#this is why you organize your phones notes kids

[lighthouseshepard]

was talking a while ago about the idea of arthur seeing john ringed in gold as his eyesight returns after theyre separated, kind of like an aura effect which would dwindle as time went on. forgot i did this tiny piece of jarthur fluff in my phones notes eifjejf

"What are you looking at?"

John raises one inquisitive brow in Arthur's direction, but it takes him a solid ten seconds to process the question. Blinking as though coming out of a daze, he shakes his head, tired eyes wide.

"What?"

"You were staring at me," rumbles John. "Quite intensely, I might add."

"Oh." Arthur swallows, dragging a hand across his face. "Sorry, John. Just lost in thought, I guess."

Across from him at their tiny kitchen table, John stretches out a hand. He takes Arthur's left, splayed loosely across the worn wood, in his own. Fingers intertwine, a suggestion of warmth and security pressed into his palm through a firm squeeze.

"I didn't say it bothered me."

Arthur smiles at the twinkle in John's eye. It wasn't the only light about him. His skin seemed to glow from within, every flawless and unscarred inch bathed in a subtle haze of gold, and Arthur knew the window behind them had nothing to do with it. Neither could explain it. Then again, neither knew what complications could arise from separating two souls into one. Where initially he thought the effect might blind him anew it only added to the ache of awe felt whenever he caught himself gazing for too long. John was a hard one to look away from overall - the thin veneer of light, cascading over him like a perpetual sunrise whenever Arthur least expected it, did nothing to make that any easier.

John didn't seem to mind. He liked the attention, even if he would never admit to it.

"Sorry, it's just... it's interesting, you know?" Arthur murmurs contemplatively. "I wonder if anyone else sees you this way, or if it's just the effect you have on me because you had my eyes."

"I think," John hums, "asking others if they saw a nonexistent light with no visible source would be a terrible idea."

Scoffing, he taps one finger impatiently against the back of John's hand. "Hush. I'm not going to do that, obviously. I just mean it's curious. Noel said he couldn't see anything, so why..."

"Why you?" John finishes the thought for him. "I don't know, Arthur. It could be my influence, it could be solely us separating. Does it... bother you?" he adds uncertainly.

Arthur meets his eye anew. They were bright hazel, possessive of an earnest desire to understand this new physical life he'd earned and everything which came with it. They too seemed to glow in the right environments, often at night when they laid inches apart, holding the other close. In the depths of that hue he could easily spot filaments of deep amber. Sun warmed whiskey, he liked to say. It always made John flush.

"No," Arthur says. "Not really. Honestly, it reminds me of staring directly into a cloudless sky at the sun high overhead. I glance down, blink back, and the imprint of that light remains long after. It suits you, I think. You spent so long in the dark world, John. You deserve a little illumination of your own."

John doesn't immediately respond. Smiling at his taken aback expression, Arthur stands up from the chair, never once letting his hand go.

"You're very pretty, darling," he says quietly. Leaning down, he kisses the top of his head, mouth soft against black waves. "Whether this continues or not the father on we go, I'm okay with it. I like you ringed in gold."

[mollyjimbly]

🚨🚨🚨RED ALERT🚨🚨🚨

if you care about trans folks please take a few minutes to read through this post and share.

They are not even trying to hide their true intentions with KOSA...

"Top of the agenda is to go after providers of gender affirming care, including for adults. The FTC could also go after online platforms for displaying LGBTQ content which would be supercharged under KOSA."

This is catastrophically bad.

There is a HUGE push to pass KOSA rn at the end of the year.

Real quick summary: Blumenthal and Blackburn "rewrote" KOSA to appeal to the right more. They worked with ELON MUSK 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♂️ to push this bill "protecting kids". Tomorrow, many orgs are bringing groups of parents to speak to congress. This is coming at a time when FTC commissioner admitted their agenda is straight transphobia:

There are two ways KOSA can be passed right now. Either from the House or attaching it to an end of year spending bill. They will try both.

