know.” 

“You didn’t give me a chance to be a father.” Spencer said, waving his hands around to his words. 

“I didn’t want to burden you!” I whispered looking down.

“With my own son?” He asked, shifting on his feet.

I looked up to face him  and said, “No! Me! I didn’t want to burden you with me.” 

“You could have at least told me!” Spencer said, his voice rising. 

“And what! What were you going to do! Take time off from your job! Make time? You never did that for me! So would you have done it for Henry?” I yelled tears stinging the corners of my eyes. 

Spencer didn’t say anything, he was lost of words. I knew I was right and I had hit a spot. 

“That’s what I thought.” I spat. 

“You don’t know that! Henry is my son!” He yelled, cornering me into the back fence. 

“I was your GIRLFRIEND!” I yelled. 

“AND?” He asked first slamming on the wood my back was pressed to. 

“IF YOU COULDN’T TREAT ME RIGHT, HOW COULD YOU HAVE TREATED YOUR OWN SON RIGHT.” I yelled furiously jabbing one finger into his chest. 

He grabbed my wrist and pried it away from his chest and breathed, “You didn’t even give me a chance.” quietly. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” I cried. 

“Just let me be a good father to Henry. I’ve proved myself worthy of taking care of him today.” Spencer said letting go of my wrist. 

“I know you're capable of taking care of him, I’m just afraid you’d leave him unexpectedly like what you did to me,” I whispered leaning my head back so that it touched the wood. 

“Y/n, I’ve changed for the better. When we started dating I wasn’t fully committed. I just had so much on my mind.” He said cupping my face in his hand and bringing it back up so that I was looking at him in the eyes. 

“I wish I could believe you,” I whispered, shutting my eyes, tears running down my cheeks. 

“You can. I’m committed to Henry. And I know you’re not over me. So just let’s give this a try” He stated carefully.

My eyes shot open and I raised an eyebrow at him. “How do you know,” I asked. 

“Because I was the reason you shut yourself out from the rest of the world. Word travels fast in the bullpen. I’m also a profiler, I read people. Ring any bells?” He answered wiping a few tears away. 

“Ugh I hate the fact you can read me so well,” I let out a shaky laugh. 

He laughed with me, our foreheads touching. “I miss us, you know?” I whispered quietly trying very hard to not ruin the peace. 

“I know, me too.” He whispered back. 

“We fight and we get into arguments. But that didn’t stop me from loving you.” I cried. 

“I know and I was an idiot for letting you go.” Spencer whispered. “I just needed space when I broke up with you.” He responded. 

“And what about that other girl?” I asked.

“Amanda?” She was just a one night thing.” Spencer answered. 

“Yeah okay whatever.” I rolled my eyes. 

“Let’s give us a try one more time. For Henry and for us.” Spencer pleaded. 

“Will I regret it?” I hesitantly asked. 

“You won’t. I promise.” Spencer whispered, kissing my cheek. 

I looked deep into Spencer’s eyes, searching to see if he was lying to me. “O-okay we can give it a try.”  I breathed out. 

“Can I kiss you now?” Spencer asked. 

“Mhm” I laughed, leaning into Spencer. 

-

-

-

-

@april-14-blog

[psychemeanscure]

PART 20 {After two consecutive parts with full Jang Taeyoung, yeah I do need a Sung Eunyoung indeed. Enjoy y’all}

That was the last thing she can remember before she went blackout. Approached by a couple of men after a newly ended meeting. She tried. Tossing her leader bag sling from own shoulder, running after their chase over her, pulling out the only pepper spray weapon she had. Yet, none of that paid way other than her being smelled by a chloroform in handkerchief, then history happened. They successfully taken her.

Regaining consciousness, she learned that her head was actually cloth with garbage bag. Peeking a possible person, she can see but failed as the bag was pure black for her to take chances. Hands tied tightly from behind, both ankles wrapped by metal ropes. Much the duct tape plastered on her lips isn’t helping, useless screaming as only muffled sound is heard. She gave up, as only heavy breaths left.

Until someone finally take it off the bag on her. Meeting the eyes of the person she expected it to be. ‘Veeros Alcaziar.’ Her raging mention in mind. It innocently looks at her surprised as if no idea as well. “It was you?” its disbelieving words even.

‘Cut the act, old hag’ a retort from her mind once again. She may can’t blurt it out yet her blazing glare says it so. “I never thought you’ll be the co-partner of that industrial company director who wasted my money. You see señorita, I invested a sum from that Xi industry knowing that it could profit my business carefully. They promised, I trusted them, and they just flee. I had no choice but to look for the other proprietor hoping to bring back mine. If only I knew you were the other person, I could have just settle to you properly. I’m sorry.”      

Sensing another of her muffling sound, the latter takes away the duct tape without care for she need to whimper in no time. “F*ck you.” Her convicting reply as the old Alcaziar only awed in snigger, revealing its true colors. Sighing as if disappointed on its own action. “Is my acting really that bad to notice easily?” it even snaps his own forehead as if remembering where he slips a word. “Ah! Right. Flee. Tsk, how can I say that when you just met him with your last meeting? What a bad actor I am.”

“Shut the crap out, Señor Alcaziar.”

