#one of the waitresses has the same name as me i keep thinking someone here knows me help

[dimeadozencows]

The. One fabric store that sells the exact color of fleece i need. Sold out. Yesterday. When i made the plans to go. And i found out only now. When i made it there. After an hour long drive

[cinhomi]

okok i saw you wanted some ideas so here we go:

y/n is a waitress at a diner and one day skz comes in, but hyunjin can’t take his eyes off her. he keeps coming back to the diner and doesn’t leave until closing time anddddd I’ll leave the rest to you!!

this is a real y/n experience 🤭 but you didn't specify if skz are famous or not in this so I'm taking some liberties 😈

ALSO I'M SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG I KNOW THIS ISN'T MUCH BUT I HOPE YOU WILL STILL LIKE IT

Reservations for a lot of people are usually a nightmare to receive. Dirty dishes all over the kitchen, orders appearing from nowhere like mushrooms in a forest, rude people making demands over demands, and overall too much noise.

So when you personally answer the restaurant's phone and hear about eight people asking for a table... well, two tables, for tonight? The scream you let out is unfortunately just in your head. Your colleagues turn around when you shut the cordless phone on its stand, and your hands go to grab your hair, desperately. They hear the news. You all will be without any hair on your head by the end of the day.

It's the third time they call you over to take some orders, and the second one that they giggle when you come closer to their table. Weird. How much do men even eat? Do their stomachs have an end? More than annoyed, you're impressed by how many plates are stacked on the two tables. You carefully take them, and the towers these guys built are somehow stable and you pick them up effortlessly… they must be experts in the art of eating at restaurants.

“Can we please have some more rice?” someone asks, and a few others agree, but there is just one guy… he never talks when you come to hear their requests, or clear the space.

When you get a good glance at him behind the counter, when one of his friends goes to the bathroom and leaves an empty spot in front him, you feel your breath being knocked away from your lungs.

Plump rosey lips appearing more and more beautiful as they move with his words and part when he eats. His cheeks are a bit tinted, maybe from the alcohol he's been drinking since they arrived. Eyes long and feline, irises shining under the dim light right above his head, that also makes his long hair appear as a frame for his face, with his skin being the color of honey carefully crafted by expert bees.

His gaze finds yours once again, and he stops talking. The mole under his left eye twitches a little, as he tries to focus more the image of you in his vision. It makes you blush.

You see his friends nudge his elbow when they catch him staring in your direction, and a choir of teasing noises arises as they notice you were staring right back at him.

You come back to their table, and every time they try to embarass him, but you just smile and giggle at their jokes, not really noticing how your face always assumes the same color of gochujang. He smiles and keeps looking at you every time as if lost in thought, maybe used to his friends teasing him a lot. He must be someone popular. He has a kind face.

His friends call him Hyunjin.

Hyunjin smiles at you whenever your eyes meet and he always thanks you when you bring food or drinks.

Hyunjin sits straight and smiles absentmindedly all the time. He looks like a lovesick puppy.

Hyunjin is the only one that stays at the restaurant at almost closing time, when his seven friends thank you a million times and wink at him.

“Is there something else I can do for you...”

“Hyunjin. Please, call me Hyunjin. What is your name?”

When he hears your name his white teeth sink into his bottom lip, a wide smile taking over his face, as his head tilts slightly to the side.

“I was thinking of having dessert… what is your favourite that your restaurant makes?” his voice is soft and velvety smooth. Tempting. Sensual.

“The chocolate cake, I'd say. It's simple but satisfying and rich in flavor.”

Hyunjin slowly closes the menu, and places it in front of him, his hands playing a bit with the pages, as he takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Would you like to have some with me, when you finish your turn?”

Oh… you've never been more happier about a client staying overtime.

[johnkahner]

Hii there! How are u doing😁? If requests are still open I wanted to ask if u could write something about an idea that came to my mind.

It's from MK1 and the thing goes like this: the reader (I picture it female but if u feel more comfortable doing gender neutral it's 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻) has a thing for Syzoth but since he has feels with Ashrah she keeps her distance and tries to forget about him. After some time Kung Lao sees this and goes like 'My turns assholes!' and he invites the reader to a dinner at Madam's Bo.

She accepts, thinking that she'll be able to have some good time with him. But when the night comes Syzoth appears like "Hey guys what a coincidence" during the dinner.

Basically Syzoth has finally got interest in the reader and having overheard about the date with Kung Lao a little bit of jealousy came over him. So he and Kung Lao pass all night throwing puns at each other and trying to get their s/o attention.

I just imagine the moment when dinner is served and Kung Lao be like "Yeah, didn't you mention earlier that you couldn't digest human food?" And Syzoth be like "Pfff... Lies" and eats something. Spoiler: he can't.

Well, I hope you have a nice day and thanks for your time pretty person😊😌.

AN: Hello, I'm doing alright! I appreciate all the Syzoth I can get lol. Thank you for calling me pretty also 😳. I wasn't sure how to start writing this, but I just went with the flow lol. Enjoy the story! Not proof read.

Notes: Female! Reader, Syzoth and Kung Lao are jealous of each other.

Syzoth and you were sitting down under a tree just relaxing. He seemed to be fidgeting like he was nervous about something. His actions were concerning you. He’s your closest friend, and not to mention the you 

“What’s bothering you Syzoth?”

“Oh. Um, It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

He opens his mouth, but hesitates for a moment.

“I have a crush on someone.”

“Ooo! Who’s the lucky person?!”

Your heart flutters at his words, but the feeling is gone soon at what he says next.

“Ashrah.”

You felt awkward after that interaction. As time went on, you slowly started to distance yourself from Syzoth. You weren’t sure why you were doing this. When others were noticing this they would ask either you or Syzoth. You would ignore them, and poor Syzoth he would tell them he had no idea either. 

One person saw this as the time to strike, and by strike that means to ask you on a date. This certain someone was none other than Kung Lao.

“Hey, would you like to join me later for dinner at Madam Bo’s?”

“Is this a date, Kung Lao?”

“Of course! Not to mention I’ll be paying for the two of us.”

“My, what a gentleman you are!” 

The two of you are laughing, and you’re slapping his shoulder. After discussing a time for this date you both fail to notice that you were being watched. Syzoth was watching the two of you talk. He missed the interactions the two of you had. He feels as if he did something wrong to you, but he doesn’t know what. He decides that he will “coincidentally” show up at the diner at the same time as the two of you. 

—

Kung Lao and you sit down at a table. Getting ready to order your dinner the two of you were looking at the menus. You hear a pair of footsteps stop at your table, and you think it’s a waitress about to ask if you two are ready to order. Before you look up the person speaks up.

“Well, isn't this a coincidence?”

You look up to see none other than Syzoth. Before you could say anything Kung Lao speaks with an agitated look on his face.

“Yes. Isn’t it? Why don’t you join us?”

He pats the spot beside him.

“Here’s a seat right here with your name on it.”

Not long after he sits down, the waitress appears to take your orders. Kung Lao and you order your food with no problem, but Syzoth struggles with what to pick. After a few minutes of everyone trying to help him pick something to eat. 

The energy at the table is tense, but while waiting for the food to arrive Kung Lao and Syzoth are taking jabs at each other. 

“Elder Gods, your breath stinks! Do you even brush your teeth?”

Or,

“At least with my strength in my Zettarian form, I don’t need to rely on a stupid hat.”

You were baffled. The two of them were acting like children. You weren’t really saying much, just sipping on your drink watching the two bicker. Syzoth was looking at you with the occasional glare towards Kung Lao, and Kung Lao vice versa to him. 

When Syzoth saw you with Kung Lao it made his heart feel numb. He hated how the feeling felt. Then a thought hit him, was this why you were avoiding him. When he confessed his feelings about Ashrah to you because afterwards was when you distanced yourself from him.

Kung Lao was pissed. This was his chance to get with you, and this lizard was getting in his way! Syzoth already had his chance to get with you, and he didn’t seize the opportunity to make you his girlfriend. Hell, Kung Lao even waited a week or two just to make sure it would be a good moment! 

—

The food arrives. Kung Lao and you were enjoying your meals. You look over to see if Syzoth was at least enjoying the food. You didn’t know much about Zettarian appetites. It seems that the food wasn’t to his liking. He was just picking at it. 

“Is the food not to your liking, Syzoth?”

You were concerned, and thought that it would be something he might like. He looks paranoid, and he’s about to answer your question till Kung Lao speaks up before him. Kung Lao has a devilish smirk on his lips. 

“Hey, now that I think about it, around the time we met you said something about not being able to digest human food?”

Syzoth looks panicked for a moment, but quickly relaxes himself. He lies to the two of you.

“Pffff... You’re lying to make me look like a fool.” 

He shoves some food into his mouth. The taste is not anything he is used to, but it tastes decent enough. 

Throughout the night the three of you eat some more, and order some dessert. However, Syzoth’s stomach had other plans. He quickly stands up and before he rushes out of the restaurant he says.

“Apologies, but I must leave real quick. If I don’t return before it’s time to pay the check, I promise to pay you two back.” 

Kung Lao laughs as he watches Syzoth scurry away. You watch with a look of concern.”

“I hope he’s alright.”

“I knew it! He couldn’t handle human food!”

You look at Kung Lao with a look that just says “seriously?”, and that causes him to laugh even more.

[deuxcherise]

Collar Crimes: Red Letter

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, yandere OC, yandere male, Eris being Eris, gender neutral reader, reader has some personality in this one, comfort, fluff, angst (?), mentions violence (eye plucking), flashback scene, may include annoying use of "my" a lot, includes a picture of a simple sponge cake (because why not? You'll see~)

A/n: So I happened to come across those Chad skits from SNL (yeah, I know I'm late to the party) and I was also thinking of how Eris met the reader. So this is kind of a prequel to Weasel In, I guess? I highly suggest reading Part 1 before this, but do as you like. Enjoy~

Masterlist | Part 0 (you're here!), Part 1, Part 2

There were many times in your life when you almost regretted taking this 9-to-5 customer service job.

Briiing! Briiing! Tch.

“Hello~ This is Lychee speaking~” you sing into the phone. “How may I sweeten up your day today? Or is there something on your mind today that you'd like to share with me, my dear?” 

Shlick. Shlick. Shlick.

You hear a growling male voice on the line groan, “Oh god, keep talking–”

You immediately hang up.

Briiing! Briiing! Tch.

Professionalism, be damned. Yeah no. You definitely regret taking this job. How did you even get this job anyway? Well, however you got it, unfortunately, it just pays too well for you to just up and quit now.

“Hello~ This is Lychee speaking~ How may I sweeten up your day today? Or is there something on your mind today that you'd like to share with me, my dear?”

Then again, being an anonymous voice on the other side of the line is far better than your last job, where you had to wait tables for the mafioso in a very, very scandalously short waitress outfit. You were quite popular because of your unintentional moe gap where you would say some of the cringiest lines in history in a cutesy voice while wearing the stiffest expression. It wasn’t on purpose, the facial muscles on your face just don’t work the way most people’s do.

There are times you think about staff, especially Remy,  the most buffest and nicest chef you have ever met. As much as you wanted to stay with them at the time, you were sure that sooner or later you'd be kidnapped by one of those criminals if you continued to work there.

…..

Well, you technically did get kidnapped, which proved your point. That’s a story for another time.

Back to the point, when you left that job, left everyone and everything behind, you made sure you left without a single trace. You had to. The slightest crumb left behind could have created a scent trail all the way back to you, and you would have been left with only one way out…

You shake your head and body, ridding yourself of those kinds of thoughts. It’s time to re-focus on maintaining your character for your next caller.

Briiing! Briiing! Tch.

“Hiiii~ Cherry, Cherry here! How are youuuu~?”

“Salutations, this is Blueberry, sweetheart~ And you?

Although your face lacks the ability to show emotion, internally you smile at the voices of your coworkers, who must endure the same cringiness of stating their work names aloud. When else would one be able to call themselves fruit names?

… Well, you suppose Cherry would, since that is her actual name. How she hasn’t been kidnapped by any of her callers in this godforsaken city is gosh darn miracle in your book.

Your company, Fruity Friends, was created by some previously closeted man, who felt people needed someone—a complete stranger—to share intimate details of their love lives with, without the fear of being outed. Apparently, it was an idea that conjured up during his break at work when he once sat in the restroom stall and spoke to a floating voice who gave him advice to confess to his long-time highschool crush turned coworker. He found out who the voice belonged to, but lo and behold, he ended up getting married to his long-time crush, and thus, with the amount of money and influence he possessed, the company was born.

A noble endeavor, no doubt, but, in your opinion, he might've failed to account for the… inappropriate individuals who you feel should’ve gone into proper therapy instead of taking advantage of a nice-sounding voice. Seriously, the lengths these hooligans go through just to harass other people… Then again, these are often the very people who pay your bills, so who are you to complain?

You hang up the phone with a satisfied sigh, having finished another long call. You had given them the advice to make a list and check it twice before going ahead with their big proposal to their lover. You interlace your fingers and stretch your arms out in front of you. Time to take a—

Briiing! Briiing! Tch.

“Hello~ This is Lychee speaking~ How may I sweeten up your day today? Or is there something on your mind today that you'd like to share with me, my dear?”

“A-ah… um… h-hi there… I'm… Eris… um…”

If you weren’t a professional, you would have squealed out loud. The rowdy ones are common, but the quiet and meek ones are so adorable! Some of your most loyal clientele had started out as nervous wrecks, which means you have quite a few scripted lines to choose from. Although this one chose the most basic package, according to the call line, you always bring your best.

“Hello Eris~ What a lovely name. A pleasure to meet you! How are you?”

You hear him mumbling to himself on the line before he comes back. “Um… is this… really… uh… confidential?”

Ah… Sometimes, they turn out to be one of those perverted bastards like the one earlier. This one sounds too cute, it would be such a shame…

“Why yes, of course, my dear Eris! Everything you say here is completely safe with me. And if you don't believe me, then believe in the contract that had brought us together. There is nothing you say that can be taken as evidence! Rest assured, you are safe here with me, here at Fruity Friends.”

You hear him gasp. “O-oh…okay… Um… I-I'm… your dear Eris?”

Aww, how cute! You hope this customer becomes one of your loyal clientele. Still keeping up your cutesy persona, you answer, “Why yes. And I am your Lychee~”

“O-oh… M'kay… my Lychee…”

You pause, quickly mute the phone for a moment, and squeal to your heart’s content for just a second, before unmuting the phone.