Republican leadership (Scalise and Johnson) are surprisingly what is stopping thia from going through. They wont admit it out loud but they dont like the bill.

WE NEED TO PUSH BACK NOW!! Tomorrow those phones need to be ringing OFF THE HOOK while they meet with parents.

PLEASE SPREAD THIS EVERYWHERE!! ADD THESE LINKS TO TWITTER, REDDIT, INSTA, TIKTOK!!

USE THESE CALLING TOOLS AND SCRIPTS TODAY AND TOMORROW ALL DAY!!!

SCRIPTS:

🔴 If your rep is GOP:

"I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA, the Kid’s Online Safety Act. This is a dangerous bill that will harm children.

Many news organizations have reported that this bill actively harms kids by exposing their private data to strangers under the guise of protecting them.

We need to hold Big Tech accountable, but KOSA is not the solution.

The bill let any state attorney general and the FTC to sue any website for “harmful” content. Do we really want blue state lawyers deciding what can and can’t be allowed online?

Big Tech is already censoring us. That’s why they support KOSA. This is massive government overreach. We need a bill that actually protects children by creating better security measures instead of bringing about more censorship.

Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language.

KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies, which would put them in further danger. How is this protecting children’s privacy?

What parent would want their child’s private data in the hands of strangers like this? KOSA is actively putting kids in danger.

Do NOT support this bill. Thank you."

Also,to note, Biden supports KOSA: You could try asking your GOP rep why they would support a bill that has Biden's support,and that he could use it to his advantage somehow (we know GOP does not like Biden,so it should be utilized somehow). We need to ensure the bill doesnt pass at all.

🔵 if your rep is DEM:

"I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA. Nearly 200 human rights and LGBT organizations total came out in an open letter opposing it. The ACLU is against it. Hundreds of thousands of Gen Z, who actually live online, are against it.

We know the harms of social media, and we know this is not the solution. The new language does NOT meet any concerns brought up, in fact many organizations were ignored.

Major news have reported that this bill actively harms kids. We do not want this. The rewritten bill would still allow any state attorney general, and now the FTC, to sue any website for “harmful” content. When you have Republicans calling anything LGBT “sexual exploitation” or anything about race “CRT” to successfully ban books and teachers, then they will use any justification to censor the internet.

The Missouri attorney general used “mental health” successfully to ban gender-affirming care with backed up research. Suicide rates will skyrocket for marginalized youth with this bill restricting content. Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language.

KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies. Furthermore, updated language threatens encryption the same way the Earn It Act does.

How is this protecting children’s privacy? KOSA actively harms kids. Do NOT support this bill. Thank you."

Tell them you'll vote for your reps if they vote no on KOSA, anything goes. But most importantly it's crucial that KOSA is not being brought at all for any vote.

Thank you, remember to stay calm and stay strong. We've got this!! ♡

[screaminglygay]

Hop on.

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: when your brother’s bike breaks down, you turn to natasha´s shop for help, what starts as a simple repair leads to a whirlwind of teasing banter. sometimes, fixing a bike can lead to mending more than just machinery.

warnings: bike accident, but nothing horrible, then just FLUFF!!, mild teasing, brother being an ass hehe

word count: 8.9k

an: i wrote this a while ago, but i still really like this one a lot, so i hope you´ll do too:) also yes, i don´t know anything about bikes:D

"What can I help you with?" The receptionist asks, but noticing you´re worried look right away.

"Um… my brother, he- had an accident," you mumble out to her.

"Can you tell me your name, miss?" She looks down at her computer.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you show her your ID.

The lady gives you the ID back, makes a few clicks and looks back at you, "he is in the room number seven."

You basically sprint there, slamming the door open, thankfully your brother was the only person in there. But the sight of him made you confused, he was sitting on the bed, smiling as usual, just few bruises on his face and a bandage oh his leg.

"Hey, sis," he makes the peace sign, while your heartbeat is going milions per seconds.