Her cold stone response, as its evil grimace slowly showed up. “So you knew.” Does, the retaliating laugh resonate the illuminating room. The only hanged fluorescent bulb swaying from the ceiling makes it more irritating. “I thought I have to work too much threat with you but damn my dear Amilia--- oh scratch that, my little Sung Eunyoung-ie… You wholeheartedly offer yourself instead. So proud of you. So like your mother, just as wise as her.”

And it stilled her. For she admits she starts to get nervous by his presence. Given the mere mention of her mother, she knew a glimpse of Pandora’s box will reopen. “W-what do you mean?” her urging eccentricity. Responded by the clicking of its shoes, arms crossed with ascendency, fully welcoming her awaiting answer. “Hm. Alright, let us put it this way.”  Removing its usual cowboy hat he’s wearing by a near table, lighting up own tobacco while pulling out something on its shirt pocket, she acknowledged it. Strands of hair tailed neatly as she can only think of one person. ‘Eomma.’

She never expected the extent of obsession the geezer has, until today. Possessing a part from a deceased is too much considering years had passed already. Inhaling like he has been familiar for such a long time, he reminisces. “God, your mom’s smell lingers my senses over the years still. Such my favorite scent.” Its interleaved remark before turning back at her with the original answer she needed.  

“Have you ever wonder of your mom’s death was actually?”

Blowing the smoke of its tobacco close to her while she remained unwavering, he continued. “Cancer?” his questioning stance after proceeding with another as he shakes his head and takes her chin, up to level his gape.

“She was killed.”

Firm and self-assertive statement before letting go of its hold, opposite to how she’s already clenching her fist tightly from behind. Observant stares from the latter but just a stern look she does. Hot fire ready to explode into her, a little more and she won’t be surprised if she blasts out any time soon.

With a tilting of its head, the old Alcaziar continues. “Brave.” A compliment she did not bother. “You being jeopardize and all, I must say you applaud me with your calmness.” Him, leaning its face closely to her, “Now listen, my sweet little pea…” he speaks. And just like that, she spits him while it’s also too fast for his countered slap.  

It was a hard one. Hard enough to leave a reddened mark on her face. It hurts her, yes but she holds it in. Letting herself satisfy with her work instead. Her contoured saliva which successfully spread all over the latter’s face gives her pride for she thought it was her chance to fight back just to shiver by his touch after fiercely wiping its own face, cupping her face tracing every part of it like his own. 

“You only had me realize a while ago that you resemble so much of your mother that I keep stopping myself on hitting you, but just looking by your behavior right now you left me with no choice. The next time you will then I, your father won’t let it slide anymore.”

“You aren’t one to begin with, geezer!”

Dodging her cheeks from his hold, she retorted. “Father! Call me father!” as his domineering affirmation came after an irate throwing of its own tobacco. Eyes of obsession starts to ponder, jaws clenching with delusion. “Your mother died…  Isn’t because of the unexplainable rapid of her cancer but rather she stopped it on purpose.”

A series of sham speech begins to create. “All of it. Each reason, is always because of that Sung Chanhyung! The f*cking coño stole the love of my life from me! You understand that?”

“You have no right!” she countered.

“I met your mother first! And that alone, gives me a right. That crazy s*cker killed her!”

“No, it’s not for you are the crazy one who killed them!!!”

She can’t attain anymore. That with the mere mention of his father being accused, she exploded. Finally, as it’s too fast for another heavy slap to earn a cut on her lips this time. Yet, none of it matters for she’s occupied with one thought and only. As her brows furrows, connecting its illusive stories to reality. Half-truths or not, she can only sum up the emotions her parents felt back then. 

Threatened, deceived, betrayed. Just three things but left a large impact for their blissful family to fall apart. “Is that how the bastardo taught you?! That puto! Why am I surprised, even? He had brainwashed my wife what more with you.”

“She had never been yours!”

“She loved me! And that you should put in mind. We were in love until he came she became unwise, giving her all as sacrifice from that foolish man!”

“Wake up with your f*cking illusion now Señor Alcaziar!”

He’s insane! A very factual word that best describes the man in front of her. That’s for sure. How can she believe him even when she herself was the witness of the unconditional love her parents had for each other? She, who begged for the both of them to share their love story during bedtimes. She, who always wonder about how lovesick they are just by staring gazes. She maybe still a little kid then but for a young age she had once known what true love is. Her parents, was undeniably each other’s first love.      

“Eh. You, stubborn child. You’re being hard to persuade still, huh?” Hair being clutched by the senseless old man, she yelps. By its menacing impatience, she’s cornered. “You better kill me instead, Señor Alcaziar. You will never hear anything from me. Besides, I’m all that you need anyway. What stopping you?”

Her spoken counter finally. But yet until a deafening laughing mockery from the latter. “Oh! No, no, no. You can’t always be exact my kid. I guess I did, at first. I had only asked for you alone, but learning about you further I got to think twice after. Then at second, I thought. Why not a little gratification, right?”        

Seconds later, the once darkened room she’s in, becomes brighter. It relieved her somehow, little not knowing that it would fade away too fast as her eyes begins to go round in shock. She was frightened.

The sight of her foster parents, seen from the monitors of the LCD TV, tied up on a chair unconscious. And to the person whom she never expected to get harmed. Being kneeled helplessly across her, appearance being tormented from its usual dominancy.  A bleeding cut from the eyes streaming on its face, swollen lips that had break its original luscious form, but most specially… the part which worried her too much.