From then on, Eris would return and call for you every single day for months, except for the weekends. Calls could only last about an hour, as per the package deal, since that was the company policy to accommodate multiple customers per day— unless they were willing to pay for the package multiple times. 

On the following Mondays, he'd call in to check up on you and pout about how much he missed you and wished you could talk to you all day every day. And you, in your persona, would reply that you wished you could talk to him all day as well.

It did occur to you how Eris somehow had the funds to completely take up your entire work time. And even stranger is how so far your manager hasn’t complained at all… Well, you’re making your rent on time so it doesn’t matter, right?

Besides, you quite enjoy your conversations with Eris. Once he became more comfortable, he started asking about all kinds of topics, ranging from philosophical takes such as:

“Which is better to eat first first? Steak or salad?”

“Depeeeends! I heard Americans usually eat salads before steaks and the French eat steak before salad. So it's up to you, really, ya know?”

“I see! … Hey, do you think graham crackers are cookies or crackers? I think they are crackers, but what does my Lychee think?”

To things that happened to him recently:

“LyCheeEeeEe!” he whines on the other side of the phone, voice clearly indicating he's been crying. “My LycheEee.”

You play along. “WhaAaaAt, my dear ErIsssSss?”

“T-there…” he sniffs. “There was-was this guy…”

“Awww, noo! What did this mean guy do, my dear Eris? Tell your Lychee.”

You start noticing recently that it seems once a week, Eris would encounter some mean dude who'd insult him and then he'd come to you for comfort. How he always ends up in such situations is beyond you.

And he's always… always does something about it a week later.

“My LycheEeeE.”

“YeeSsss, my dear Erisss?

“You know that one guy… you know the one I told you last week who I keep meeting in the subway, the one who kept saying I keep looking at him funny and kept shoving me?”

“Yeaaaah?”

“I finally ripped his eyeballs out!” he says, almost shrieking from excitement. “So he can't tell who's looking at him wrong or right anymore! Isn't that great??”

Your mouth falls open in shock, only to close it and consider the next words that should come out. Due to the confidentiality clause, unfortunately, whatever a customer says is not liable to use as evidence. Even if it means allowing… crimes like these to continue.

“That's greeaaaat!“ you answer, your throat tight. “You feel better now, don't you, my dear Eris?”

“I do, I do! Hehe~”

Such a troubling life, he has. Even if there is a person you could talk to, you'd never admit that sometimes… sometimes listening to him makes you feel better about your uneventful life, only having to worry about keeping your job, keeping a roof over your head, and keeping your belly full.

Besides, what's there to worry about? Your identity is unknown and your persona is too friendly to get on anyone's nerves.

-----

[Some time later…]

Briiing! Briiing! Tch.

“Hello~ This is Lychee speaking~ How may I sweeten up your day today? Or is there something on your mind today that you'd like to share with me, my dear?”

“LYchEeeeE! My LyCheeEee.”

Oh, his feelings got hurt again. What is it this time?” “YeeEeesss, my dear Eris? What's wrong? Tell your Lychee.”

You listen to him bawl his eyes, cooing and offer your sympathies, like a mother to a child.

“M-my best friend… he said…  he said…”

Oh, his best friend. Eris has never revealed his friend's name, but based on the description he gives you, sometimes you wonder why someone sweet and innocent— albeit a little violent— like Eris was friends with someone like that…

“Aww, no! Was he being a meanie again? What did he say?”

“He said… that I should get a life and stop talking to you.”

You feel your heart drop. “R-really? He said that?”

Ah… well. It isn't the first time a customer has left you, or rather left Lychee due to personal reasons.

Lychee is a cute person, someone who likes to hang out with their friends, who likes to party all day and all night, who likes to share the most scandalous gossip from their supposed life. Lychee is someone who wants everyone to like them and to help people get through difficult times…

But in the end, Lychee isn't a real person. Lychee couldn't leave their job to hang out with friends. Lychee couldn't attend parties and weddings. Lychee couldn't fall in love. Lychee was just a faceless voice who only spoke once you paid the price, and even then only for an hour or two out of the entire day.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about all of that. Who has time to party and hang out with friends and share other people's business when you have no safety net to fall back on if you were ever to go jobless? Forget about reputation, you were already used to people making assumptions based on your stoic appearance.

That being said, it wasn't like it didn't hurt when your customers got on with their lives. It was just… inevitable, and you had long since accepted that. Perhaps, this was a sign that it was time for Lychee's Eris to move on. He's spent over thousands of dollars just to speak to you over several hours per day over a span of four months already, single handedly paying your entire rent. As a fellow human who has to work their ass off in order to live, you can't bear to become the reason he goes broke.

“Yeah… but I don't want to! I love talking to you, my Lychee! And you love talking to me too, right? So I don't see why he’s telling me to have a life. I am living! Ugh, stupid…”

You mull over all kinds of lines but in the end, you whisper, “... Maybe, he's right.”

….. 

“What?”

“Listen, Eris-”

“Your Eris. I'm your dear Eris. Right? Right?”

His voice sounds sharp and metallic… you've ‘slipped’ up a few times, and he'd always softly correct you with his usual whiny voice. Not like this.

You cough, getting back into character. “Yesss, you’re absolutely right! My dear Eris. Sorry~ LiSteeEeen. As much as I love talking to you, I think that you're spending way too much money on me! I feel flattered and all, but I’m scared you're going to go bankrupt at some point!”

Silence on the phone… until you hear him cackle loudly like you had just told him the funniest joke ever. Moments later you hear him again. “Aha… ah… Is that what you were worried about, my Lychee? Aww, you're the best~ That's why I… But don't worRrrRry~ As the eldest son in my family, I inherited everything after my parents died. Enough to last me years to the point I don’t even need to work. Money isn't an issue at all, my Lychee.”

A bitter taste on your tongue. “Bas-” You clear your throat, the curse word almost slipped from under your persona. “Bestieee, even if money isn't the issue, your mental health must be taking a toll with all those troublemakers you have to deal with a lot. Other than your best friend and of course me, your Lychee, do you ever talk to anyone else?”

“... Why should I? I only need you, don't I? Also, I'm not your ‘bestieee’, I'm your Eris.”

“R-Right, my dear Eris~ I'm just saying. One day you'll want to… you know? Hug someone, hold hands, kiss, or even just… be next to someone. In person. We both know, I can’t do that for you. Don't you want a more… authentic relationship or friendship with someone? Besides your best friend. Besides me.”

A pause. “... Is this part of your character?”

You blink. “What do you mean, my dear Eris? What character?”

“... Huh… Come to think of it… I’ve never thought about it before, but Lychee’s not your real name, right?”

Your voice gets caught in your throat. “... Ehhh? But it is! I wouldn't lie to you, my dear Eris.”

Another pause. “… This line is confidential, right?”

“Mmhm! Always have been!”

“Then what’s your real name?”

Your free hand wraps around the cloth of your pants as you hold the phone against your ear. “I… My dear Eris, I told you. It’s Lychee. Your Lychee!”

You hear him sigh, before he suddenly hangs up. You look at your phone, very confused and worried. He has never hung up on you just like that before. Did he just… leave?

After several weeks of no calls from him, you figure he finally did leave. Fortunately, there are always new callers on the line along with some really loyal customers who've been patiently waiting for you to pay them some attention. While it bothers you, at the same time, it sort of relieves you. He must be finally living his life now, instead of spending it all on you.

…..

It’s a shame though… He was such a charming fellow, so open with his emotions and sweet with his words. It was… different from your other customers. Somehow.

Once you finish your 9-5 job for the day, you bid your coworkers goodbye, drag yourself out of the office to the bus stop, wait for the bus, get on the bus, wait until your stop, get off your stop, drag yourself home, enter your home, lock your door, and collapse on your couch, still in your work uniform. Same as usual. Why your company felt it was necessary to have a uniform when your job only requires your voice is beyond you.

You close your eyes and let yourself be whisked away to dreamland… 

.

.

.

.

.

Shick shick shick shick!

You wake up at 3AM, according to a glance at your clock, to the odd sound of… whisking? You slowly sit up, get off the couch, walk to the source of the noise, and find a handsome young man standing in the kitchen, whisking away at some white fluff in a bowl.

You rub your eyes and blink several times, wondering if you’re still asleep. What the heck am I looking at?

The man stops whisking and looks at you. He smiles bashfully. “My Lychee-”

WOW! Has it really happened? You’ve finally reached the point you’ve overworked your mind and body to exhaustion! And now you’re either hallucinating things at 3AM or you’re in the middle of a nightmare! There’s only one person in the world who calls you that and there is no way in hell Eris would be in your kitchen at 3AM, covered in flour, and smiling at you like this is all normal! WOW!

You slap your cheeks with both hands. Hard.

Eris gasps, dropping the bowl of whipped cream on the counter. He grabs onto your hands and inspects your face with a worried expression. “Lychee! Are you okay? Why did you slap yourself?”

His hands feel oddly very real and your cheeks oddly hurt really bad… but there's absolutely no way Eris is actually in my home, right? Wake up wake up wake up-

“Lych–No, I should say (Y/n), right? I would call you my (Y/n), but you're already mine, so–”

Oh, heck no.

You take your hands back and head out of the kitchen, take out your phone from your pocket, and quickly tap on the screen.

Briiing. Briiing. Tch!

“Local Police Department, how may we–”

Your phone is suddenly snatched from your hand. You throw your hand out towards it, only for Eris to take several steps back and hold your phone out of reach. He looks at the phone and immediately hangs it up and tosses it somewhere on the ground. Then he moves so quickly you don't have time to react until he's wrapped you in his arms. He places his head on your shoulder, his lips tickling your neck. “(Y/n)... Don’t do that. I missed you… so, so much… ”

You can only stand there, hands awkwardly hanging there at your sides, trying to absorb the bizarreness of this situation. “W-why are you here? H-how’d you get in?”

“Never mind that, your dear Eris is here now.”

You take deep breaths. “Eris…”

“That's me~ I'm your Eris~”

“Right… Uh, could you… let me go?”

“I don’t wannaaaa.”

Your eyes look all over the place, as if looking for a camera that’ll pop out and announce that this is all just some elaborate prank. Except there are none, and this is all very real.

You clear your throat, collecting yourself. “Okay… Fine… Listen. I… I think I get why you’re here. It’s because you like Lychee, right?” you try to reason. “Well, sorry, but bad news is, I'm not anything like Lychee. Lychee is just a character.”

“I know.”

You purse your lips, and then say, “Okay… so that means you don’t know me. Me. We’re strangers! You have no reason to be here! Get off me!”

He lets go of you but slides his hands down to your arms. You’re unable to pull away. What’s with this strength?

“Eh? That’s not true!” he says. You're (Y/n). You like (favorite animal), (favorite fruit), (favorite TV show), (favorite dish), (favorite pos–)”

You begin to sweat as you listen to him list of all of your favorite items, before moving on places you’ve ordered food from, to private details, such as your age, your highschool, your address, your family home address, even your Social Security number–Who the heck is this man and how did he find these things out?

“–and that’s all I have so far. What do you think, (Y/n)?”

“Get out.”

“Nooooooooo!”

He pulls you into a hug again, as if to emphasize the point that he’s not going anymore. You try to twist and turn your way out, but you find his grasp to be extremely difficult to get out of, despite how gentle he’s being with you.

“(Y/n)... You know…” he mumbles into your shoulder, making you still. “For the last few days, I finally realized what you meant the last time we talked. It’s true. One day, I will want to be with someone. In person. Hold hands with them. Hug them. Kiss them…”

He leans into your ear and whispers, “But I have also realized that I would only want that… with you. Only you. I love you, (Y/n).”

…..

“I’m… sorry,” you stutter. “I don’t…”

“Oh, that’s okay!” He releases you and steps back again, interlocking his fingers with yours this time. A blush appears across his cheeks as he bashfully looks up at you with his head tilted down shyly. “We can start over. Today can be our Day 1?”

His fingers have incredible strength, again you’re unable to escape their gentle grip. “What? Day 1 of what?”

“Oh? You don’t know?” he says, softly swinging your hands side to side. “Day 1. Dating.”

…..

“Who says we’re dating?” you screech, wanting so badly to rip your hands away from this deranged man.

“Eh?? What do you… Ohhh! I haven't asked you properly yet, huh? Sorry, love. Will you date me?”

“No! We've just met!”

“Oh.” You can see the cogs turning in his head, before he tilts his head and giggles. “But that’s exactly why we should date. People date to get to know each other more. Silly, (Y/n). But if you need further convincing: as you can see I’m handsome, and I have money! Lots of it! You’ll never have to work a day in your life. I’ll be the best boyfriend for you.”

Tempting as that sounds, the idea of placing your life into the hands of someone else just like that? Hah! No thanks. “No.”

The cogs are turning again before he reaches another answer in his head. “Ohhh, I get it! I'm so dumb! It took me so long to realize… You haven’t realized you love me too, right? That's okay. I can wait. Hehe~”

You stare at him incredulously, speechless. What the he-

Ding!

“Oh!” He drags you back into the kitchen before letting your hands go to don your oven mitts and take out a freshly baked cake to flip it over a rack. “Ta da~! Mmm, sorry. I was hoping to decorate it before you woke up but… well, who needs frosting anyway, right?”

You place a hand against your forehead “What… why?”

His eyes widen in surprise. “Eh? Did you forget? Oh, love. It’s your birthday today. Happy birthday, (Y/n)!”

-----🔔-----

[Many, many years ago…]

“Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday, dear (Y/n)~ Happy birthday to you~ Now, make a wish!”

You close your eyes, make your wish, and blow all the candles out in one go, ensuring your wish will come true as it always does every year.

You receive two presents to open. One from your Mom and one from your Dad. That’s how it always is on your birthday, or your Mom or Dad's birthdays. Just the three of you. No one else. Even now in your teens, your birthday party has only three members and there is nothing more that could make you happier.

After a fun-filled birthday, you went to sleep so peacefully that you didn't wake up the next day. Your parents decide to go grocery shopping without you, letting you rest in because it’s a Saturday.

It was a normal day. Just a normal day.

Sometime after you wake up, you hear heavy knocking at the door. Curious, you open it and find the police. They come bearing heavy news.

There was a drunk driver on the road.

Your parents didn’t make it.