"Hey, sis?! Hey, sis?! What the hell?!" You walk up to him and smack him.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He scratches his head.

"What was- are you kidding me?" You pull out your phone, "25 minutes ago, I got this message from your friend: 'hey, don´t freak out, but your brother is going to the hospital, bike accident.' I rush here, committing like thirty-seven crimes…and you´re here smiling and saying 'hey, sis?!'"

"Oh… Kevin´s idiot," he shakes his head.

"No, you are! What the hell happened?!" You move your hands around.

"Can you just chill for a second? Jeez." He stratches, "We were riding, normally, but then one of the cars cut me off and I slipped. I´m fine, but bike was pretty fucked up." As he tells you the story of what´ve happened, you scan his face, obivously you´re glad he is okay, but deep down you´re angry that he still rides that thing.

"Are you sure you´re okay? You look down on his leg.

"Yeah, nothing that didn´t happened before. But uh… I need ride back home." He shifts in his position, even when he tries to mask it, he is still in some visible pain.

"I figured. Stay here, I´ll get someone…"

After two hours he is finally let out of the hospital, you help him into the passenger seat, careful not to jar his injured leg. As you close the door, you mutter, “I swear, one day that bike is going to be the death of you.”

He rolls his eyes as you start the car. “You worry too much. It’s not like I haven’t crashed before.”

“Yeah, and you’re still riding that death trap.” You grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “Why do you even keep that thing? It’s not like you can ride it anytime soon.”

He winces as he shifts in his seat, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I need it fixed, okay? I’ll be careful next time. Can you help me with that… pleaseee?

You let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you didn’t end up worse. Fine, I’ll take care of it, but you’re not driving that bike again until I’m sure it won’t fall apart under you.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he says, softer than before, like he knows you mean well even when you’re pissed. He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “You know, there’s a mechanic not far from here, Red Guardian.”

You nod, making a mental note. “I’ll check it out. But you, mister, are on bed rest.”

"Aren´t you three years younger than me?"

You glance at him, "and yet I´m the smarter one, so bed it is."

“Whatever you say, mom.”

...

Two days later you finally arrive at Red Guardin, a place that looks far more organized than you expected for a bike shop. The sign is simple, but the place has a charm, just like you’d heard. You park your car and walk inside, the smell of oil and metal hitting you as you step through the door.

A woman with fiery red braided hair is leaning over a motorcycle, hands deep in the engine. She doesn’t look up as she says, “Be with you in a sec.”

You clear your throat, trying not to be too obvious as you check her out. “Uh, take your time.”

She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag before turning to face you. Her green eyes meet yours, and she gives you a small, confident smirk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here about my brother’s bike,” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Your brother? The guy who got cut off and ended up in the hospital?” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I heard about him. Of what I´ve heard that bike’s a mess, but there is nothing I can´t fix.”

You blink, a little taken aback. “You already know about it?”

“Word travels fast in this town,” Natasha replies, that teasing smile still on her lips. “Plus, your brother’s been in here before. He’s not exactly subtle.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course. He didn’t tell me that part.”

“So, where’s the patient?” Natasha smiles as she takes some gloves.

You fumble with your words for a moment, feeling a little awkward. “Uh, it’s in my car. Or, well, in the truck bed."

You lead her outside to where you´re parked. Natasha walks around it, examining the damage with a critical eye. She’s quiet for a moment, then looks over at you. “Well, the frame’s a little bent, and the engine’s definitely seen better days. But it’s not totaled. I can fix this.”

You nod, relieved. “Thank God. I had no idea what to do. I mean, I know a bike has wheels, an engine, and all that, but that’s where my knowledge ends.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smile. “Good thing you came to the right place. I’ll need to take it inside and get a closer look. Mind helping me unload it?”

You quickly agree, and the two of you start unstrapping the bike. Natasha shows you where to hold it and how to carefully lower it down. As you work together, she starts explaining what she’s looking for.