Its wounded stomach. 

“No…”

“No, no, no.”

‘This can’t be real.’ Her disbelieving pushing of her own thoughts as she shakes her head hoping that is was all a dream. But it’s not. Her shuddered eyes never left the figure in front of her. Twisting herself trying to get away from her own situation even if it means failing. “There you are, Mi niña.”

Not even the voice of the crazy Spaniard bothered her for all she could think of is him.

And like a sinking lioness, she bawled.

Into what just the hell happened?!

“Jang Taeyoung!”

[captainillogical]

Home Ch.3

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn’t quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

Chapter Rating: Explicit

A/N: I’m sorry about the previous version guys, wasn’t my intention to write it that way, and thanks for all the feedback. Changed some things, added another thousand or so words, and re-wrote some dialogue. Thank you Star for all your help p:

This chapter is NSFW. I’m pretty sure one of the people that sent me shit was a minor, so I’d like to say this again, ya’ll. No minors.

-

"Why do 'ya seem a little out of breath? You run up the stairs?" Your girlfriend asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No reason," You lie, she doesn't need to know of whatever that was. It was probably nothing, anyway. You're just paranoid. "Met another human that lives a few floors down from us though."

"Another human lives here? Huh," She answers, interested. She's got half your boxes open, and has already stacked most of the books inside your bookcase in the living room. It's.. it's stacked like a fire hazard. You don't know what you were expecting. "Bismuth did say that more humans were starting to live in this area. Was he nice?"

"Yeah, he did ask me a lot of questions about you though."

She gives you a particular look. "Why'd he ask about me.."

"I might've mentioned I was living with my girlfriend." You say sheepishly.

"Aw jeez," She groans, wiping her face a bit dramatically with her gloved hand. 

"Am I supposed to keep quiet about it?"

"No! No. I just haven't had the chance to tell any of our neighbors about it yet." She replies guiltily. She pushes a twintail over her shoulder, getting it out of the way as she digs into an open box.

"Spinel!" You hiss out.

"What! I've been busy!" She wails. "And also, two of the quartzes on this floor are such huge gossips that I've maybe avoided the conversation with them! They've pried SO much already about my past and it's kinda 'irritatin. I know once they figure out that you're livin' with me, they're gonna bombard me with even more questions."

"Ugh, okay, you get a pass today."

"Today," She repeats, deadpan. "I should get a pass whenever."

"Nah, you're not special enough." You chuckle, grabbing some of your books to restack them into something actually resembling a bookcase.

"I am to you," She pouts a little, which is really endearing. 

"Ehhhhhhh," You start, sarcastically, until you feel a pinch on your ass and you cut off mid sentence to yelp. You whip your head around to glare at your girlfriend. "Spinel!"

"Deserved it." She grins, peering at you from the side. You contemplate throwing a book at her, but your stomach rumbles instead.

"Can you finish opening all of these boxes? I'm gonna make myself some food real quick," You say, finishing restacking that one shelf and walking into the kitchen. "I wanna be completely unpacked tonight if possible. I hate moving for this reason."

You hear her make an offended noise from the living room. "Was how I stacked these not good enough for you?!"

"I hate to break this to you, but like," You pause to open your fridge, rifling through what you bought earlier. "Pretty sure they were one bump away from being all over the floor."

"Looked fine to me."

"Have you ever had to organize anything, ever?" You take the ingredients out to make a sandwich, plopping the contents on the counter.

"..I think I'm more of the fun type, personally." She answers, and you hear her toss an empty box off to the side. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and opt to ignore it for a little bit while you feed yourself.

"Yeah? You think so?" You snicker, adding an extra slice of cheese to your ham sandwich. "I thought you were more of the 'village idiot' type."

She sputters, and you walk out of the kitchen with your sandwich in hand to see her glaring at you non-threateningly. "That's more of a you type."

"No way! You don't even have any proof." You take a bite out of your food in hand, watching her pull out some of your cute plushies that Steven has gifted you over the years. Sandwich is a bit dry.. shoulda put on more mayo. Oh well.

"Are 'ya fuckin' kidding me?" She stares at you, deadpan. Her left eye is twitching. "Why don't we revisit everything that happened on Golgotha? Hmmmmm?" 

"Okay that's not completely fair," You take another bite, and chew it thoughtfully. "It's not like I asked for that to happen to me. It was all self preservation. Besides, it's not like you made it easy."

She opens her mouth to retort with something just as an arm comes out of your hair - she screams, making you drop your sandwich.

"W-WHAT IS THAT!?"

You grab the arm, and yank Steven out of the portal he's created through your hair. He tumbles to the floor, groaning and rubbing his butt.

"You could just, like, I don't know, knock?!" You hiss out at him, patting the side of your head. That was.. uh. That felt weird.

"Maybe you should read your texts sometime!" He groans, flopping on the floor, arms out. "My poor back.."

"My fucking sandwich," You sigh, feeling sad for what could've been your life had you been able to eat the rest of it. "You owe me another one."

"I'll make you twenty if you help me not embarrass myself in front of Connie's mom again." 

"Deal." You grab his hand, helping lift him off the floor, and throw the rest of your destroyed sandwich into the garbage bin.