Your wish didn't come true.

-----🔔-----

[Present…]

No matter how many candles you blew out, your wish didn’t come true. It didn’t the year after that. And the year after that. And the year after that. It would never, ever come true ever again, and at some point you just stopped celebrating your birthday altogether.

“(Y-Y/n)? Do you not like it? I’m s-sorry…”

Your vision turns blurry as memories flood into your mind. Your eyes fill with hot tears to the point it flows down your cheeks. For the first time in a while, your face twists in agony as you try to stop the dam from breaking in front of a stranger, but your knees give out instead.

Eris catches you and you both slowly sink to the ground. He holds your head gently against his shoulder, letting you cry out years worth of contained sorrows and to your heart's content as he pats you on the head, cooing at you and offering you words of comfort. He doesn’t understand, but at least you aren’t pushing him away.

Once you run out of tears to cry, you whisper with a broken voice, “Thank you… for the cake.”

“Anytime, my love, anytime.”

“... I'm not… your love.”

“Shh, shh… Take it easy… I'm here for you…”

“Idiot… Just leave me alone…”

“M’kay.”

…..

“I said leave me alone. Why are you still here?”

“Mm… because I don't think you want me to leave you alone right now?” he offers.

You sigh, giving up completely.

…..

Grumble…

“(Y/n), before I go, would you like to eat some cake?”

“... No thanks.”

“Oh… Okay. Well, I also got a present for you too.”

“Don't want it.”

“Can't return it, I'm afraid,” he sighs. “It cost so much too…”

“... Fine. I'll take your stupid gift and eat your stupid cake.”

“Yay~”

[logbush]

Yay a Glee (Quinn) writer! lol I miss her! Can I request reader lending her sweater to Quinn, when Quinn is home, she realizes she still has r’s sweater and she find r’s iPod. Out of curiosity, Quinn looks through it and finds a playlist titled with her name, friends to lovers please! :)

Lost Something?

1,035 words

fluff

quinn fabray x reader

a/n: this was hard to write for some reason lol. keep sending your requests, im working on them right now and they should be out sometime soon!!

if someone would’ve told you that you would’ve fallen for your best friend quinn fabray, you would’ve laughed in their face. but here you were, sitting across from her at breadstix trying hard not to lean over and kiss her. she was wearing a red sundress, matching her red headband, and jeans. a look that made your knees weak. you, however, had decided to dress down for the occasion, a hoodie and sweats, you didnt expect her to dress up so you didnt.

she looked at you and laughed softly “whats going through your mind, y/l/n,” she said softly before taking a bite of her food. you shook your head “no nothing, dont worry” you replied before pushing your plate away, something you did whenever you were done with your food. “you’re already done? i just started!” she joked, trying to finish her food faster. “hey, we dont have to finish at the same time” she laughed softly before copying you and pushing her plate away towards you after she finished.

the waitress brought the check by, you and quinn looked at each other. you both wanted to pay but you didnt want to fight about it so you just let her. she smiled as she reached for the check and put her card in it. you sat back and looked at her with a smile. “you let me pay?” she questioned. “i didnt want to fight about it” you answered. she shook her head “we wouldn’t have fought, i would’ve just made us get my way” she smiled while you laughed, “sounds like a fight to me” the waitress brought back quinn’s card. the blonde said a quick ‘thank you’ to her before the two of you got up and started to leave.

it was cold outside, ohio in december isn’t exactly the warmest. you looked at the cheerleader next to you, watching as she was shivering. you quickly took your hoodie off before handing it to her “put it on” you instructed as you walked with her to your car. she looked at you, without your hoodie you were left in just a t-shirt. she shook her head “i dont want you to freeze” she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to conserve warmth, “i’m not going to freeze, q, you might though” quinn scoffed jokingly before taking the hoodie from your hands and slipping it on, the smell of you wafting through her senses.

quinn wouldn’t never admit this to anyone, but she was starting to catch feelings for you as well. you did the sweetest things try to make her happy, like giving her your hoodie whenever she was cold or making her her favorite pastry whenever she was sad. you remembered the small things and she loved that about you.

you dropped quinn off at her house about a half an hour ago. she had been sitting on her bed in your hoodie all that time. she turned on her side and put her hands in the pocket. the blonde felt something touch her hand. curious, she pulled it out of the pocket and looked at it. your ipod. god, you must’ve been dying without this. you can barely go five minutes without music.

quinn got curious about what you had been listening to all these years so she decided to go through it. show tunes, neil diamond, john denver, billy joel, simon and garfunkel. all people she was expecting, you weren’t very new with your tastes. she kept going through it before landing on a playlist. this playlist intrigued the blonde, as it was titled ‘quinn <3’.

the cheerleader smiled at the sight before quickly clicking on it before she could think. make you feel my love, lucky, something, but one song stood out to her, you belong with me by taylor swift. the only song from this playlist she actually knew and knew the meaning of.

quinn sat stunned, the thought of you actually liking her back made her crazy. she couldn’t wait til tomorrow to find out, she needed to know now. the blonde raced downstairs and outside to her car. she got in and drove to your house, breaking numerous speeding and stopping laws.

once the blonde got to your house she knocked on the door until someone answered. just to her luck, you were the one who answered. “whats up quinn? why are you knocking so much?” quinn looked up at you, looking at you dressed in sweats and a tank top. she gently bit her lower lip before holding up your ipod, “lost something?” she said with a smirk. you smiled brightly before yanking your ipod from her hands “oh my god i thought this was gone forever! was it in my hoodie?” you questioned while bringing her inside and up to your room. quinn nodded and sat on your bed “it was, you know, there was a certain little playlist that caught my eye”

your eyes went wide and you looked down, trying to avoid any and all eye contact “i dont know what you’re talking about” you mumbled. quinn smiled and looked at you, she didnt need your confirmation, your reaction made her know you liked her. you felt the warmth of her hand on your back rubbing soft circles “hey its okay, can you look at me for a minute?” she questioned. you looked at her, scared for whats going to happen. the blonde used her hand to cup your cheek, gently rubbing the apple of it. “you like me right?” she asked. you closed your eyes in fear, you didnt want to lose her. you just nodded in response, your eyes still closed.

quinn sighed and looked at you, she knew you weren’t going to open your eyes so instead of trying to talk to you, she just placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i like you too” she said softly. you opened your eyes slowly, making eye contact with her before kissing her again. she smiled and kissed back before laying down on her back, inviting you to lay on her. you laid your head on her chest.

“so are you gonna send me that playlist, love?”

[louloulemons-posts]

Oil At The Coffee Shop VI

Eddie X Fem!Reader

Summary : October rolls around, it’s time to prep the shop for Halloween with the help of your friends.

Word Count : 1.8k

Warnings : not proofread, fluffy, eddie x reader content, scars, eddie has a mini panic, waitress is slightly rude to eddie, just pure cuteness, halloween fluff

Fic Masterlist

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The summer days had finally ended, people had gone back to school and the air became a lot cooler now that mid October was around.

Although it was a Sunday, you, El and Max were working hard to decorate the shop for Halloween. Stood on a chair you put a plastic pumpkin up on a higher shelf amongst the books.

“Be careful!” El said as she opened hung a ‘Happy Halloween’ banner on the counter.

“I’m alright Honey,” you smiled at her, taking another plastic jack o lantern from Max.

“Think that’s enough here?” you asked. She took a few steps back, “It looks great!”

“So add a few pieces of cobweb here and then this part is done, then it’s just the outside.”

The bell on the door chimed, signalling someone’s arrival. “Pumpkin delivery!” Steve called out. You smiled, carefully getting down from the stool. “Ah you’re just the best!”

“Tell me something I don’t know! Eddies got them in the van so where do you want them?”

“They’re mainly for outside and the window so. You girls carry on in here, do not climb on the stool,” you said sternly, knowing Max would definitely try it.

She held her hands up in defence and you followed Steve out to Eddies van. The back doors were open, revealing various pumpkins in the back. “Hey,” Eddie said, giving you a slight smile. “Hi, thanks for doing this.”

“No worries Sweetheart, d’you need help getting them in?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said, taking the largest pumpkin and carrying it inside with ease.

Steve raised his brow at you as Eddie headed inside, “Shut up.”

After talking at Steve’s barbecue, you and Eddie had become fast friends. He popped in every few days to pick up coffee and treats for him and Wayne and sometimes just to say hi. You surprisingly got along really well and spoke most days - even over the phone.

“Where do you want it Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pumpkin still in his arms. “Oh on the widow sill, like here,” you pointed to a spot. Eddie placed it perfectly. “Do either of you want something warm so you don’t freeze?” you asked.

“Coffee please,” Steve spoke.

“Make it two.” You nodded and the pair continued to place pumpkins around. Leaving the warm drinks on the counter you climbed back up on the stood, faux spider webs in hand.

Leaning over the shelves you stuck the sticky webs up, draping it here and there. You didn’t notice that the stool was slightly uneven making it wobble under your weight.

You felt hands grip your waist, steadying you. “Jesus Sweetheart, don’t you own a step ladder?” Eddie said, sighing as he changed his grip.

“Uh no, haven’t got round to buying one. Thanks for saving me,” you joked, smiling down at him. “Keep me steady?”

“I don’t trust you not to fall off in all honesty.”

“You’re so cruel to me!”

“I know, absolutely horrible. When I bring you pumpkins and fix your car and stop you from falling off a stool, I am the worst.”

“We both know you only do that for Cherry turnovers and coffee.”

“God you caught me.”

You let out a noise of offence, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Hey hey, no need to get handsy Sweetheart, you finish up your decorating. I want to get you back on solid ground.”

You finished putting the webs up, Eddie held your hand as you climbed down, making sure you were careful. “Safe and sound,” you smiled at him.

El called your name, “Yeah Honey?”

“What do you think?” You walked over to see that the counter had been decorated, all of your normal takeaway cups had been swapped for orange and black ones. Little ghosts, jack-o-lanterns and skeletons dotted around.

Bunting and cobwebs were strung up, and the same in the window. All that needed to be done now was the entrance. “Oh my gosh it looks fantastic. You all head off now, please you’ve all done so much. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have too,” Max shrugged, “We wanted to help. You sure you don’t need help in the kitchen?”

“I’m all good, all of you out. Shoo,” you said.

“Hey Halloween party at my house, you’re coming,” Steve said, it was a statement not a question.

“I’ll be there.” The two young girls and Steve headed out, but one person remained. “I’ll stay and help,” he said simply.

“No no, Eddie you should go.”

“I’ll do the outside, you start on the cakes. Don’t tell me no, I’m not budging.”

Before you could say anything, he jogged back to his van. He’s such a pain, you laughed to yourself and walked into the kitchen.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

There were many cakes to decorate, ones as orange pumpkins, others with witches hats, other were little ghosts. You decided to start on a big cake first, pumpkin and cinnamon, it was delicious.

Candy apples were cooling in the fridge as you pulled a big bowl of black icing towards you. Covering the entirety of the cake in it, you began making tiny fondant bats.

It was time consuming, but it’d look great in the end. “Hey Sweetheart, I think I’ve done a pretty good job but you come and correct me if I’m-“ Eddie paused, stopping in the doorway.

He looked at your hands, small icing creatures in them. “Eddie?” He snapped out of his state and looked up at you. “Oh uh sorry, you might just want to check that the front looks good.”

“I’m sure you’ve done an amazing job. Give me two seconds to finish this. There’s a fresh batch of your favourites over there.”

“Oh you are the best person I’ve ever met.”

“You already get free coffee stop being a sweet talker Munson.”

Finishing off the final touches, you spoke to Eddie, “What do you think?”

“I think everyone’s gonna struggle what to pick,” he smiled, coming to stand behind you, looking at your creations.

A timer went off, “Oh my gingerbread.”

“Jesus Sweetheart how much have you made?”

“It’s Halloween it’s bound to be busy, plus this is for then whole week. Then the left overs for the shelter, and I have to make the pumpkin soup!”

You rambled on and on, walking over to the over and getting your gloves. Pulling out the tray you smiled, they were perfect. The second and third tray followed after, all placed to cool. You turned to see Eddie with a slight smirk on his face.

“What?” you asked, shy under his gaze.

“Do you ever rest? The shops closed today, yet you’re working.”

“I have to prep for the week ahead Eddie.”

“You also need to have a break. You’ll over do it.”

“I’m telling you I’m fine.”

“Nope, I’m taking you out. The cakes are basically done, and the soup won’t need to be done in the morning it’s an afternoon food, and I’m assuming you’ve already got it prepped so it could cook overnight.

“Along with that El can decorate the gingerbread when she gets here, and you don’t need to worry about anything to do with displays until morning because Max and you are a great team.”

“Eddie I can’t just leave everything.”

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking you to put yourself first and have a break before you work yourself into the ground.”

You sighed, knowing there was no arguing with him, “I need to put the stuff away or it’ll be no good.”

“I’ll help, what do you need me to do?”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Eddie had drove you to a diner, the pair of you ordering burgers and shakes. “Thank you for doing this,” you smiled at him.

“Thank you for joining me,” he replied, taking a sip out of his chocolate-y drink.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer so tell me to shut up-”

“You can ask me anything, don’t worry,” he said, comforting you. “In the kitchen earlier, when I was decorating the cake. You kinda zoned out, is everything okay?”

He went quiet, but nodded. “I just couldn’t believe how pretty someone could look when they’re baking.” Your face flushed.

“Sweet-talker.”

“Oh you know it,” he winked at you, the waitress smiled at you as she placed your food down. It disappeared when she looked at Eddie.

“Enjoy your meal,” she said through gritted teeth and scurried away. “Strange, did you know her?” you asked Eddie, to which he shook his head, picking up a fry, “How rude, don’t you dare leave a tip!”

“You’re the one who has a thing for tipping.”

“That was one time!”

“It was $70!”

“$65 actually.”

“Oh yeah when you snatched it back,” he laughed. “Oh shush, eat your food.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

You grinned, taking a bite of your burger, humming at how good it was. “I want to expand to this, more warm food I mean. Not just one or two options. A whole menu!”

“I have every faith that you will.”

“I hope so, it’d be so great not to just have a few things. I want everyone to feel like they can have something.”

“You’re very generous.”

“It’s how my Gran raised us.”

“Your Gran brought you and your brother up?”

“Yeah, and my Grandpa, but he passed away.”