“See this here?” she says, pointing to a section of the frame. “It’s bent, but not too badly. I’ll have to realign it, though. And this,” she taps the engine, “will need a rebuild. Your brother’s lucky it didn’t crack.”

You listen intently, trying to follow along even though most of what she’s saying goes over your head. Natasha notices your blank expression and laughs softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m done, it’ll be good as new.”

You can’t help but smile at how confident she is. “Thanks," you look down for a name tag, but there isn´t one,

"It´s Natasha," she smiles.

You nod, "Natasha, I really appreciate it. My brother would lose his mind if he thought he couldn’t ride again.”

She gives you a quick wink. “No problem. I’m used to fixing things, especially when they mean a lot to someone.”

There’s a warmth in her voice that makes your heart skip a beat. You swallow nervously, trying to focus on the bike and not the way Natasha is looking at you with that confident, playful smirk.

You´re glad that you found the right place.

…

As you pull up to your house, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. As you step inside, your brother is lounging on the couch, leg propped up on a stack of pillows, flipping through channels on the TV. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Well?” he asks, cutting straight to the point. “Is it fixable? Am I ever going to ride again?”

You set your bag down and kick off your shoes, feeling the day’s tension start to melt away. “Natasha said it’s fixable, but it’ll take some time. The frame’s bent, and the engine needs a rebuild. But she’s confident she can get it back in shape.” You repeat what she told you earlier.

He visibly relaxes, “Natasha is fixing it? Good. I was worried it’d be a total loss."

“Yeah, well, you got lucky,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. “You’re not exactly gentle on that thing.”

He scoffs. “It’s a bike, not a porcelain doll. It’s meant to be ridden hard.”

You roll your eyes. “And that’s why you’re here, with a busted leg, instead of out riding. You should really be more careful.”

He shoots you a teasing grin. “You sound like mom agan.”

“Someone has to, since you clearly don’t listen at all.”

He chuckles, then winces as he adjusts his leg. “Okay, okay, point taken. But when it will be ready?”

Your expression softening. “Natasha said she’ll have it back to you in no time. She knows what she’s doing. It’ll be like new—maybe even better.”

He sighs, relief washing over his features. “Great-" you cut him off.

"You´ll take it easy when you get back on the road. No more stunts, no more pushing your luck. You got off easy this time, but next time you might not be so lucky.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it!” you say, your tone firm but caring. “I don’t want to get another call like that.”

His teasing expression fades, and he nods more seriously. “I know. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

You give him a small smile, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Good. Now, get some rest."

"I will, but can you promise you will check on the bike, when you can?" He gives you the best innocent look he possibly can.

"I will check it out tomorrow after work." You nod.

“Thanks, sis. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you reply, “and don’t forget it.”

As you walk away, you hear him mutter, “I won’t!”

…

The next day, you find yourself back at the shop, unable to shake the feeling of curiosity or maybe it’s something else entirely, that pulls you there. The familiar scent of motor oil and metal greets you as you step inside. Natasha is already hard at work, leaning over a bike with her back to you, her hands moving expertly as she adjusts something under the engine. You can´t help, but stare. Her toned hands are someting you can definetly look at forever.

She glances up as you approach, a smirk playing on her lips when she sees you basically drooling. “Back again? You know, most people don’t check in this often. Are you here to make sure I’m actually working?”

You snap back out of your thoughts, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. My brother’s just obsessed with that bike. He’s convinced it needs constant check-ups or it’ll fall apart. Honestly, he probably cares about it more than is healthy.”

Natasha straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag as she walks over to you, a teasing glint in her eye. “Sounds like a lot of work, keeping up with all those concerns. You know, I could make it easier for you…”

“Oh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you do that?”

She leans casually against the counter, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “I could give you my number. That way, you can check in on the bike whenever you or your brother want. Get updates straight from the source.”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered by how smooth she is. “Right, for the bike.”

“Of course, for the bike,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with playful innocence, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this. She pulls her phone from her pocket, handing it to you. “Here, you can add your number.”