"Am I 'gonna get an explanation for that or are we ignoring it." Spinel says as she stares at the two of you like you've each grown another head. 

"Oh, he can just do that now that he pink’d me.” You answer quite bluntly, and Steven opens his mouth in offense.

“Don’t call it that! But she’s technically right.” He gives you a tired look, and it makes you feel a little gleeful that you can still get this kind of reaction out of him whenever you want. “I can do it with Lars too, but he’s taken to threatening me whenever I do it now.”

“You interrupt him in the bathroom again?” You grin at him, and his cheeks color slightly.

“No!” He says all too quickly. 

“Wait,” Spinel lowers her eyes to you, getting a strange expression on her face. She walks closer to you. “He can do that just whenever?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m sure he’ll ask beforehand, but yes,” You reply to her, watching as she lifts a hand to your head. “What’re you-”

“-does that mean I can?” She jabs the side of your head with her gloved hand without waiting for an answer - you slap her hand away as Steven laughs.

“No,” You sigh, Spinel only looking a little put out. “Steven’s the only gem who can. That would be a nightmare otherwise.”

“Anyway, I also came over to give you an update.” Steven clears his throat.

“For what?” You ask, now concerned. “Couldn’t you have just texted?”

“What, so you can just not look at it or text me back?” He shoots a pointed look at you, and you only feel a little bit guilty. “No, I needed to change your schedule specifically to fit around two others, so your first lesson got moved up to a bigger slot. It’s tomorrow. I’m sorry for the short notice.”

You stare at him, unsure of what to say.

“If you’re not ready, I can have Pearl take over for the time being-”

“-No! No. It’s fine, I just needed to mentally adjust to it.” You shake your head vigorously, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. You feel the anxiety swirling in your gut, but you manage to push most of it down for now. “I’m basically done with all my prep for it, anyway.”

“Only if you’re sure, Y/N.” He looks at you like he’s waiting for your face to betray you of something, but you ignore it. “Because you can talk to me if you’re-”

“It’s fine, Steven.” You cut him off. “You worry too much. Besides, you’ve got bigger things on your plate. Y’know, like Mrs. Maheswaran’s divine judgement.”

“Ugggggghhh, thanks for the reminder.” He wipes his hand down his face dramatically. “She wants me to come over for dinner this weekend so she can talk to the two of us about something. I’m not even sure what.”

“Buddy, you know she’s gonna grill you about your future.” You reply, and peer into the open box to the left of you. It’s full of kitchen supplies.

“That’s guaranteed.” He sighs, grabbing some of the items from you and putting them away. Of course he’s helping without any kind of prompt. “I don’t mind it, but I’d like a single dinner with them where I’m not feeling like I’m putting on some kind of performance.”

Your anxiety is still at the forefront of your mind.

“It can’t be that bad.” Spinel turns to him, breaking down the empty box in her hand. 

“You’ve never met Mrs. Maheswaran.” He retorts, placing your tea infusers into the silverware drawer and shutting it with a clank. “You have no idea what it feels like to talk to her. Sure she’s nice, but it’s like she’s always watching you under a little microscope..”

Spinel gives him some kind of snide response and snickers, and you hear Steven chuckle and holler out something in reply to that - but you had somehow tuned out the words as you opened the box to your bathroom supplies. 

“Give me a few, I’m gonna put all these away real quick,” You manage to say to them before ducking into the bathroom, neither of them seeming to notice your brief change in mood as you leave the door three-quarters closed.

You can still hear them making jabs at each other while Steven talks to Spinel about all the pressure Connie’s mom has put him under the last few years, and you set your box down on the toilet.

Uggghhh, okay. You can deal with this. You have no idea why something as simple as moving a lesson up two days is fucking you up this much, but you’re gonna have to deal with it anyway. Why the fuck are you so nervous? You’ve dealt with worse. You have your lessons ready - they’re basic things anyway. It’s easy. Sure, there’s a big crowd for attendance which is a little unheard of, but maybe more gems want to befriend and understand humans than you had previously considered.

You grab your box of hair ties and scrunchies, and shove them under the sink. You don’t need extras right now. You can still feel the anxiety there, under your skin. You pick up your blow dryer and straightener, placing those down as well. Why did Steven seem like he was expecting you to back out?

Does he think you’re incapable of handling this? Is this some kind of test?

You pull out your phone to text Amethyst.

[21:42] Y/N: Quick question.

[21:42] Y/N: You think I’m capable of teaching those classes?

You set your phone down after hitting send, and grab all your soaps to put away as you wait for a reply. Spinel’s voice rings out from the living room, and you focus on the sound of it for the time being. You reach into the box again, and pull out all your hair dye supplies from a while ago.

Huh. 

You turn the container of bleach around in your hand.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, and try not to wince at the reflection. You probably couldn’t.. right? You don’t think that your hair would take any kind of bleach or dye now. The utter irony is that you’ve experimented with every single other color for your hair before this, claiming you would never try pink to Steven.. and now it’s.. permanent. 

Your phone buzzes on the counter. You pick it up.

[21:44] Amethyst: uhh.. yeah?

[21:44] Amethyst: the fuck you asking for?

Okay, well. Now you just seem paranoid.

[21:44] Y/N: No reason..