“Ah I see. Wayne brought me up, moved in when I was really young.”

“Same with us, wouldn’t change it though.”

“Me neither.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

After paying the bill and saying thank you to the staff you and Eddie headed out. Walking towards his van, the sky was already dark even though it was barely 5pm. “Thank you for this Eddie,” you smiled.

“I told you, thank you for joining me. It was nice.”

“It was,” you shivered, the cool autumn breeze sending a chill up your spine. “You alright?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,”You spoke rubbing your arms.

“You’re gonna freeze,” he said, suddenly sliding his arms out of his jacket. “Eddie no, I’m fine really.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering.” He walked closer to you, and draped the thick leather over your shoulders.

It was warm from him and held his scent, it was lovely. Eddie was lovely. His own arms were now bare, revealing more tattoos and scars. Like those you’d seen on his stomach and chest.

“Sorry,” he said, attempting to cover them. “Why are you apologising?”

“They make some people uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, trust me I have some scars of my own. It’s not an issue, they’re pretty cool, and your tattoos.”

“Thanks Sweetheart.”

“No problem, now can we get in the van, I’m freezing,” you exclaimed, to which Eddie laughed, opening up the door for you.

Yes it may have been cold, but with Eddie around, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : oh i just love them 🥺

Thank you so much for reading 🤍

taglist : @corrodedseraphine @flawiette @witchwolflea @emxxblog @plk-18 @vintagehellfire @Ima1986 @squidscottjeans @eddiesguitarskills

let me know if you want to be added 🤍

[accioprocrastination]

Estranged (part 2/?)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

A/n: fluff, angst, grief

Summary: Rooster and his ex best friend go to dinner

The two of you drive in convoy to the small diner that you spent 90% of your childhood in.

Every time you look in your rearview mirror and see is the broncho he's had since you were 18, you feel a mixture of giddiness and fear.

"Why did I fucking agree to this?" You mutter pulling into the parking lot.

Without giving yourself more time to worry about the uncomfortable reality of this reunion, you walk over to his car and wait for him to clamber out.

You follow him as he walks to your booth - the third one in from the back on the right. As a kid you would always insist on sitting in this exact booth because this is the best location to people watch. Scooting in across from him you wonder if he remembered that or if this is a weird coincidence.

"What's that look for?" he asks eyebrows scrunched together.

"Huh?" You respond, trying to ignore him as you pick up the menu from the table.

"Why bother looking?" He asks eyebrows raising, knowing that you both already know what you're ordering.

"What if something else looks better?" you ask.

"Better than the world's best pancakes, what planet are you on over there Kazansky?" He teases.

You roll your eyes as a waitress starts approaching your table.

She takes your orders all the while giving Bradshaw heart eyes. You watch her walk away and glance between the two of you in your peripheral. She's debating whether he's single. Or whether she can take you.

"So?" He asks expectantly.

"So what?" You respond.

"Tell me everything that has happened since we last spoke." He clarifies.

"I drove here and - " You say and he kicks you playfully under the table to stop you talking.

"You know that's not what I meant!" he interrupts.

"Yeah I know..." You respond unsure of what he actually wants you to say. You haven't spoken to Bradley in years it would feel weird to keep things surface level and weird to be as intimate as you used to be.

"Things haven't been great since the last time we spoke." You admit.

"I'm sorry about your dad. I heard through the grapevine that he's sick again." He says reaching for your hand across the table.

You change the conversation topic back to him, asking "What about you, how have you been?"

"A bit all over the place. Work is great now but it's taken forever to get to that stage. I got married since the last time we spoke - " he starts summarising his life over the last few years.

You don't interrupt him but the thoughts in your head come to a grinding halt and then suddenly torrent your mind to the point that whatever he says next is lost on you.

He got married and didn't invite you to his wedding.

Mr Perfect married someone you've never met.

"How did you meet her?" You ask automatically presuming their gender.

"At a joint birthday party of two pilots I was stationed with a few years back." He responds.

"Cool." You say not bothering to sound less disinterested.

You know you fell out of touch but it hurts that he wouldn't invite you to his wedding.

How could he marry someone you don't even know the name of?

"What about you, are you seeing anyone, married, divorced etc?" He asks.

"You know me Brads, my standards are too high to date people." You respond not telling him that your life is in the exact same place it was last time you spoke, except this time your dad is dying.

"Hahahahaha yeah do you remember when Ryder tried to get you to go out with him?" He questions, bringing an uncontrollable smirk out on your face.

"Stop." You say to him with a giggle. "That was the most embarrassing day of my life it genuinely gives me nightmares thinking about that still! We were literally eleven - surely people have enough common sense not to do that at that age?" You ask giving Bradley a dramatic look that makes him start cackling.

You snigger thinking that no one at that age should have a total lack of self awareness to the point that they think asking someone out via a break dance routine is a good idea.

"He broke his fucking leg doing that and you still said no." Bradley is red from laughing at the memory of you trying to shield behind him while being serenaded.

You both stop laughing as the waitress approaches the table and you order your usuals.

"Shocking choice." Bradley murmurs as you went for the same thing you always go for. You roll your eyes at him, annoyed that he would have to comment on that.

Your phone buzzes on the table between the two of you with a text from Coyote, then seconds later it buzzes with a second text "Hangman". Bradshaw mouths from across the table.

You don't have previews on so all you can see is his name on your screen.

It is quickly followed by an onslaught of other texts.

"Do you want to get that?" Bradley asks.

You shake your head not one of those people who will sit glued to their phone when out with someone else.

"You seem close with Hangman." he probes.

"Yeah." You respond seeing the distain on his face as clear as day. "I take it you're not?"

He huffs.

"He's an idiot in the air and on the ground." Bradley shakes his head.

You open your mouth to call him the idiot when the waitress appears.

"Oh you're a pilot?" the waitress asks placing his food in front of him.

He nods totally oblivious to her advances or completely uninterested.

She's literally put lipstick on since she took our orders.

You're annoyed.

This feels awkward and forced and all you really want to do is pick up your phone and read whatever Jake and Javy are saying.

The waitress comes back to ask if everything is okay with the food.

You've gotta be joking, you think when you see that she's taken off layers to show some skin and has undone a few buttons on her shirt.

"Do you think if we stick around long enough she'll get naked?" you remark.

He raises his eyebrows at you looking completely clueless.

"Who?" he says confused.

"The waitress you dipshit." you say without thinking. "She's been flirting with you all night, you cannot be that oblivious." You add shaking your head.

"You jealous?" he teases.

"In your dreams Bradshaw." you roll your eyes, not admitting that there might be some truth behind that.

Part 1 in case you missed it

Masterlist

[thecutestlittlebunbunfairy]

I think I recalled you saying this was your fave on his latest album 👀 so this one please! 🥰

Hey so I have NO idea where this came from but here it is!

pairing. Irish Mobster!Andy x Reader

wc. ~1400

warnings. Talks of violence, mention of abuse toward reader (not from Andy, abusive ex!Ransom, guns

Thank you so much miss @cocoamoonmalfoy I hope you like it!

The bar was certainly old. The wood paneling had a lifetime of lover’s initials carved in its wood. The red leather padding on the seats cushioned you as you settled in the corner booth, making sure you could keep an eye on the door. Cigarette smoke left a heavy haze over the place, clouding your vision and making you cough at the smell. Probably the last bar in Massachusetts you could smoke in. But the man you were looking for was here, at The Black Rose.

Andrew Barber.  

A waitress came over asking if you wanted a drink. Normally when you drank, it had been fun fruity cocktails with your girl friends. At least until you started dating Ransom. Then you didn’t go much of anywhere. He’s why you were here tonight.

You ordered a rum and coke, figuring that was a standard anywhere, and settled in as much as you could. Not that you had long to wait.

“Well well well… who might you be?” A low voice purred with the hint of an Irish brogue to it. You turned and swallowed as you took him in. Tall, was the glaringly obvious term. So tall you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes and found there were an intense shade of stormy grey. Not many were brave or dumb enough to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure which category you fell into. 

He wore a black peacoat over a navy-blue button up; the top buttons open to reveal the Celtic knot tattoo on his collar bone. You were sure there was even more drawings and designs all over, judging by the designs on his hands, highlighting the silver rings he wore. Including a Claddagh ring. It was similar to the one on your right hand, pointed inward to show you were taken.

Ransom had ripped it off your hand himself to turn it around. Nearly dislocating 3 fingers.

You finally found your voice to tell him your name and he repeated it, making you shiver. It had been a long time since you’d heard your name said so thoughtfully.  

How before I heard it from your mouth My name would always hit my ears As such an awful sound

“Are you…Mr. Barber?” you asked as he settled across from you.

“Please love, call me Andy. Now, what I can do for a little thing like yourself?” The waitress set down your rum and a coke and a whiskey in front of Andy. Even though he’d never ordered one.

“Well, uhm.  I need...” You held the drink tightly in your hands as you considered what you were genuinely about to ask him for. “I need you to take care of someone.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Is it the same person who gave you that shiner?” You touched your hand to your face gently.

That was 2 weeks ago. You’d accidentally burnt dinner. You’d thought it was healed enough that you thought you could cover it up with make up but you in Andy’s line of work, he saw enough of them to know when someone was covering it up.

“Yes.”

You took the photo of Ransom out of your purse. It had been your 3rd date; he’d taken you to a local carnival and won you a teddy bear. 3 months later he trashed the bear and called you stupid for holding on to it. “His name is Ransom Drysdale. I can give you his schedule, whatever you need. I just. I need him gone.” Andy took a long sip of his drink and leaned in close to you.

“You don’t seem like the type to want someone dead, sweetheart.”

“I’ve tried to leave him. I’ve talked to the police. But his family has money. He has connections. So, I thought. If I came to you…” You bit your lip “I don’t have a lot of money. But I have some jewelry I could pawn.” You clenched the golden locket around your neck.

“Your ma give you that?” You nodded, thinking of the woman who’d raised you by herself for 15 years. Andy smiled. “Ain’t that like them? Gifting life to us again.” His voice was low, as if you weren’t meant to here it.

He took the photo and studied it for a minute, then looked back you. There was something about his eyes. There was a burning fire behind them but a concerned sadness weighed down his face.

“He did something bad. Really bad, didn’t he?” You paused. He looked at you as if he had all the time in the world to wait for you to answer. You knew you had nothing left to lose, so you took a long sip off your drink to muster your courage.

 “A few days ago, I tried to take care of him myself. I bought a gun, figuring the next time he came at me, I could threaten him or it would be self defense. Instead, I came home and it was sitting on the table. He told me if I did something like that again.  He’d use it on me.”

Andy was silent for quite a long time and you couldn’t quite read him.

“You can keep the locket, sweetheart. Consider this a pro-bono job.” Your jaw dropped.

“But why would you do that?”  Andy looked away from you, then reached over to take your hand and you were shocked to find how warm his was.

“I’ve helped a lot of women over the years. Usually, I help them get away from assholes, get them set up in a new place with a whole new life. And I’d always take care of the ex as a bonus. But you. You went the direct route. Asked me to kill the bastard myself. You were even willing to do it yourself. You have a sense of self perseverance. and that makes you so brave and beautiful.”

To share the space with simple living things Infinitely suffering But fighting off like all creation The absence of itself

The way Andy spoke to you made your heart feel lighter than it had in such a long time. Not chained down. Not to mention the way he stared at you as if he wanted to cherish every moment with you.

“Plus, there is something I want.” Andy said. You clenched your hands, apprehensive at words but he smirked, playfully. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I know the owner and chef of a fantastic place in the North End.”

This life lived mostly underground Unknowing either sight nor sound ‘Til reaching up for sunlight.

 You felt like Andy was holding out his hand to pull you up out of the dark place Ransom was keeping you in for so long. You couldn’t put your finger on it but Andy made you feel like you could trust him. He made you feel safe. Even if this was only the first time you’d met him.

“Deal.” Andy lifted his drink and you tapped it against his, both finishing off your drinks.

“Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight? Do you need a ride?” Andy asked, his voice full of concern. “Might I suggest you stay at my place until after tomorrow night? Then I can help arrange a safe place to stay.” Or convince you to stay longer, Andy thought to himself.

“Stay, at your place? Isn’t’ that a little bold?” your face heated up at the implications.

“Not at all, love. I’ve got plenty of bedrooms. Though mine is the comfiest.” Your voice caught in your throat And you felt the need to go splash some cold water on your face.

While you excused yourself to the restroom Andy pulled out his phone, calling Ari. His right hand.

“Hey Levinson, I need you to take Rogers and Barnes on a special assignment. I finally found that shitstain Drysdale who’s been creeping in on our area. And he put his hands on my girl.” He smiled as he thought back to how you’d made him feel when he’d seen you for the first time. Like a beautiful ray of sunshine had come into his life, but not without some thunder.

 But you spoke some quick new music That went so far to soothe this soul As it was and ever shall be

“Get back to me when you have him. But I got some special plans, so he needs to at least be breathing. Even if it’s laboriously. In the meantime, I gotta call Vincenzo and make a reservation.”  

[no-damsel]

Just friends

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter two

Becoming impatient, you bounce your knee while waiting for Voight to arrive. Adam called his boss after you finished breakfast and briefly explained the situation. Voight agreed right away and was currently driving over with Antonio.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

Adam lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, the dirty dishes and mountain of laundry really add to the decor.”

Feeling restless, you stand up and walk around his living room. Adam suggested you meet at his apartment; that way, if anyone saw you with him, you could easily play it off as a hookup. You smile at the picture pinned to his fridge of him and a brunette woman posing. “She has a beautiful smile; who is she?”

“That’s my girl, Kim.”

“Where did you guys meet?”

Adam nervously scratches at his beard and says, “Work. She's a cop in my district.”

Laughing, you toss the dish towel hanging beside you at him. “I thought you’d know better than to get involved with someone you work with.”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s your dad and Eli doing?”

You gulp down a mouthful of cold water before pulling at the label covering the bottle. “Eli’s fine—great, actually—and my dad's just the same. Having a kid in the house again is good for him.”

Adam gives you a sympathetic look but doesn’t ask any more questions. You make small talk until Adam gets a text. “That’s them here," he says as he walks towards his door, ready to open it, saying, “Just remember not to be nervous. Hank and Antonio can be a little intense and dark at times, but they are good guys, and if you want, I can do most of the talking for you.”