You take her phone, typing in your contact details, and then you pause. Instead of handing it back, you grin and ring yourself right away.

Natasha chuckles, clearly impressed. She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. Her expression shifts into one of amused surprise when she sees what you’ve entered. “Finally, I get to know your name. Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N).”

You feel your cheeks warm slightly as she says your name, her voice low and smooth.

She grins, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “Well, I like to take my time with the important things. So tell you brother it will take some time, just to make sure his bike is ready for his awful riding."

You swallow, trying not to get too flustered under her gaze. “I´ll tell him that." You nod.

With one last shared look, you turn to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. As you step out of the shop, your phone buzzes. You glance down to see a new text from Natasha: “Just in case you need another excuse to visit. See you soon, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, already looking forward to the next visit.

...

Over the next few days, you find yourself returning to the shop more often than you’d care to admit. At first, it’s just to check on the bike, of course, but then you don´t even care to hide, that there is one more, bigger reason to come into the shop.

One afternoon, she catches you watching her as she tightens a bolt on the engine. “You know, you’re here enough that I should put you to work.”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She gives you her usual smirk. “I could show you. How about a crash course in motorcycle basics?” Before you can protest, she’s grabbing a helmet off the wall and tossing it to you. “Here, put this on.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even know how to ride.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “I’ll take care of you.”

"I- won´t this get you into a trouble?" You frown a bit.

"My dad owns the shop, I think I´ll be fine." You feel your cheeks heat up as you put on the helmet. Natasha swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind her. “Hop on.”

You hesitate for just a moment before climbing on, wrapping your arms around her waist. She revs the engine, the sound vibrating through you as she takes off, the wind whipping past your face. She’s almost intoxicating at everything she does.

When she finally stops back in the parking lot next to the shop, your heart is racing for more reasons than one. Natasha turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not bad for a first ride, huh?”

You can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

Natasha swings her leg over the bike, smoothly dismounting and turning to face you. Ugh the stupid smirk on her pretty face. “You handled yourself pretty well back there. I think you’ve got some natural talent.” She helps you take off the helmet.

You laugh, still feeling the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine. “I was just trying not to fall off. But I’ll take the compliment.”

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel her parfume mixed with oil from the repairs. “You know, riding isn’t just about holding on. It’s about trust. Trusting the bike, trusting yourself… and maybe trusting the person in front of you.”

Your breath catches slightly at her words, and you realize she’s no longer just talking about riding. You meet her eyes, and there’s a tension between you, a pull that’s hard to ignore. “I guess I did trust you back there.”

Natasha’s smirk widens, and she tilts her head, studying you with a gaze that feels like it’s seeing right through you. “Good. I like that.”

You try to steady your breathing, but it’s difficult with her standing so close. “Do you do this with all your clients?”

She chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “I don’t take just anyone for a ride, (Y/N). Consider yourself special.”

The way she says your name makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a moment of a silence between you, making you aware of how close she is, how her eyes seem to linger on yours, searching for something.

Natasha’s gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath hitches. “You know,” she says softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “there’s a lot more I could show you. If you’re interested.”

Your pulse quickens, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. The air between you feels charged, every second stretching out as you weigh her words. You know she’s definetly not just talking about bikes anymore, and the realization sends a thrill through you.

“I think I’m interested,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Good.” She steps even closer, her presence almost overwhelming now. “Because I don’t do half-measures, (Y/N). If you’re in, you’re all in.”

You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach, but it’s not enough to hold you back. “I think I can handle that.”

Her eyes darken slightly, her voice taking on a more serious note. “Are you sure? Because once we start, I don’t plan on stopping.”

The intensity of her words makes your heart race, but you don’t back down. Instead, you meet her gaze head-on, the challenge in her eyes only spurring you on. “I’m sure, Natasha.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, as if making a decision, Natasha leans in, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch is brief but electric, sending a jolt through you.