Your fingers are hovering over the keyboard, and as you’re figuring out what to continue to type, she shoots a text back nearly instantly.

[21:45] Amethyst: :/

You put your phone back into your pocket. You don’t really feel like asking what that face is for, because you think you know the answer.

You finish putting away the remnants of what was left in the box, and walk back out into the living room where Steven and Spinel are now talking about how he met Connie. You throw your empty box off to the side, and look at all the stuff you have left to unpack on the floor. It’s not much left, you’re well over two-thirds done at this point, and ohhhhhhhhhhh you forgot about your laundry.

You let the other two know that you’ll be back in a few - Spinel shoots you a look that you ignore, and you head downstairs.

Your mind wanders nervously the entire way down, and the laundry room is empty when you arrive to get your clothes. Amethyst texts you again, asking you if you're okay, and you shoot her a quick 'yup just peachy'. You get your dry clothes, placing them into your hamper, and you scurry back to your floor to avoid any weird confrontations.

When you get back inside, you manage to catch the tail end of a quiet mutter from Steven to Spinel before he quickly runs his sentence into something else, and at an increased volume to avoid suspicion. You opt to pretend you didn't notice, and you easily slide back into the conversation as the three of you finish what you had set out tonight to accomplish.

Steven ends up leaving the normal way after you and him have a heavy discussion laying on your living room floor about his dinner problem, and he gives you an especially hard hug after letting you know he'll drop by after your lesson tomorrow to see how it goes with lunch that he now owes you.

The door in front of you closes with a click, and you lock it for the night. Not that you're expecting anyone to barge in, but force of habit. 

You're weirdly mentally exhausted. 

"I think I'm gonna take a shower. I feel kinda gross." Is what you hear coming out of your mouth, and you move to grab fresh laundry out of your pile that you left on the couch.

“I’m gonna try to finally figure out how to work this TV, then.” She replies, and you make your way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You place your clean clothes on the toilet lid as you turn the shower on, letting the room fill up with steam as you take off your clothes and kick them into the corner to deal with later. You don't really wanna take a shower in silence, so you opt to put some music on in the background.

You pull the curtain back, steam rolling out and hitting you directly in the face as you step inside the tub. It's so scaldingly hot that you barely manage to hold back a scream as you adjust the temp and stand away from the stream. 

After a couple seconds or so the water finally gets to a more reasonable temperature and you stand underneath it to let it soak you. It feels nice.

You look down to grab your shampoo, but instead see the gnarly scar on your stomach, and stop. You stare at it a while. The raised skin along the outer ring of where you basically got hole-punched feels weird. It's also a slightly darker pink than the rest of your skin, which you're still not really used to when you get a glimpse of yourself.

You remember the feeling of being pierced, and decide to stop thinking about this all together for now. 

You grab the shampoo bottle and pour some into your hand, rubbing it into your scalp. You feel your muscles relax.

The door to the bathroom opens and closes, and all of a sudden you hear the shower curtain being pulled back. 

"Do you MIND." You slap your arms around yourself self consciously, still having soap in your hair. You can't see shit but you know it's Spinel.

"Pfft, 'ya act like I've never seen you naked. Anyway, I just wanted to know how to turn on the TV? I can’t figure it out." She asks, letting the colder air of the bathroom in, and you can hear some water hitting the floor.

"Will you close the curtain," You reach out, grabbing the edge of the vinyl liner, just as Spinel opens it wider to step inside with you. "-what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oh, the water’s warm? This doesn’t feel too bad," You rinse the rest of your shampoo out, just to see her fully clothed half a foot from you, hand reaching out to touch the stream of water. Your heart is beating wildly - but you find yourself at ease with her presence in here, oddly enough. She’s watching you curiously.

"What, you can't figure the TV out yourself? And you thought I took cold showers, really?!" You scoff at her, unfazed at this point by her antics. "The fact that you're in here with clothes on kinda says everything about you."

"I can take 'em off." She says to you, like, duh Y/N, don't you even know me by now? You glare at her, which isn't hard since there's water being sprayed onto you and into your eyes, and she phases off her clothes, shoes and all in an instant. "Better?" She asks, like she’s doing you a favor.

"Gems don't need to take showers." You deadpan at her. "And weren't you trying to figure out the TV?"

"Just because I don't need to doesn't mean I can't. Also, I could help 'ya." She says cheekily, grinning a little.

"I don't need help bathing myself," You roll your eyes at her in jest, water starting to drench her hair. You think it’s really cute that she offers, but you’re sure she just wants a chance at messing around with you. Not that you’d really mind right now, and well.. you school your face into one that isn’t obvious to what you’re currently thinking about. You try not to focus too much on her gemstone in the middle of her chest, or her breasts, or those soft looking shoulders, or the rest of her naked expanse of skin - you need to stop before you get carried away. "..but I bet you would."

“Are ‘ya saying I can’t figure out something as simple as bathing? Something I’ve watched you do? Wow. I’m hurt, Y/N.” She feigns offense, looking around at the bottles of soap and shampoo products you have in here, picking them up and starting at the labels.

“Then try it.” You watch her eye a bar of soap, and then pick it up with her wet hands. It almost shoots out of her hands at you, and she barely manages to keep it within her grip hilariously enough.