You struggled to hold back a laugh. Adam was being so sweet and protective, and yet he was in for a surprise. Antonio walks in and gives you a polite nod before greeting his colleague. Hank walks in with a serious expression on his face that softens the moment his eyes land on you.

Adam clears his throat. “Boss, this is—”

“Detective Love,” Hank pulls you in for a hug. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

“You too, Hank; it’s been a while.”

“Don’t drink anything the brunette waitress called Beck gives you; it’s spiked. All the rooms have hidden cameras. Be safe.” Antonio holds the note you placed in the uniforms between his fingers, “so there’s no safe space to talk inside? What about the staff changing rooms or bathrooms?”

“All bathrooms have cameras facing the sinks, and there are hearing devices in the changing rooms.”

Hank nods. “Before we go any further with this, we all agree that nothing that’s said leaves this room.”

All three of you nod.

“Now that’s sorted, Viola, tell me how you got into a club owned by Hector Vasquez; last I heard you were a detective in robbery-homicide.”

“I volunteered when I heard Nat Dickson was back in town.”

“I’m guessing since you’ve been undercover for a while, Nat’s still out there.”

Rage boils deep within your veins; “bastards have been keeping a low profile.”

“Who’s Nat Dickson? I don’t think I’ve heard that name before,” Antonio says.

“He’s wanted for human trafficking in New York. Viola, you should have come to me when you heard he was back in Chicago.”

“You were in prison.”

“Fair enough, but I’m here now.” He turns to face Adam and Antonio and says, “Nat Dickson is scum and extremely dangerous. Trust me, if you’re ever in a run-in with him, do your best to shoot and ask questions later.”

“Nat is part owner of the club, but his share is under a fake name, Lewis Archer. Jasper gives him a large amount of cash along with a bag of guns once a month, but the date, time, and location are always different.”

Adam’s eyes widened with interest as he looked through some paperwork: “The club is full of drugs and has been busted twice in the last month, but only one arrest has been made, and that was for public intoxication.”

“Jasper’s got eyes on the inside.”

Anger flashes behind Antonio’s eyes. “You're telling us a dirty cop is ripping him off for police raids?”

“Dirty as they come,” you say, clicking your tongue. “But I’ve no idea who or how many cops are mixed up in this.”

“Is Nat still selling girls?

You chew on your bottom lip as Hank drives you back to the other side of town, where your car is parked. “If he is, he’s doing it in another location.”

“Tell me about this Beck who spikes people’s drinks.”

“Every so often she spikes men with sleeping pills, takes them into a back room with the promise of having sex, and robs them. She takes everything, from wallets to wedding rings. I’ve tried reporting her anonymously twice before, and each time it’s bounced.”

“Sounds like there’s more than one dirty cop involved. I’m going to have Ruzek stay on the bad-dope trail while you continue gathering evidence of Beck drugging and robbing men; I have a feeling they are contacted.”

“And Dawson?”

Hank turns a sharp corner, the tension in his shoulders obvious. “I want you to stay close to Antonio. Don’t get me wrong, Adam’s a good cop, but Antonio has been deep undercover before, so he knows what it’s like. Plus, he’ll watch your back without getting emotional.”

“I understand and thank you.”

“It’s what my team does; we watch out for each other.” He lets out a small chuckle and says, “I also have an ulterior motive.”

“What’s that?”

“Once this case is closed, I want you in intelligence.”

[ibuprofenking]

no grave can hold my body down (i’ll crawl home to her)

an avatrice fic

Beatrice is walking home when she feels it. That prickle - a burning at the nape of her neck, making the hairs stand up.

Unmistakably, she knows. Someone is following her. Watching her. The sun has disappeared and she knows they are lurking in the shadows left behind.

She doesn’t react, immediately. She keeps walking, maintains her pace. Doesn’t let on that she knows. Then, with well-trained speed, she whips around and flings the stranger to the ground before they can react. They hit the ground with a quiet “oof.”

She’s about to start questioning them when her eyes actually settle on the face in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat as she takes in soft brown eyes, a smile despite the wheezing.

“Ava.” The name leaves her like she’s been punched in the gut, and she may as well have been for how she’s feeling.

“I should have known better than to try and sneak up on you,” Ava half-laughs, half-coughs.

Beatrice grabs Ava’s wrists, hauling her up and into a crushing embrace. She puts one hand to the back of Ava’s head, the other clutching at the soft red fabric of her hoodie. Beneath it she feels the gentle heat of the Halo.

Ava’s hair feels soft and clean, her body solid, sturdy. She’s alive. She’s okay. Beatrice can’t hardly believe it.

“Are you real?” she chokes.

“I think so,” Ava says.

They stand that way for a while, holding each other. They’re in the middle of the sidewalk but Beatrice doesn’t care. She would stay like this forever if she had her way.

Eventually, Ava pulls away. “Let me look at you,” she implores. She stares at Beatrice, taking in her jeans and loose hair. She reaches to tuck the strands behind Beatrice’s ear.

“Your hair looks nice,” she says. She runs her fingers over the blue streak. “I like this. You rebel.”

Ava, for her part, looks remarkably unchanged. She’s been gone for six months and three days, and Beatrice can’t say how long that might have been on the other side. Yet Ava’s face is the same, her hair the exact same length it was when she -

When she.

Beatrice can’t think it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she demands. “Why were you skulking in the shadows like some sort of murderer? I could have seriously injured you.”

Ava chuckles. “I can take it.” And then, almost guiltily, “I wasn’t ready for you to see me yet.”

There’s something hidden in the words, something akin to shame. Beatrice can feel it, but decides to save her questions for later.

“Are you staying somewhere?” she asks instead. There’s a duffel bag discarded on the ground from when Beatrice had flung her down.

“Nope,” Ava says. “Just got here. You know, you’re a hard woman to find.”

Beatrice cracks a small smile at that. “That’s sort of the point.”

—

Beatrice likes her apartment. It’s humble. Comfortable. But now, with Ava standing in it, it feels impossibly small. Lacking. Unworthy of the way Ava’s spirit fills the space.

“This is cute,” Ava says. “Cozy.”

“It’s adequate,” Beatrice says, and she’s surprised to find herself feeling shy.

“Reminds me of Switzerland,” Ava says fondly, running her hand along the coffee table. This comparison immediately lifts Beatrice up, and she doesn’t feel quite so embarrassed anymore.

“It’s cheap,” she says. “Good for a waitress’ pay.”

“A waitress?”

“Try not to look so surprised,” Beatrice says wryly. Ava shakes her head.

“No, I just - it’s just different from anything I’ve ever seen you do, that’s all.”

“The pay itself is… lacking, but the tips are good. The regulars are nice. It’s decent work.”

Ava smirks. “I bet the customers go crazy over your accent.”

Beatrice laughs at that, mostly because it’s true. She’s sure it’s at least 90% of why she got the job.

“Americans are certainly unused to accents other than their own,” she agrees.

“I’ll admit I never pictured you in America,” Ava said. “Even with how well-traveled you are. Definitely not the midwest, either.”

It was to get as far away from the memory of you as I could, Beatrice doesn’t say.

“I’d have pictured you in like, Prague or something. Maybe even back in Switzerland,” Ava continues.

“I wanted to try something new,” Beatrice says instead of the truth.

Ava nods. They stand in silence for a moment.

“Um,” Ava says. “Thanks for… bringing me here. I can sleep on the couch.”

“Absolutely not!” Beatrice shocks both Ava and herself with the intensity in her voice. She clears her throat.

“I only just got you back,” she says. “I’m not letting you leave my sight for even a moment.” She blinks as she feels tears well up, then turns away, ashamed.

“Bea,” Ava says quietly, and the nickname and the tender tone of Ava’s voice tear something open in her, something she’s spent the last six months working so hard to close.

She begins to cry.

Ava closes the distance between them swiftly and pulls Beatrice close, and Beatrice clings to her with the desperation of a drowning woman.

Ava just holds her, rocking her gently and stroking her hair. Beatrice feels a bit like an idiot. Ava is the one who nearly died, who spent God knows how long in an unfamiliar and likely hostile place. And yet here Beatrice is, falling apart.

And here Ava is, comforting her.

Beneath her hands Beatrice feels the Halo heat up slightly with whatever emotions Ava is feeling and she finds it calming, grounding. A reminder that Ava is here, that she is real.

After she’s calmed down enough to stop choking on her own tears, Beatrice mumbles a defeated “Sorry.” She tries to pull back.

“Uh-uh,” says Ava, redoubling her grip on Beatrice. “You have nothing to apologize for. Okay? So don’t even start. We’ll stay here as long as you need.”

Beatrice relaxes into Ava at this, and Ava rubs circles into her shoulder.

After a little while, Ava sighs. “Okay, I know what I said, but I kind of have to pee.”

Beatrice snorts out a laugh, ungraceful and sloppy. They release each other. Beatrice drags her hands over her face, scrubbing, hoping to rub away any signs of weakness as Ava disappears into the tiny bathroom.

She has to be strong. For Ava.

—

“How long was it for you?”

They lay together on top of the blankets, facing one another. Beatrice lays on her side with her hands tucked beneath her pillow, and Ava lays on her back, hands folded over her stomach, head turned to face Beatrice.

Ava turns her head to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ava -“

“I’m not there,” Ava says firmly, as if trying to convince herself. “I’m here. That’s what I wanna focus on.”

“All right,” says Beatrice carefully. She studies Ava’s profile, searching for any sign of what she might be feeling, but to her dismay Ava’s face is a stoney mask. This is not normal for a woman who usually wears her heart on her sleeve.

“You said earlier you weren’t ready for me to see you,” she probes instead. “Why?”

Ava thinks for a moment.

“I know I look… the same,” she says. “On the outside. But inside I’m… I’m not the same, Bea.” Ava looks at Beatrice then, something in her expression begging her to understand.

Beatrice does.

“I’m not the same, either,” she says.

“I think that goes without saying,” Ava says lightly, and for the second time tonight she reaches out to stroke the dyed blue streak in Beatrice’s hair. She holds the strands between her fingers, admiring them like one might a fine jewel.

“I’m going through a bit of a wild child phase, as you can see,” Beatrice says with a smirk.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Ava says. “What’s next? A tattoo?”

“Maybe,” Beatrice says scandalously, and Ava raises her eyebrows in mock shock. They both giggle.

After a pause, Beatrice asks, “Why didn’t you age, do you think?”

Ava shrugs. “Jillian thinks it might be something to do with the Halo.”

Beatrice props herself up on her elbow. “You saw Jillian?”

“I saw everyone,” Ava says simply.

A flash of anger strikes through Beatrice. “And they didn’t think to send me word that you were back?!”

Ava regards her calmly. “Well, you didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address. Or a phone number.”

As quickly as it ignited, the anger fizzles out, and Beatrice flops back down onto the bed. “Oh,” is all she says.

Ava is smiling fondly. “Why did you leave? I thought you loved being a Sister Warrior.”

Beatrice takes a breath. “I… I did.”

“So?”

Beatrice stares down at the sheets, studying the floral pattern printed there, so she doesn’t have to look at Ava.

“It was… too painful.”

“Oh.”

“I thought you were lost forever,” Beatrice whispers.

Ava huffs out a breath, puffing out her cheeks. “Honestly? Me too.”

Later that night, as Ava sleeps soundly beneath the covers, Beatrice quietly kneels beside the bed, and for the first time since Ava disappeared, she prays.

Mostly just to say thank you.

—

The bed is shaking.

Beatrice wakes confused and groggy. For a brief moment she finds herself wondering if earth quakes are common in Michigan.

She searches the room. The bedside clock reads midnight. The room itself seems still. Finally, her eyes land on Ava, and that’s when she realizes.

Beside her, covers thrown off, Ava shakes. She trembles so hard that Beatrice fears she might be seizing. But beneath her eyelids Ava’s eyes roll, and she’s murmuring something incomprehensible in a broken voice.

Beatrice leaps to her feet and rushes around the bed to kneel next to Ava.

“Ava,” she says firmly. “Wake up.”

Ava shows no signs of hearing her. Instead, her hands come up and she presses her palms hard against her closed eyes. The murmuring becomes more clear.

“It’s so bright,” she’s saying desperately. “It’s so bright.”

“Ava,” Beatrice tries again, with more urgency. “You’re dreaming.”

She reaches out and grabs Ava’s wrists. They’re slick with sweat. She pulls Ava’s hands away from her face. Immediately Ava’s eyes fly open and a single, brief howl of fear rips from her throat. Her eyes look around wildly.

“It’s okay!” Beatrice says immediately. She keeps her grip on Ava’s wrists. “It’s okay. It’s just me. You were dreaming.”

Ava sucks in big gulps of air like she’s been holding her breath. She stares wide-eyed at the ceiling for several long seconds as if trying to remember herself, before she finally turns her gaze to Beatrice.

“Bea?” She sounds very small, and a fierce tenderness claws at Beatrice’s chest.

“Yes, it’s me,” she says softly, releasing Ava’s wrists to instead cup her face. She feels hot, clammy. “You’re safe.”

Ava’s still shaking, but the tremors are smaller now.

“Are you all right?” Beatrice asks, smoothing wet hair from Ava’s forehead.

Rather than answering, Ava asks “Did I yell?”

Beatrice grimaces sympathetically. “Yes.”

Having come to her senses, Ava pushes herself to a sitting position. “I’m sure the neighbors will complain,” she says dully.

“Let them,” Beatrice says.

Ava covers her face with her hands and releases a weary sigh. Beatrice squeezes her knee.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Ava laughs bitterly. “Definitely not.”

“What would help?”

She thinks on it for a moment. Then, “A shower. I’m gross and sweaty.”

That, Beatrice can handle. “I’ll start the water for you,” she says immediately, eager to do something, anything helpful.

When she returns from the bathroom she finds Ava still seated on the bed, but now with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them and her head resting atop them. She smiles weakly at Beatrice’s return, but it doesn’t quite light up her eyes.

“It’s warming up,” she says. “Could I… accompany you?”

Ava smirks a little. She looks exhausted. “Very forward, Sister Beatrice.”

Beatrice rolls her eyes. “Just to the bathroom. And I’m not a nun anymore.”

“Details,” Ava waves her off before slipping off the bed. She reaches for Beatrice’s hand, and Beatrice gives it willingly.

Once they’re standing in the bathroom, Ava looks a bit lost, like she’s not quite sure where to start. Her fragility gives Beatrice courage.