“Glad to hear it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin

Before you can respond, Natasha finally pulls back, though the look in her eyes tells you that this is far from over. She glances at the bike, then back at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You should head home. I wouldn’t want to keep you out too late… this time.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Right. I should… probably get going.”

“Probably,” she agrees, though there’s a teasing edge to her voice that makes it clear she wouldn’t mind if you stayed longer.

As you walk back to your car, Natasha watches you with that same unreadable expression, like she’s already planning the next move. You reach your car door, pausing to glance back at her. “So… I’ll come check on the bike tomorrow same time?”

Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe of the shop, her smile turning into something almost predatory. “I´m counting on it, (Y/N).”

You give her a small smile in return, feeling that same mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. As you start the car and pull away, you can’t help but glance at her going inside the shop once more.

The cool night air feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out of the car going back home, the smile on your face almost impossible to hide. As you approach the front door, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But the excitement from the evening is still buzzing inside you, making it hard to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

When you walk inside, your brother is sprawled out on the couch again, a half-empty bag of chips beside him and a game paused on the TV. He looks up as you close the door behind you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You’re home late,” he remarks, his voice dripping with curiosity. “What’s got you all smiley?”

You pause, trying to wipe the grin off your face, but it’s no use. “Oh, nothing,” you say, attempting nonchalance as you shrug out of your jacket and hang it up. “Just, you know… checking on your bike.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Uh-huh. And since when does checking on my bike make you look like you just won the lottery?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s playful, and he knows it. “Since today, apparently.”

He narrows his eyes at you, sitting up a bit straighter. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. But then you decide it’s harmless enough. “Well… I rode it, you know a test ride I assume.”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, what? You rode my bike? The same bike you’ve always refused to even sit on?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. Natasha let me try it out.”

His expression shifts, realization dawning as a smirk spreads across his face. “Natasha, huh? So, you finally decided to take the plunge… because she asked?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure it’s not,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “You always said no to me, no matter how many times I tried to get you on that bike. But one pretty redhead asks, and suddenly you’re Evel Knievel.”

You try to play it cool, but you can’t help the smile that slips out. “Well, she made a good case. And besides, you know how scared I am.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, so scared until Natasha Romanoff turns on the charm. I see how it is.”

You grab a throw pillow and toss it at him, but he catches it easily, still grinning. “Shut up.”

He throws the pillow back, missing you by an inch. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, I knew something was up when you walked in all smiley. I didn’t expect it to be this, though.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own laughter. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” he says proudly, then adds with a wink, “So, when’s the next ‘check-up’ on my bike?”

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t help the small smile that lingers on your lips. “Goodnight, dork,” you say, turning to head toward your room.

“Goodnight, bike thief,” he calls after you, his voice filled with playful teasing.

As you close your bedroom door behind you, you lean against it for a moment, your smile growing even wider. Just as you’re about to lay in bed and snuggle with your blanket, your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification.

You reach over and grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see who the message is from.

Natasha: Hope you didn’t get into trouble for coming home so late. Wouldn’t want to get you grounded ;)

You can’t help but smile at the playful tone in her text.

You quickly type out a reply: No, just had to endure a bit of teasing. My brother thinks he’s hilarious.

You hit send, still smiling as you stare at your phone, waiting to see if she’ll reply. It doesn’t take long before your phone buzzes again.

Natasha: Sounds like he’s got a good sense of humor. He’s probably just jealous you rode his bike.

Your smile widens as you think about her words, and the memory of the ride flashes in your mind. The wind, the speed, the way Natasha’s laughter had echoed in the air, it had been more fun than you ever expected. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you type your response.

You type out: Maybe. But I think it was more because of the company than the ride.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you wonder if you were too forward. But then your phone buzzes again, and Natasha’s reply makes your heart flutter.

Natasha: I was hoping you’d say that. Maybe next time, we can make the ride even more interesting.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your giddy excitement in check. There’s something intoxicating about the way she flirts, the way she effortlessly mixes teasing with sincerity. You decide to match her energy, your fingers dancing across the screen as you craft your response.