“See, I know what I’m doing,” She says stubbornly, bringing the bar up to her nose to smell it. She rubs a bit of the suds off, wiping it on her palm curiously. All of a sudden, you get a really good idea.

“Yeah, and if you actually did, you’d know that that’s what I use to clean the inside of my mouth.” You raise your eyebrows at her, begging your own face to not betray you. 

“Wait, really?!” Her eyes widen, giving you a slightly disturbed look. She peers at the soap, bringing it closer to her face. “I mean, it smells good and the shape is right..”

She licks it, and immediately gags. The look on her face of utter disgust is the best thing you’ve seen all week.

“AUUUUGH,” She wails, pushing her face into the water to scrape off the remaining soap, and the laugh that comes out of your mouth is so loud it echoes throughout the bathroom. “Y/N!”

“Gullible.” Is all you can say between laughs, and she musters a glare at you.

“I trusted you!”

“That was your mistake.” You retort with a grin. “I don’t eat soap. I’m surprised you believed that.”

“Never AGAIN.” She gags one more time, and you grab for your bottle of conditioner.

“Here, lemme show you.” You step outside of the constant stream of water, and trade places with Spinel. Once you’re done rubbing the conditioner into your own hair, you grab your shampoo for her. You look at her drenched in water, watching you closely. You won’t lie when it makes your heart flutter in your chest, and it feels a little like falling. “Can you take your hair down for this?”

“Oh, sure,” She makes quick work of undoing her hair, and yeah, you’re definitely staring at her now. You’re having a really hard time hiding it. Getting some shampoo in your hand, you have her step out of the water for a moment and start rubbing it into her scalp. She relaxes so much into your touch that you feel your heart start to beat a little faster. “Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You answer.

“You seemed kind of off earlier.” She says, and you quickly rip your gaze from her. She definitely notices. “I could just.. tell.”

“It’s nothing, really.” You sigh, rubbing small circles into her scalp. You were kind of hoping she’d brush it off, but noooooo. She has to be observant.

She grabs your hands to still your motions momentarily, giving you a more serious look. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, I’m just anxious about tomorrow, I’ll get over it.” You meet her eyes again, and hers waver between yours as if she’s searching for a different answer. Like she doesn’t really believe you, even though honestly, that’s all it really is. You feel a little something there in your chest when you realize that she’s only like this because she actually cares about you. “Don’t worry about me.” You insist, not really wanting to overthink the day you’ve got ahead of you. 

“Want me to come to the lesson?" She offers as she drops your hands, tilting her head in question; a glob of shampoo suds run down the side of her neck. The sight is weirdly enticing.. or maybe you’re just a little pent up. Being here alone with her after what feels like forever, and naked on top of that has your brain thinking of things you probably shouldn’t be thinking of right now. 

You’re only a little ashamed of yourself.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Spinel. You’ll just give me performance anxiety.” You resume massaging her scalp, managing to get some shampoo also into her ends. You briefly have a passing thought about not wanting to dry out her long strands, because split ends at this hair length fucking blow, and then you remember she’s a gem. That doesn’t even matter. You feel a little jealous that she doesn’t have to put these kinds of thoughts into her daily routine.

"I wouldn't do anything, promise. Maybe a comment or two, but that's it." She retorts as she brings her palms up in feign offense, and you push her gently back by her shoulders under the stream of water to rinse out her hair, careful to not get her eyes. She sighs as you run your fingers against her scalp, eyes nearly drooping she’s so relaxed. "This feels really nice.." She mumbles, and the way it has your heart feeling like someone’s dropped pop rocks into it..

"I know you have work to do tomorrow though, so don't shirk your duties.” You’re basically caressing her head at this point, and she’s totally leaning into it completely. You have a feeling if you dropped your hands from her head, it’d slam into a wall. “I'll ask Garnet to sit in since she offered."

"Y/N." She looks at you, water running down her hair and face, cascading over her small shoulders. The marks beneath her eyes are strikingly dark in this light, and her pink irises are locked onto yours. You're barely listening to the lofi song playing in the background as it's mainly drained out by the white noise of the shower. She's pretty, in a way that you probably think she's never considered before, and sometimes you wish you could say this out loud without feeling like you'd combust on the spot instead. She then opens her mouth almost hesitantly, like she's finding the proper words to say. "If 'ya need me, I can be there. But.. you're kind of the bravest person I know by a long shot, so.. I know you'll be okay. You've got this, doll."

You feel your face burning at the pet name and her words, and you find yourself avoiding her eyes again. You can’t even think of a reply, and feel like you might have a heart attack.

"Are you blushing?!" She grabs your forearms in glee, and you feel your face scowling just to cover up the fact that she can have this kind of effect on you. No one has this effect on you, and goddammit you’re not about to start showing it now.

"No, idiot. It's just hot in here.." You retort, and she leans right into your personal space, about an inch from your face. Your heartbeats feel so INCREDIBLY loud in your ears.

"Liar." Her grin gets wider, and you can see her canines right there at the edge of her lip. WHY is she so attractive?! This should be illegal. "I can keep talking 'ya up if that's what you need."

"Not necessary, or needed, really.." You trail off awkwardly, knowing your face is still beet red and pretending it’s from the heat of the shower. 

"Did'ja know that you're also the funniest person I know? And the smartest? And the sexi-"

"-SPINEL." You cut her off with a choke, voice coming out all strangled.