Beatrice fingers the edges of Ava’s t-shirt. “May I?” she asks softly. Ava nods.

“Arms up, then,” says Beatrice, all business, and Ava complies. Beatrice pulls the shirt up and over Ava’s head, tousling her hair. They move on to the sweatpants. Beatrice gently tugs them to the floor, and Ava steps out of them.

Beatrice tried not to look, but her eyes are greedy and they slide over Ava’s body with a sort of hunger. Smooth skin, dimples at her hips.

She nearly shakes her head. Now’s not the time.

“I think… I can handle it from here,” Ava says. Beatrice hopes she hasn’t noticed her voracious gaze.

“Yes, right.” Beatrice nods and turns to leave the bathroom.

Ava grabs her wrist. “Wait,” she says, then, shyly, “Stay?”

Beatrice smiles. “Of course.”

As Ava cleans herself up, Beatrice sits on the closed toilet, head in her hands. She’s shaken, she’ll admit that to herself. She can’t imagine what horrors haunt Ava. She’s never seen a nightmare as severe as that. If she’s being honest, it scares her.

And this feeling in her stomach… this evil, sinful feeling. Her best friend is suffering and all she can think about is -

kissing grabbing stroking

Well.

When Ava steps out of the shower, Beatrice is waiting with a fluffy white towel. Beatrice wraps her up and pretends the towel is a shield against everything bad in the world.

“I’m going to make tea,” she murmurs. “Will you be all right?”

Ava’s face is flushed from the hot water and her eyes are a bit brighter. She looks a bit more herself. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Um… thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Beatrice says and means it, with her whole being.

When she enters the bedroom with two steaming mugs in hand, Ava has already returned to sleep, sprawled on her stomach, the side of her face smushed into the pillow.

Beatrice finds herself smiling in earnest. Ava looks much more peaceful now, her face unlined and unconcerned. Beatrice takes a sip of tea before placing both mugs on the nightstand.

She carefully climbs into bed beside Ava then pulls the covers over both of them.

For a moment she lays on her back, arms at her chest, afraid to move or touch Ava for fear of waking her. Finally, she gathers courage and rolls onto her side, reaching out to gently stroke Ava’s wet hair.

Without opening her eyes, Ava reaches out to grab her hand. Beatrice’s heart leaps to her throat, and she’s about to apologize for waking her when Ava intertwines their fingers. She settles again almost immediately.

They both sleep soundly the rest of the night.

—

When Beatrice hears the bell above the door ding, she thinks nothing of it.

When she sees Ava sitting in her section, she bristles.

“I thought I told you to stay home and out of sight,” she says quietly, through her teeth, setting down a menu and silverware to keep up appearances.

“I got bored,” Ava says, lower lip jutting out pitifully. “Plus, we need to go grocery shopping. We’re out of, like, everything.”

“I’ll go grocery shopping,” corrects Beatrice. “You will lay low like I told you. We don’t know what threats are still out there, who still covets the Halo -“

In front of her Ava has her nose in the menu, and for a minute Beatrice thinks she’s not even listening before Ava says “You know what I covet? The All-American Breakfast.”

Beatrice sighs. Stares into the middle distance. Questions her life choices. Then, she raises pen and pad.

“What sort of toast?”

Later, as Ava shovels forkfuls of greasy American breakfast into her mouth like she hasn’t eaten in days, Beatrice watches from behind the counter, annoyance and fondness blooming inside her.

“Your girlfriend is cute,” says Layla, one of the other waitresses. Beatrice feels the heat rising to her face almost immediately.

“What?” she asks dumbly, straightening up. Layla gestures to Ava.

“Oh!” Beatrice says quickly. “Oh, er, she’s - we’re not - well…”

If you tell a girl you love her before she disappears into an other-worldly void, does that make her your girlfriend? What if she maybe didn’t hear you? What if she’s been gone for potentially centuries?

“It’s complicated,” offers up Layla. “I get it.” She winks and goes to take care of her tables.

Complicated. Beatrice sighs. Across the diner Ava drinks her orange juice like it’s a competition.

Complicated doesn’t begin to cover it.

—

In the end, Ava always gets her way.

“But nowhere is safer for me than with you!” she’d pouted.

“You’re like a child,” Beatrice had complained.

And that’s how she’d ended up here, in the grocery store, trying to decide between what seems to be a million identical yogurt options, while Ava takes a running start with the buggy before hopping onto it and letting it carry her several feet.

“I’m begging you to behave,” Beatrice says.

“That’s like asking a fish not to swim,” Ava says.

American supermarkets are overwhelming. Colors, options, smells, sounds. It’s nearly too much for Beatrice. For Ava, it seems to be a land of wonder.

Every few minutes she disappears and then re-emerges from the aisles with a new cookie or sweet that Beatrice tells her to put back. Eventually they compromise on a pack of Oreos.

“You are like a prison warden,” Ava declares.

“I am afraid to see what you are like with sugar in your system,” Beatrice says honestly. Ava just grins.

That night Beatrice teaches Ava to make spaghetti. There’s a lot Ava doesn’t know how to do. Tie shoes. Hold a pencil properly. Make literally any meal that involves the oven or stove. Or even the microwave.

When Beatrice teaches her Ava becomes so serious, eyes intense. Beatrice knows she’s doing her best to soak in every detail. If there’s one thing Ava hates it’s feeling helpless, like she’s back in that bed, wasting away. Beatrice wishes she could tell her she doesn’t need to be independent to be valuable, that paralyzed or not, she is worth it.

She lets Ava stir the noodles. “You have to keep them moving, or they’ll clump together.” Ava treats this task like it is life or death, never taking her eyes off the pot.

When they eat, Ava has a satisfied look on her face, a sort of pride.

“Damn, I’m a good cook,” Ava says around a mouthful of pasta.

“Language,” Beatrice says reflexively, and then “And I’m the chef here.”

“Ohhh,” Ava says. “My bad, Gordon Ramsey.”

Beatrice frowns.

“Stop,” Ava says before Beatrice can open her mouth. “Do not tell me you don’t know who Gordon Ramsey is.”

She doesn’t, and Ava deems this a tragedy, and that’s how they end up huddled on the couch watching Kitchen Nightmares on the laptop. Beatrice is sure it’s all scripted, or at least dramatized for effect, but it brings Ava such joy that she keeps that to herself.

“It’s fuckin’ raw!” Ava whisper-shouts in the worst British accent Beatrice has ever heard.

“That’s terrible,” she laughs.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”

Beatrice pauses. Then, cupping her hands around her mouth she does her best Gordon Ramsey impression: “It’s fucking raw!”

The ensuing giggles from Ava are worth it.

—

Beatrice gets home from a shift and Ava isn’t there.

The apartment is small and it takes her no time at all to realize it’s empty.

“Ava?” she calls pointlessly, unsurprised when she gets no answer but panicking nonetheless. She looks in the bedroom. Empty. The bathroom. Empty. She even pulls back the curtain on the shower, but of course, it’s also empty.

She’s gone, she thinks. She’s gone, I left her alone and something happened. Something happened and I wasn’t here.

She doesn’t know what to do. Years of training, of experience in the field, and this is what freezes her. Her heart’s become a fist, clenching tighter and tighter and she’s finding it hard to breathe. The air begins to buzz like a downed electrical wire.

Once again, she waited too long to say I love you.

She sits heavily on the sagging couch, mostly because if she doesn’t she fears she might crumple to the floor. Her breaths come in short, harsh gasps. She feels such dread in her gut she might throw up.

She doesn’t hear the door open for the rushing in her ears. She doesn’t register anything, head in her hands, until she feels gentle pressure on her shoulders. She snaps her head up.

Before her kneels Ava, sweet brown eyes wide and scared. The image of her is fuzzy, as if being viewed on an old VHS tape. She’s saying something, but it sounds like she’s underwater.

Beatrice’s body reacts without her permission and she throws her arms around Ava. She hears someone crying and realizes with a jolt that it’s her.

“Bea,” Ava is murmuring, lips pressed to Beatrice’s hair. “Bea, please try to breathe. Slowly, okay? In -“ she demonstrates by sucking in her own deep breath - “and out.” Ava demonstrates again, breath against Beatrice’s ear.

Beatrice can hear again, and that’s a start. She breathes, like Ava’s telling her to, and slowly but surely she feels less like she’s about to die and more like she’s been submerged in molasses, limbs heavy and shaky.

When Ava senses that Beatrice has calmed down some, she pulls back. Ava cups Beatrice’s face in both of her hands and traces the tear tracks with her thumbs. She’s looking at Beatrice with something indescribable but so palpable that Beatrice feels she might start crying again.

“What happened?” Ava asks softly. For a moment Beatrice forgets how to speak, jaw working uselessly. Then, in a whisper, she manages “You were gone.”

Something in Ava’s face breaks open, realization and sadness and guilt all washing over her at once.

“I’m so sorry,” Ava says. “I went for a walk, I was feeling cooped up and - I thought I’d be back before you got home but -“

“I love you,” Beatrice interrupts in a rush. That makes Ava’s mouth slam shut in surprise.

Beatrice continues, “I said it back, when you went through the Arq. I don’t think you heard. I’ve been waiting for the… for the right moment to bring it up. I thought you were gone and I’d taken too long to say it, again.”

Ava doesn’t say anything for so long that Beatrice begins to regret her entire existence. Needing to fill the silence, she says “I know it’s probably been… a very long time for you, and you might not have the same feelings anymore. I get that. I just wanted -“

Now Ava looks affronted. “What?”

“I only mean, it’s all right if… if you don’t feel the same anymore.”

It’s not, but Beatrice would never dream of putting that kind of pressure on Ava. She wants to give her space, and understanding.

“Bea…” Ava starts, and she’s looking down and Beatrice thinks, here it comes, she’s going to let you down nicely.

“Of course I still love you,” is what Ava says instead. At first, Beatrice doesn’t register the words.

“Really?” she asks, and hates how pitiful she sounds.

Ava laughs, sad and watery. Beatrice realizes she’s crying, too. “You idiot. You… you absolute dingus.” This is a word Beatrice has never been called before.

“Hang on -“ Beatrice starts, confused but offended.

“It’s cheesy,” Ava says, barreling over Beatrice’s protests with no regard. “But… thinking of you… sometimes that was all that could get me through. Thinking about getting home to you.”

Beatrice can’t say anything around the lump forming in her throat.

“It was… bad, over there,” Ava says vaguely, but Beatrice sees the shadow of pain cross her face. “For a while I just… wandered. It was hot, and so, so bright… I healed, and I couldn’t starve or die of thirst, but I could still feel hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Reya either didn’t know I was there or didn’t care. But… thinking about you… that’s what kept me sane.”

Beatrice’s mind races at this information. Distantly she wonders exactly how long “a while” is. Tries to process the idea of Ava, lost and scared and alone, for potential years.

Ava misreads her silence. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “I know it’s dumb -“

Beatrice cuts her off with a kiss. It’s clumsy, and hot, and desperate, and so absolutely divine.

Beatrice thinks there’s no way heaven could compare to this.

When they pull back from each other, Beatrice finds Ava’s hand tangled in her hair, and her own hands are on either side of Ava’s neck. She doesn’t remember putting them there. It is as if her body reacted on instinct, as if her hands had longed on their own to settle in that crook between jaw and shoulder.

“I think,” Ava says, breathless, flushed, “that we might both be idiots.”

“I believe you may be right,” Beatrice agrees.

They kiss again.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter One (Part 3)

I am sitting in a café on Patrick street with a sketchbook on the table. Fintan, the manager, has provided a free coffee while I work, remembering the way I like my cappuccinos without any chocolate on top, and apologises for the latte art when he carries it down to the table. 

“These new waitresses.” He says to me quietly. “They can’t do those wee hearts and leaves the same way that you could.” Watching them scurry around in their aprons makes me feel wise and important, like I know something that they haven’t learned. I’ve been here, I’ve worked this shift and I survived it, and they will too, they just don’t know it yet. I go back to my sketchbook. 

I can’t decide which design I like best. One says “Life is better with good coffee” in a looping font, and the other says “Let’s take a coffee break!” In this retro cartoonish style. It’s not usually the kind of art I would make, and I would be embarrassed to tell anyone from college that I’m doing something like this, but I privately enjoy the process. Fintan says he likes both designs, and I can choose whichever I want, so I go with the second. I finish my coffee and then start drawing the outline with white liquid chalk pens. 

There’s a young man sitting near the window who’s been watching me work for a while, and I’ve been pretending not to notice him. Perhaps I want him to think that he’s being more subtle than he is so as not to make him embarrassed. Or perhaps I’m afraid that if I look him in the eye he might take it as a signal to come over and talk to me. I don’t look, but eventually he comes over anyway. 

“Hi there, I was just watching you work over there, you’re doing a nice job.”

I glance up at him from the floor. He’s not from Offaly, he doesn’t have the right accent. Perhaps he’s from somewhere up north. He doesn’t look like he’s from here either, as he’s bravely chosen to step out in a pair of slip-on Vans and an oversized beanie hat, even though it’s about nineteen degrees this afternoon. I want to ask him is his head not boiling, but I just thank him for his compliment instead. 

“I’ve never seen someone actually doing this kind of work before.” He continues. “It’s always just kind of there one day, like, poof.” He does a hand gesture like clouds of smoke have burst from his palms. ‘I’m just a bit interested by what you’re doing, and even more by the fact that you’re doing it in reverse.”

“Yeah I never anticipated that it’d be so difficult to write words backwards. I suppose now I’m thinking that I should have done a sketch on the outside of the window first and then rubbed it off later.”

“I see what you mean.” He rocks on his heels with hands in his pockets. “Would you like me to get a coffee for you to drink while you work? Might keep the energy up and the head working.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, but actually the manager is keeping me fed and watered today, so you’d only be wasting money on me.”

“I see.” He pauses like he’s trying to think of something else to say. “My name is Geoff, by the way.” 

“Evelyn.” I say back, not really sure why I felt the need to go with my full name, like it’s a protective shield against him. Against Geoff, the very nice man who’s not doing anything wrong. I have a distant thought that I’m probably still a bit fucked in the head since Dean, and then I quickly try to stamp that thought out and think about something else. 

“That’s a nice, old fashioned name.” He comments. “You don’t meet a lot of Evelyns around the place anymore.”