You: I’m all for interesting;)

A few seconds pass before her next message arrives.

Natasha: Challenge accepted, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.

You grin at the screen, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through your chest.

You: Goodnight, Natasha.

You set your phone down and curl up under the covers, still smiling as you think about her last text. The excitement from the evening lingers as you drift off to sleep. Whatever happens next, you’re ready for it.

…

A couple of days have passed since you lastly check up on the bike, some work got stuck up and you weren´t able to see Natasha as much as you´d like. Thanfuly the texting between you and Natasha has only gotten more frequent, filled with light-hearted banter, playful teasing, and the occasional flirty remark.

Then, one evening, just as you’re settling down after dinner, your phone buzzes with a new message. You pick it up, your heart doing that now familiar little flip when you see Natasha’s name on the screen.

Natasha: So, I was thinking… how about we do something that doesn’t involve bikes this weekend?

You blink at the screen, your pulse quickening. It’s not exactly a date invitation, but it’s close enough that your mind immediately starts racing.

You: What do you have in mind?

Her reply comes almost instantly.

Natasha: I know a nice spot for dinner. How does Friday sound?

Your stomach flips with excitement. This is definitely a date. You type back before you can overthink it.

You: Friday sounds perfect.

Natasha: Great. I’ll pick you up at 7.

You stare at the screen, a grin spreading across your face. A date. With Natasha. Suddenly, Friday can’t come fast enough.

…

When Friday finally arrives, you’re a bundle of nerves and excitement. By late afternoon, you’re standing in front of your closet, pulling out outfits and discarding them almost as quickly. Nothing seems right - too casual, too dressy, not “you” enough. You groan in frustration, tossing yet another dress onto the bed.

“Uh… what’s going on in here?” your brother’s voice cuts through your frantic search, and you turn to see him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Shouldn´t you be in bed?" You look at his leg.

He shakes his head, "what´s all of this?" Your brother nods towards the mess in your room.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your flushed cheeks and the mess of clothes around you betray the truth.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, hopping into the room and picking up a discarded top. “Who are you getting all dressed up for?”

You hesitate, then sigh, realizing there’s no use hiding it. “Natasha invited me to dinner. She’s picking me up in an hour.”

His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow as a grin spreads across his face. “Natasha? Oooo (Y/N) has a date, (Y/N) has a date!"

You nod, biting your lip as you rifle through your clothes again. “Yeah. So, I need to find something that says ‘date,’ but not ‘trying too hard.’”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. “Wow, you must really like her if you’re this worked up.”

You huff, grabbing a simple but flattering top that you haven’t worn in a while. “Maybe I do. But it’s just… I don’t know, I want it to be perfect, you know?”

He watches you for a moment, then his teasing demeanor softens. “You’ll look great, no matter what you wear. Just be yourself, and she’ll be into it.”

You pause, then smile gratefully at him. “Thanks.”

"But don´t wear that," he points at the top you´re holding, "take the black shirt over there." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, but to be honest you´re really glad, that you have your brother there, to ease your nerves. When you look in the mirror, you feel a little more confident. You can do this.

Right on time, there´s a buzz from your phone. You grab your purse, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. Your brother, ever the nosy one, is already at the window, peeking through the curtains. “Your ride’s here,” he says, smirking. “And I gotta say, she cleans up nice.”

You roll your eyes at him but feel your pulse quicken as you reach the door. Sure enough, when you step outside, Natasha is waiting for you, leaning casually against a car. But tonight, she’s swapped out her usual work clothes for something a little more polished - dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket over a crisp shirt, and boots that complete the look. The sight of her takes your breath away.

“Wow,” you manage to say as you walk up to her. “It’s nice to see you in something other than grease-stained coveralls.”

Natasha grins, her eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “You look pretty well yourself. But don’t get too used to this, I’m usually more comfortable getting my hands dirty.”