"You've got 'ta be the most stubborn person alive, I swear." She lowers her eyes, gaze lingering on your lips. The way some of her water-logged hair clings to her skin has your eyes glued to her chest, and the gem that sits upon it. 

"You should spend a few weeks hanging out with Pearl." You try to play it off cool, and you’re anything but. 

"Why, when I'd rather spend it with you." She retorts with an eyeroll, and like, you know that the both of you have your affections laid out on the metaphorical table already, but you still find your face burning at her being so clear with it. “If it’s not compliments ‘ya want, I can be a distraction?” She asks, and then blinks several times rapidly in succession very comically, and you can’t help it but laugh.

“Yeah? And how?” You ask stupidly.

“Ohhhh, remember earlier in the kitchen?”

Your eyes snap to hers. Is she..

"Wait, you’re talking about doing it in the sho-"

She yanks your arms - pulling you forward into a kiss, and your foot slips so hard on the tub floor that you have to catch yourself on her shoulders. Her laughter rings out through the bathroom.

"Oh stars, Y/N falling into my arms? I never thought-"

"Shut uuuuuuuup," You groan, glaring at her. The thought of the two of you, here, fucking in the shower is swirling inside your head. Both of you are wet and pressed together, and you are screaming internally. "You're the one that caught me off guard, asshole."

"Maybe I just wanna see you swooning, for once. Or squirming. I'm not too choosy." The grin on her face mixed with her words has you feeling some kind of way, and you try to still your rapidly beating heart. She wants to see you squirm?! You're flattered, and also embarrassed..

"I don't swoon, Spinel. You know me better than that by now. And if you couldn't make me squirm before all this, when we weren't even friends, then good fucking luck with trying that out now that I'm familiar with you." You spit out, hoping the nervousness in your voice doesn't give you away. She doesn't need to know that you like it when she's a little aggressive and grabby. That would give her too much power.

Her eyes flicker across your face, catching onto something within your expression; her grin widens.

"Then why do you seem so nervous now?"

"Uh," Your heart jumps into your throat, and you feel the red creeping back onto your cheeks. Curse your now-pink complexion. "Pffft. What? I do not! Why the hell do you think I'm nervous!?" You lie, and it comes out of your throat an octave higher you think, which is fucking embarassing really.

"Well," She chuckles briefly, and then her face drops considerably into an expression you'd deem nearly sinister if you didn't know her. 

"Um-"

She pushes you back against the shower wall behind you hard - a squeak comes out your mouth - as the air leaves your lungs, her hand splayed out on your chest into holding you there. It feels almost like silence has filled the room, when it's quite the opposite actually - the sound of the water hitting you both is quite deafening as you stare at each other. You think she can feel your heartbeats. Like, her hand is RIGHT THERE. Her thumb even rubs the skin there a little.

"I'm starting to think you like it when I manhandle you." She says, voice low. Her fingers are pressing into your sternum.

You take the time to breathe in some air, and try to blink like a normal person. A droplet of water runs down your lower spine and you fight off a shiver. Are you really that easy to read!?

"Your silence is speaking volumes right now." She chuckles, eyes watching you like a hawk.

You have no idea what your face is displaying, but it's probably something similar to mortified shock - how can she keep hitting the nail on the head?

"Oh, shit, am I hurting you?" She quickly pulls her hands away, nearly looking frantic as her face twists into worry at your silence.

"No, of course not-" You stop, getting a weird look on your face. "-I died, remember? You can't, pfft, - I mean you can, but. Spinel." You try not to laugh, because her being worried about this is extremely endearing, and you love her so, so much. "You're not hurting me, and if you were, I'd make sure you knew."

"Okay, good, because I was really worried there for a second that I had-"

"It's fine." You reassure her, and she's looking at you intently. "Seriously."

"Like, you know that I'd rather poof myself than ever put a finger on 'ya, right?"

"I'm aware, and you know that I trust you, yes?" 

"I was 'kinda worried, but, it's clear now." She's so very close to your face, and she's warm. Her eyes take in your features as if she's burning them into her memories, and you can't help but stare back. 

She kisses you again, wet lips pressing against yours so easily - it's as if she had been coordinating this as soon as she stepped into the shower with you. Or maybe this was her entire reason. Bastard. 

She slides one of her legs between yours - yeah, okay, she was definitely planning this - and you find yourself groaning into her mouth; hot water spraying onto the both of you. You tear your face away from hers momentarily to take in a gasp of breath and she grabs your jaw, her vibrant pink irises locked onto yours.

"Breathe through your nose." She demands, not giving you any kind of opportunity to get away as she kisses you almost roughly. You feel like your entire body is on fire. 

Her body's pressed against yours; and at this angle you can see her gemstone shining in the light above you, glistening with water. She slides her knee up to put pressure between your legs, and as to not make it so easy for her you attempt to slam them shut - only making the situation worse for yourself. 

You moan as you feel her pressed against your clit, and you feel her grinning against your mouth. She slides her tongue in then, and the combined sensations has your head feeling a little light. It actually irks you enough to attempt to push her off of you to get some kind of leverage over her, but she clearly anticipated some kind of fight because she growls against your mouth in resistance, and uses both her hands to slam yours against the wall behind you with an iron grip.