“No, I suppose it’s a bit granny-ish. It’s actually an old family name, I don’t know if I like it that much really.”

“I like it.” He insists. “It’s very pretty.” And so are you seems to hang in the air after he speaks. I turn back to what I’m doing, rubbing out the crooked “O” I’ve drawn with some soapy water and going in for another attempt at it. 

“Are you from around here?” He wants to know. 

“Yeah, I am. But I don’t really live here anymore. I go to college in Dublin so I won’t be around much after this month.”

“Ah cool. I’m not from here either. I’m from up in Monaghan.”

“Miles away.”

“Yeah. I actually work here now, but I’m up and down to Dublin the whole time. Have to pass through on the bus to get home, sure.”

“That’s the thing about Dublin.” I say. “Everyone has to pass through it, against their will usually, I imagine.” “Yes, the horrors of Busaras station. I know it so well.” Geoff laughs. “Here, I’ll leave you to work, but if you change your mind about the coffee, give me a shout.”

I smile, and he goes back to where he was sitting. I don’t look in his direction once, but I feel his eyes on me the whole time. 

About half an hour later he leaves, and as he does he quickly, awkwardly hands me a folded piece of paper. I look at it in surprise. “Oh.”

“Nice to meet you.” He says, blushing, and dashes out the door. I leave the note there for ages. I finish doing the window first, and then I clean up my workspace and wipe the floor after me. Then, when there’s nothing else to do, I take it and fold it open.

Hello Evelyn, 

Just a note to say that you’re completely gorgeous. 

I’d love to meet you in Dublin sometime and buy you that coffee. 

Geoff (From Monaghan)

His phone number is scrawled at the bottom.

I take the note along with all of the kitchen roll I used to wipe down the window and toss it all into the bin in one go. Then Fintan tells me he likes what I’ve done and hands me fifty euro from the cash register. I walk away with a small, satisfied smile on my face, knowing that now I can say I’m a real artist. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[final-girl96]

STOLEN HEARTS CHAPTER THREE

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April 19, 1984

I scoffed and pulled the leftover chinese out. "He was fucking late and we didn't even do any studying. But I'm meeting him at the diner on Saturday at one. So I won't be home until sometime in the evening." He nodded his head, "Are you sure you're okay with tutoring him? You seem pretty upset." I waved him off, "I'm fine, dad. He's just full of himself and so fucking annoying. He goes through girls like their fucking skittles or something. One after the other!" I started to rant.

"And none of them will admit that they've been with because that would mean social suicide for them. I'm admitting they had sex with the freak if Hawkins would be the end of their social life forever!" Dad held up his hand stopping my word vomit. "The freak of Hawkins? Why do they call him that?" He asked. I sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "Because he's a metal head and plays DnD and is in a band," I said.

He nodded his head and hummed. "So because he dresses differently and listens to metal and plays a game he's a freak? This town has not changed one fucking bit." He shook his head and I sighed. "Just so you know I've never called him that. I've never judged him for that. I only judge him for the way he thinks he's the god of sex and how cocky he is and how full of himself he can be. And he's mean to people too! And–"

Dad held up his hand again. "Okay, sweetheart, I get it. You don't like the kid…wait did you say he's in a band?" I raised my eyebrow. "You're just now realizing I said he was in a band?" I asked. "I don't like it. I don't want you tutoring him or being near him." I started laughing, "oh, my god, dad! I don't plan on doing anything with him. I'm going to make sure he passes the next two tests and the final and be done with him. I am not interested in Eddie fucking Munson."

April 21, 1984

"Getting ready to go meet that boy? The boy who also happens to be in a band and can't keep his dick in his pants." I choked on the water I was drinking and looked at my dad. I patted my chest to try and help my coughing fit. "Jesus, dad! His name is Eddie and I have to meet him in half an hour…at the diner…where there will be other people."

I left the kitchen and went upstairs to get ready to leave. After getting all my stuff together I headed for the front door. "I'll take you." I turned around and shook my head. "Absolutely not! Don't you have a new album to work on? Aren't the other guys going to be here?" I asked. "They can wait." I walked over to him, kissing his cheek and chuckling. "I'll be fine, dad. Don't worry I won't let the big bad boy who's in a band corrupt me."

When I got to the diner I was surprised to see Eddie already there. What I wasn't surprised about was that he was making out with some girl in the corner back the hall where the bathrooms were. I only knew he was there when I saw his van parked out front. When I walked in I didn't see him until I sat at a table in the back where I could see down that same hall. It wasn't hard to tell it was him, especially with the hair and the big Dio patch he sewed on the back of his demi vest.

I thought about going over and interrupting them but decided against it. Instead I just got my stuff out and waited. "What can I get ya, sugar?" I looked up at the waitress standing beside the table. She was an older woman with gray scattered throughout her hair. She smacked her gum and gave me a warm smile before leaning down closer to me. "You're daddy Jac Hexley?" She whispered. I looked at her with wide eyes and nodded. "I thought so. He used to come in here all the time."

I smiled at her and looked around before they landed on my hands that were in my lap. "Don't worry, sweetie. I ain't gonna say a word. Now what can I get ya?" I looked up at her, "I'm actually waiting for someone." I looked down the hall to where Eddie was and she sighed. "That boy can't seem to keep his tongue in his own mouth. "Well, if you change your mind just holler."

A few minutes later I saw her going over to Eddie and saying something to him. The girl looked horrified that she had been caught making out with "the freak". Eddie wiped the corner of his mouth m, smirking as the girl pointed at him while saying something. I was assuming it was something along the lines of he better not tell anyone about it. Then she ran out if the diner and Eddie made his way over to me. He slid into the seat across from me and leaned back.

"You're late," he said. I scoffed and shook my head. "Actually, I was on time. If you weren't busy sucking that poor girl's face off you'd know that. Now, let's get to work. I don't want to spend more time with you than I need to." I pulled out the folder Ms. Adler gave me and laid out the first paper. It was one of his tests with little notes on the sides. He got maybe six of the questions right.

"Okay, so it looks like you struggle more with the fraction part. I looked up at Eddie not even paying attention. "Hello!" I snapped my fingers and he turned his head to look at me. "I don't need to know any of this shit to be a rockstar. So what's the fucking point?" I sighed and set my pen down. "For one you need to pass this class to graduate. For two, math actually comes in handy in the real world. Even for a rockstar."

He looked away from me and looked out the window. "You're a musician, you should know that math is a big part of music. Especially fractions. I mean to be honest I'm a little surprised you're not better in math with being a musician," I said. He looked over at me, "and what would you know about music? Huh? Look, let's just get this over with I would like to take a fucking nap before my gig tonight."

It went like this for two weeks of us arguing back and forth more than actually studying. "All we do is fight! He's impossible, dad! I mean you would think he knows this stuff with him being a musician!" I was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. Dad and the rest of the band watched as I went on a rant about Eddie. "Well, honey, there's no shame in giving up on him." I stopped my pacing and looked at him. "Dad!" I whined. He let out a long sigh.

"Alright. Maybe you just need to find a way that he'll understand it," he said. Ash, the drummer in the band, nodded his head. "Yeah, the kids in a band right?" I nodded my head. "So, that means he probably writes his own songs. Maybe you can explain it to him with music and then he'll understand it." There was a collective Yeah and everyone started pitching ideas. I just looked at them until they all stopped. "How do you suppose I do that? I've never written a song in my life."

"Maybe your dad can help out with that," Bret, the band's bass guitarist said. Dad whipped his head towards him. "Excuse me?" They all gave him a look and he groaned. "Fine. Bring him by. Me and the guys will try and help." The other guys tried to protest but he gave them a look that sgur them up. "Bring him by this weekend."

[lostdreamr-blog1]

What a Welcome Home

Request: “Winchester brothers x sister where the sister comes back from not hunting for a while and has a panic attack when something happens…”

Pairings: Dean Winchester x WinchesterSister!Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, and minor language

Word count: 1,047

I was too numb to think about what I was doing or not doing. I had walked into the bunker not knowing who was there, just that I needed to see someone. “Y/N?” I heard someone down the hall call my name out followed by, “Holy shit. Dean!” Hands grabbed my shoulders making me flinch at the sudden contact. I couldn’t focus on who was in front of me or the new set of footsteps running our way. Another set of hands grabbed me, asking what happened. Still, the voices all sounded far away. I looked at my hands and all I could see was the blood on them. The blood of the girl who died, of the boy who was bound to bleed out from his wound. “Y/N, look at me.” This voice had authority and made me look up. “Good girl. I need you to breath for me. Just like I’m doing.” The voice moved my hand against their chest, and I could feel the inhale and exhale. I focused on the rhythmic motion of it, getting my body to do the same. “Her heart rate is coming down.” The fog around me was starting to lift until a loud bang startled me. My body reacted before my mind could and flinched away from the sound. I had to get away. I couldn’t do this again. “She’s going to pass out if she keeps breathing like that.” I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t get away from the demon. Something held me in place, and I was fighting to get away. Suddenly, I felt constricted. My body seemed like it was wrapped in a strait jacket, enabling me to move. The voice was back, “Breathe sweetheart. You have to keep breathing. You are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” I recognized that voice. The one with a bit of grit in it. “Dean?” I was able to pull back and saw the warm smile he had on his face. “It’s me. I’m right here. Can you keep breathing for me? Just for another minute.” I nodded my head and slowly took in my surroundings. I was in the entrance of the bunker and Sam was hovering by us trying to figure out what he could do to help. “Sweetheart, can you tell us what happened?” I looked back to Dean and saw nothing but concern on his face. “There was a demon at this small diner up the road. I was going to stop there and grab a pie to surprise you. Shit, I forgot the pie.” I heard a small chuckle come from Dean, “Don’t worry about the pie. I need to be cutting back anyway.” Sam asked what happened at the diner. “There were only a few people in there, but one of the guys was acting strange. I can’t tell you why, but I worked in the word ‘Christo’ into the conversation and saw him flinch. Everything happened so fast after that. I was trying to exorcise him when he flung me across the room, and he attacked the waitress. I was almost done with the exorcism when he said, ‘They are coming for you, Winchester.’ Then he was gone.” They were both silent for a minute, taking in everything I had told them. “That’s a lot of blood, kid.” I shook my head, “It’s not mine. The waitress was dead before I could get to her. God she couldn’t have been more than 16. And the body the demon was in had this huge cut on his stomach. I tried to wrap it as best as I could, but I couldn’t stay. I called 9-1-1 before I left, but I don’t think he was going to make it. It’s his blood that got on me. I should’ve stayed.” Dean cut in, “No you needed to leave in case more were coming. You did good, Y/N.” Sam said he needed to make some phone calls, probably to look more into things. Dean on the other hand wasn’t letting me out of his sight. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up and then order some food.” I nodded my head and willed my legs to walk again. We had almost made it to the bathroom when I shook my head. “What’s wrong?” I let out a sigh, “I’ve been around demons before. I don’t understand why this one got to me the way it did.” Dean put his hand on my shoulder and said, “You’ve been out of the game for a little while. The survival instincts kicked in and it took your mind a little bit to catch up.” Winchesters aren’t supposed to show fear like this. We are supposed to kick ass and take names later as Dean has put it. But today made me feel like that nine-year-old who tried to take out

a vampire, unsuccessfully I might add, and had nightmares for months. “What’s going through your head, kid?” I gave him a small smile, “Just thinking about that time I snuck out and tried to gank a vampire.” Dean shook his head and chuckled, “Man if there was a time I thought dad was going to kill one of us, it was you. That was the day I think we all realized you were more like me than Sam. Which meant we had to keep a closer eye on you because there was no stopping you once you had your mind set on something.” He paused and looked down, “Which is why I was so damn proud of you when you decided to take a break from this life. You deserve so much more than wondering if you are going to make it to your next birthday.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he pulled me in tight. “Even though this is the literal definition of a chick flick moment, I’ve missed you.” His chest vibrated with laughter, “Missed you too kid.” He pulled back and scrunched his nose up. “Can you please take a shower? You smell like shit.”

A/N: Moving my work to Tumblr!! Requests are open!

[sukunasbabymama]

The waitress.

⌗ Pairing: Naoto Tachibana.

⌗ Word count: 1.6K.

⌗ Warnings: None I guess but lmk. Oh, they make out?

⌗ A/N: unconventional first meetings? That's right.

He was stressed, tired and angry as fuck.

Why the fuck is always him who has to go undercover even after he stopped being a rookie? there must be someone who just doesn’t want to see him sleep early.

Look at him now, sittin in a corner at this high class bar, drinking some bourbon that is gonna cost him half of this month’s salary. He looks over to the man he’s supposed to watch and internally groans, seeing that he looks like he’s here just to get wasted.

“Didn’t your parents tell you that it is rude to stare?” A sultry voice whispers in his ear, he freezes on the spot.

He looks and his eyes widen at the beauty in front of him. You straighten your posture and he takes this opportunity to lower his gaze from your beautiful face, to your cleavage and chest, since you are wearing a dress with the widest neckline he has ever seen.

“Keep going,” You say, turning around slowly, giving him a little show. He looks at your thighs and ass and wets his lips.

And then he remembers he’s working. He sits straight, his face red from embarrassment.

“I-I… sorry.” He murmurs. You chuckle and take the chair next to him.

“Don’t be, I’m a waitress in a high class bar full of dirty old people,” You shrug. “If anything, your stare was the most respectful one I got tonight.”

He stays silent, not knowing what to say.

“So, which one of the big dogs do you need information from?” He chokes on his spit, looking at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just pretty fucking obvious that you’re a cop.”

“What?!” He murmurs and you chuckle.

You lean and without thinking he meets you halfway, letting you get really close to his ear.

“Your suit, all the buttons? Baby boy please,” He looks at his suit and nods, you’re right.

“But, how did you…?”

“I need to be able to read people if I want to keep this job,” You explain. “How can I get good tips if I serve some stingy fucker? I need to know which ones are good money. You look stiff, out of place, and the suit.”

“Well, thank you.” He rolls his eyes and you smile.

“Want me to help you?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the hottest man I’ve seen in a while coming here.” He looks at you and smiles a little.

“I’ll pay you.”

“No.”

“Yes, it can be dangerous to—,”

“Okay, then make out with me.” He chokes on his spit again, and you giggle. “See? You aren’t ready to pay for real, let’s leave—.”

“Deal.”

Oh. Nice.