What a brat.

The harder you struggle, the more she presses all of herself against you. Her grip on your forearms get a little tighter; and you find that this just makes all of your current problems worse. She rips her lips away from yours to give you some kind of smug, shit-eating grin. "You're really trying this time, aren't 'ya doll. I'll give 'ya that."

"Why won't you let me touch you?!" You spit out, but it comes out all breathily and not at all aggressive like you'd hoped.

"If you're good, maybe." She laughs, and you wish you could disappear on the spot at will. "But this is your turn."

"IF I'M-" You hiss out, Spinel switching her grip so she's got the both of your hands in one, making the other completely free to grope your breast. Her palm rubs over your nipple. "You are such a shithead!!"

"You knowwww, if you don't like it you could always tell me you wanna stop," Her eyelids lower enough to still see her irises glued to your face, and she leans in to whisper into your ear. "But we already know that you want this, Y/N."

You snap your mouth shut and she chuckles darkly, and you would like to die now, thanks. If there's a god out there, you hope he's merciful and smites you on the spot.

She immediately attacks your neck, and she doesn't give you any kind of say about it either. She's using so much teeth this time that you're worried you're going to look like a spotted leopard tomorrow, and oh god, you almost forgot.

"Leave any marks and I'll attempt to poof you myself, Spinel." You shudder as she sucks hard near the crook of your neck, hot tongue against your skin, and when she looks at you her eyes have some kind of suspicious glint to them. 

"Wear a sweater." Is all she says before going right back to your neck, and the only thing you can really do is bite back a moan as she continues. You're going to kill her for this. You're going to find out how to embarrass her in front of her new friends, or SOMETHING. How the fuck are you going to cover up these marks before your class tomorrow?! The several shades of pink blush you picked up from the drug store a few days ago from your previous shenanigans barely managed to cover the lighter marks she left last time! 

You feel her slide a hand down your torso to reach between your legs, and with the last of your strength you try and slam your legs shut just to make this difficult for her.

She chuckles into your neck, and her warm breath lights your nerves on fire. It's so steamy in here now, and some kind of jazz oldie is playing that you can kind of hear over the sound of running water. And then she drops your hands just to grip both of your thighs and spread them apart forcefully, and there's nothing you can really do about that. You know that you're heavily aroused, and you hope it isn't too obvious to her.

Holding you open, she presses her palm against you, tips of her fingers hesitating at your entrance. Like she's waiting for something.. your legs start to tremble, then she slides two fingers into you and you slam a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from moaning.

"No one's going to hear us, 'ya idiot." You hear her say, and you nearly laugh. She immediately curls her fingers upwards, and you're seeing stars at the edges of your vision.

"You think I care about being loud? I just don't want you to think you can drag anything out of me too easily," You say in between breaths, and she makes some kind of displeased grunt in reply.

"Asked for this.." Is what you hear from her before she adds a third finger; you take it quite easily, embarrassingly enough, and starts to really finger fuck you as she watches your face. 

A strangled moan comes out of you, and you see the corner of her lip curl enough to show her teeth. You hate that she can do this to you. Your hands are free though, and you think you can fuck with her a little as payback. One of your hands shoot out to touch her gem, and she lowers her eyes to glare at you and the offending appendage.

"Whaddya' think you're 'doin, Y/N?" She asks, lowly. There's a darker pink that bleeds onto her cheeks quite rapidly here, and you swipe a thumb over her center facet in spite.

"Whatever I want." You reply. Her eye twitches.

"I don't think so." She hisses and slams her lips against yours - roughly pushing your hand away from her gem, like how dare you have the audacity to even think about touching her right now. She presses you against the wall with her own body, and you moan into her mouth.

Your thighs are shaking, and the hot steam mixed with the noises of her roughly pounding her slick fingers inside you makes it apparent that you're actually not going to last like this at all. She drags moan after moan from you relentlessly, unable to stop herself from biting down into the crook of your neck like she's trying to claim you for herself. As if you'd let anyone else touch you like this.

And then she lifts up her head enough to warmly whisper something about how much she loves being in the middle of your thighs like this into your ear, and you start to see stars as your orgasm violently wracks through your body.

She holds you, watching your face as you come down, leaving small kisses upon your lips.

"Was that okay?" She mumbles the question, looking at you to make sure you're alright. The water is starting to lose heat, which means both of you should finish this up soon.

"I'm going to make you regret ever taking me as a hostage." You answer with a grin, and her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. 

"Are 'ya sure about that?" She replies, withdrawing her fingers from you ever so slowly. 

You think you're in the clear, and then she slides them back in, and you can't cut the gasp that comes out of your mouth. You slam a hand on her shoulder, glaring at your girlfriend.

"I'm sensitive, you jerk." You spit out at her, and she grins cheekily. She then actually pulls out her fingers for real, and you really, really want to make her pay for this. "Let's finish this up, the water is getting colder by the minute."

The both of you quickly finish your bathing routine, and you're almost annoyed that Spinel can just vanish water from her completely while you're still soaking wet, and trying to dry yourself with a towel.

You put on your sleepwear and drag your girlfriend to bed, where you pay her back tenfold. You honestly hope the walls aren’t thin.

You're tired, and sleep comes to you easy with thoughts of what tomorrow will bring.