You stand up and sit on his lap without a warning, he opens his legs a little to make you comfortable. Slowly, you slide your hands all over his chest till you get to his hair, brushing it with your fingers slowly to give him a messy look. Then you open his suit jacket and some buttons of his dress shirt. You look at him and smirk.

“Now, what’s your name, cop?” He shyly puts one hand on your thigh and the other on your hip and you sigh in content because he doesn’t have them too high on your thigh or too low on your waist, just right.

“Naoto.” He murmurs, and you nod.

“Y/N.”

“You don’t need to help me, you could lose your job.” He tries to make you understand. “And, you don’t even know me.”

“You’re right, but I keep on seeing the same people, letting old men touch me just to get some tips that can keep me and my cat with food for the week.” You smile and he feels bad for you. “The salary goes to my rent.”

“So, you are playing the little detective so you can have a little fun in your life, even if that means you can be in danger?” He says, ever so direct and efficient in his deduction. You nod, proudly. “All right. I’ll let you have your fun.”

“Good, now tell me which one.”

“Old man with white suit who’s talking to another waitress,” He murmurs, watching you with a serious expression. “My guess is that he’s waiting for someone but—,”

“They already left,” You explain. “He comes here every single day for her. When she’s not around he starts touching whoever is walking close to him. I think earlier another man came and chatted with him.”

“Did you see if the other gave him something?” You nod.

“You want it?” Naoto gasps. “I can get it for you if you want.”

“I can’t do that.” He shakes his head.

“But I can. I’ll make a scene and you take the thing. I think it’s a file or something.” You are already standing up, ignoring Naoto’s complaints.

When you get to the old man you put on the most annoying tone you can get.

“Daddy! You didn’t tell me you were in the house tonight!” You pout in exaggeration.

“Oh babygirl—“

“Daddy, what?” The other girl says, giving you a knowing look that she will keep the act. A little favor she owes you for taking over her shift when she had a hangover.

“My, my, no need to fight ladies,” The old man laughs. From the corner of your eye you see Naoto gettin closer, doing a great job in his acting.

“No! I thought you were going to give me attention!” You whine and the girl do the same, making the old man get closer to you and away from the table.

“Would you feel better with a little tip, uhm?” He asks with a smile and putting his hand almost on your ass, you give him a fake flirty smile, letting him feel you up. You tilt your head a little and see behind him that the cop, Naoto, has a black folder and is already walking out of the bar. He motions you to follow him.

“I don’t want it now, I’m very mad at you daddy,” You say with a pout. “I’ll go out to smoke one and then you can give me that tip, yeah?”

“Of course.”

You walk out of the bar and to the parking lot, in a far corner there’s Naoto resting his back on a black car. He opens the back door for you and enters behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna get in trouble for not working?” He asks and you shrug.

“When we disappear like that they just assume we are with a customer getting them turned on so they can keep buying drinks, or we are just looking for… extra tips.” He nods, understanding what you mean.

“I can’t open the folder, though.” He says, pointing to the folder with his chin.

“But, is it okay if I do it for you?” You ask, genuinely interested. He nods.

“Do you mind if I record it? So I can write everything down at my office tomorrow and later will know where to start my investigation.” You shake your head no, letting him know that you don’t mind.

And so, you start reading to him the documents, a lot of dates, names and places where in there. He raises his eyebrows on some occasions but doesn't give that much of a reaction. When you’re done he nods.

“I knew they were in dirty business.” He mumbles.

“I assume you got what you were looking for,” You say. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to leave the folder around the club so another waitress finds it and gives it to the dirty bastard. That was fun, cop Naoto! I felt like a detective, have a good rest of the ni—,”

“On my lap.” He says and you look at him deadpan, what? “Didn’t you say you want to make out as a payment?”

“Oh, I didn’t think you were going to agree.”

“I said deal.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t make jokes about my job.” He pats his lap.

Excitedly, you straddle him softly, he opens his legs a little so you can sit on top of him comfortably, you hum. He puts one hand on the back of your neck and pulls you till your lips crash, you sigh on his lips.

At first, he is kind of awkward so you take things slowly, just giving him short pecks while simultaneously scratching the hairs at the back of his neck, he let’s a shaky sigh out and puts his hand on your waist, pulling you closer. When you slide your tongue on his cavity he grunts softly, tightening his grip on your side, he is getting intoxicated by your smell, your touch, your tongue. Hands started to get more in the equation, with yours sliding up and down through his chest and his going to your throat, you sigh on his lips.

“Isn’t that enough, mister cop?”

“It’s not.”

He pulls you back to him to kiss you, now more comfortable, taking your hands and putting them again on the back of his neck, his hands roaming your body softly. You bite his lips and pull back, he almost whines at the loss.

“Naoto, I have to—,”

“I’ll wait for you to end your shift to take you home.”

You chuckle right on his lips.

“You really liked it, uh?” You whisper in a sultry tone.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make you lose the whole shift.” He whispers back, and gives you a small smile.

That’s how you met your later boyfriend, Naoto Tachibana.

🔖: @saturnmitsuya @melaninnntae @milliumizoomi @keimisan @ccxiia @haitanigigi @manjiroarchiviste @welkinmoongrab @dai-tsukki-desu @yunho-leeknow @plutosexc

[write-orflight]

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities. 

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her. 

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.  

“Who is that?” He had asked. 

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”  

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that. 

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.   

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles. 

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay. 

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.” 

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room. 

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.” 

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.” 

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.  

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.” 

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.  

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly. 

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that? 

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.” 

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly. 

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him. 

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking. 

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I  just know stuff sometimes too.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”  

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous. 

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could. 

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.” 

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides. 

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.” 

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.  

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging. 

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks. 

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes. 

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.” 

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.” 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board. 

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that. 

“Thank you.” You say, softly. 

“What for?” Spencer asks. 

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.” 

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him. 

What? 

------------------------------------------------------------------

 After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea. 

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.” 

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”   

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true. 

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you. 

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in. 

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it. 

“If I have the time.” You shrug. 

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.” 

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”   

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man. 

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.” 

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.” 

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you. 

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock. 

-------------------------------------------------------- 

 After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast. 

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you. 

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break. 

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame. 

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?” 

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.” 

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. 

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking. 

“And why’s that?” He says. 

“You’re already weak.” You say. 

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.”  He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you. 

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?”  He asks. 

“N-No, sir.” You stutter. 

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you. 

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.” 

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge. 

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out.  Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw. 

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?”  He asks. 

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.  

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place. 

“P-Please.” you stutter. 

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more. 

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together. 

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name. 

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you. 

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?” 

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.” 

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.” 

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask. 

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.” 

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say. 

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles. 

“So….?” 

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?” 

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”    

Perm. Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

[storiesforallfandoms]

can’t buy me ~ jimmy smith jr.;8 mile

word count: 1577

request?: yes!

@girl-toxxic "reader and Jimmy are in a relationship not long ago but Jimmy was always in love and they both live in the same place, ok but let's say that reader meets a new friend at work (she is a waitress or can be a babysitter for a rich girl) and this new friend has a lot of money and is very interested in reader and the reader get along well and this makes Jimmy insecure, since reader's friend gives him small gifts and helps him a lot. But you can add something that is more interesting as the boy confesses his feelings to the reader and she rejects him since Jimmy is her great love and he tells her how can she go out with that poor devil ... or something else interesting what occurs to you. And that this ends in a lot of love and smut, bah if you feel comfortable🤗💕💕"

description: in which her new friend keeps trying to make advances through gifts, but her heart belongs to one man

pairing: jimmy smith jr. x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

I walked through the door and made a beeline for the kitchen to throw away yet another gift from my not so secret admirer. The last thing I needed was for Jimmy to see what Mark had give me and to get upset about it.

I worked as a waitress at a bar and grill down the road from mine and Jimmy’s house. The hours were only okay, but the tips more than made up for it, especially after our newest regular, Mark, started dining there and specifically asked to have me as his server whenever he was in.

Mark was in his late 30s, handsome, worked a good job that paid good money. He came in one night after he had a particularly hard shift. He sat at the bar, and it was the night I was working it, so I talked him through his rough day. Next thing I knew, he was coming back and asking for me again. We became friendly, but it took me a little too long to realize he wanted to be more than friends.

I turned the corner and yelped as I realized I wasn’t alone. Jimmy was leaning against the counter, almost like he was waiting for me.

“Hey babe,” I said. “I thought you were at the Shelter with Future tonight.”

His eyes flickered to the gift bag in my hand. “He wanted me to come home. We haven’t had a night together in months.”

“Doesn’t help that we both work late night jobs,” I tried to joke. The bag felt heavy in my hand as Jimmy kept looking at it.

“That rick prick buy you more useless shit?” he asked.

“Jimmy,” I sighed.

“Sorry, I forgot it was okay for some rich jackass to buy my girlfriend expensive gifts.”

He wouldn’t meet my eye. He kept glancing around the kitchen, every so often looking down at the bag in my hand. I dropped everything I was holding onto the floor, including that stupid gift, and raced over to hug him.

“Hey,” I said, softly, resting my head on his chest. “Hey, you know there’s nothing to this. It’s just a guy who doesn’t understand I’m not interested.”

“It’s a guy who has money.”

I lighted my head to look at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

I pulled away from him. “No, tell me.” When he didn’t speak, I took his chin in my hand and forced him to look at me. “Jimmy, do you think I’d leave you for someone who makes more money?”

“He’d be able to give you what you deserve,” he responded. “A house, a car, expensive gifts - ”

“We have a house,” I cut him off. “You have a car, and I don’t want expensive gifts. I don’t want materialistic things, I want happiness and love, and that’s what I get with you. You really have nothing to worry about in regards to Mark. You’re the one I’ll always want.”

Jimmy sighed and pulled me close. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll give you that reassurance any day.”

I leaned up to kiss him. He relaxed into the kiss and I leaned into him more.

When he pulled away, Jimmy turned to look at the forgotten present on the floor. “What did that asshole get you this time anyways?”

I picked up the bag and pulled out the box that was inside. Jimmy opened the box to reveal the gold necklace Mark had given me. The pendant was gold to match, and it was my initial.

“I was gonna chuck it when I got home,” I told him. It’s way too flashy for me, it wouldn’t match anything I own.”

“Don’t throw it out. This is, like, real gold. We can sell it for a good chunk of money.”

I smiled. “I like the way you think, Rabbit.”

~~~~~~

The next day, Jimmy had the night off from the Shelter so he drove me to work. He followed me into the bar and grill with the intentions of sitting at the bar for an hour or two before going home. One of my co-workers spotted us as we walked in and gave me a panicked look. I immediately knew what she was trying to tell me.

I saw Mark sat at the bar before he saw me. I was about to turn to Jimmy to warn him when Mark spotted me and rose from his seat. He had a wide smile on his face, until he saw Jimmy behind me.

“Two nights in a row, Mark?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Those wings and nachos are gonna start getting to you.”

“I went to the gym this morning, so it cancels out,” he responded. “Who’s this with you?”

“This is my boyfriend, Jimmy. I told you about him, remember?”

“Oh yeah, the...rapper,” Mark said. I didn’t miss the way he sneered the word “rapper”, and Jimmy didn’t either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mark shrugged. “Nothing. Just stating a fact that (Y/N) told me. Although, rapping at that rundown warehouse probably doesn’t pay as much as a real job would.”

Jimmy stepped towards Mark, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Hey, he’s not worth it. Just go home. Thank you for the ride.”

Jimmy glared at Mark before turning to walk away. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the situation seemed to defuse easily.

And then Matt spoke again, “Yeah, go back to the trailer park, white trash.”

Jimmy snapped and charged at Mark before I could stop him. He knocked Mark to the ground and reared up to hit him. I quickly grabbed his arm and pulled as hard as I could until Jimmy was off of Mark.

“Get out before security gets called,” I told him.

He got to his feet and walked out the door before anything else could happen. Mark was getting to his feet and adjusting his clothes. I was trying to calm myself down as I regarded him.

“Please leave, Mark.”

“Seriously? Your trailer trash boyfriend attacked me, but you’re kicking me out?”

“You provoked him.”

“I wasn’t saying anything he hasn’t heard before, or anything that wasn’t true.”

“Fuck off!” I snapped, my anger finally bubbling over. “You are fucking insufferable! I’ve told you on multiple occasions that I have a boyfriend, that I’m not interested. Most people would take the fucking hint and move on. The way you’ve been acting, especially tonight, is way out of line. I want you to get the fuck out and if I ever see you here again I will contact the authorities and have you charged for harassment.”

Mark blinked, realized I was being serious, and finally left. He muttered some less than ideal names towards me as he walked out the door. I sighed and buried my head in my hands. I was grateful that there wasn’t many customers in the area as all of this went down.

“Hey.” I looked up at my co-worker, who was now in front of me. “Go check on your man.”

I thanked her and quickly walked out the door. I didn’t expect him to still be outside, so I was surprised to see him stood by his car, almost like he was waiting for me to come out.

“Did I get you in trouble?”

I gave him a small smile and shook my head. “No. If anything, you did me a favor. When it became evident that Mark wasn’t taking no for an answer, all of us wanted to ban him from the place entirely, but we weren’t allowed unless he really caused trouble. I think it’s safe to say starting a fight is more than probable cause to make sure he never comes back.”

Jimmy was nodding and rubbing the back of his head. “I probably could’ve handled that better though.”

“I didn’t expect you to handle it any other way,” I said. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Are you okay?”

Jimmy chuckled slightly. “Cocksucker didn’t even try to hit me. Did you see his face when I tackled him? He looked like he shit himself.”

I giggled. “Yeah, he’s definitely not a fighter. He’s too much like a high school mean girl for someone who works an office job and makes as much money as he does.”

Jimmy wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, resting his chin on top of my head. “I’m glad you stopped me. I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him if you didn’t.”

“I would’ve liked to see that.”

We both stood in silence for a while. I buried my nose in Jimmy’s sweater, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne. It made a warm feeling swell inside of me, like a safe feeling. It reminded me of how I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than in Jimmy’s arms, or with anyone else besides Jimmy. No amounts of money, or people like Mark could ever change my mind about that.

“I should actually go to work,” I said, reluctantly untangling myself from Jimmy’s arms. “I’ll see you when I get off?”

“Of course, I’ll come pick you up.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. I started back towards the restaurant, but paused to turn back to Jimmy. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”