You chuckle, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I like both looks.”

She steps closer, her gaze warm as it meets yours. “Good to know. Ready for dinner?”

“Definitely,” you reply nervously.

As she opens the passenger door for you, she suddenly glances over your shoulder and smirks. “Looks like we have an audience.”

You glance back to see your brother peeking out from behind the curtains, grinning like an idiot. He gives you a thumbs up, then waves cheekily at Natasha, who waves back with a teasing smile.

“Sorry about him,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up as you climb into the car. “He’s… enthusiastic.”

Natasha just laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “He’s alright. At least he approves.”

“Yeah, well, he’s probably just happy I’m not yelling at him for riding that bike,” you reply with a grin.

As Natasha starts the car and pulls away from the house, she glances over at you, her voice taking on a playful tone. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure this date is worth the teasing you’re going to get when you get home.”

You meet her gaze, feeling the spark between you light up again. “I’m sure it will be.”

Natasha drives you to a cozy restaurant that you’ve never been to before. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard but still manages to be effortlessly charming. She leads you to a table by the window, where the view of the city lights adds a romantic touch to the evening. After you’re both seated, Natasha gives the server a nod, clearly a regular here, and within moments, two glasses of wine are placed in front of you.

“Do you come here often?” you ask, taking a sip.

“Every now and then,” Natasha replies with a shrug. “It’s one of those hidden gems. Not too crowded, good food, great wine. Figured it’d be a good spot to… get to know each other better.”

You smile, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect. And I agree, it’s definitely got a vibe.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, her gaze settling on you. “So, what else should I know about you, besides the fact that you’re fiercely protective of your brother and apparently a quick learner when it comes to riding bikes?”

You laugh, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of riding bikes. That was… a first for me.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. “I’m honored to be your first, then.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck but decide to match her playful tone. “What about you? I know you’re amazing with bikes, but what else is there to know about Natasha Romanoff?”

She takes a sip of her wine, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I wasn’t always a mechanic. I’ve had a few different jobs over the years, but I’ve always liked working with my hands. There’s something satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again.”

“Did you grow up around bikes?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Sort of,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "my father worked on bikes since I can remeber, but I learned a lot on my own, picked up skills along the way and after some years I was kinda stuck with it in his shop."

You nod, sensing there’s more to her story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. “I get that. I’ve never been big into them, but I can see the appeal. The way you talked about them, showed me around your shop… it made me see them differently.”

Natasha’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her eyes fades. “Less scary? I’m glad I could share that with you. I don’t usually open up about that stuff with just anyone.”

You nod, feeling comfortable and curious about discovering who Natasha really is, beyond the confident, flirty exterior.

“So,” Natasha says, breaking the silence with a smirk, “I have to ask… what made you say yes to this? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but still…”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely confident, I’ll give you that. But honestly? It’s because you’re… different. Not what I expected, in a good way.”

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was hoping I didn’t scare you off with the whole ‘let’s ride a bike together’ thing.”

“Not at all,” you say, meeting her gaze. “In fact, I think that’s what intrigued me the most. You challenge me, in a way that’s exciting. And I like that.”

Natasha holds your gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. “Good,” she says quietly. “Because I like it too.”

As the evening progresses, with ordered food, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your lives, your families, your dreams - sharing stories that are both funny and revealing. Natasha opens up about her past, hinting at the difficulties she faced growing up, while you share some of your own challenges. There’s a comfort in the way you can both be honest with each other, even if not every detail is fully revealed.

At one point, the conversation turns to your brother, and Natasha leans in, clearly curious. “So, what’s the deal with you and your brother? You two seem pretty close.”

You smile fondly. “We are. He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s always had my back.”

Natasha nods, her expression softening. “Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m grateful for him. And it looks like he likes you, so."

Natasha grins, the playful spark returning to her eyes. 'Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, though I think a 50% voucher to the shop might earn me some bonus points with him.

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Don´t worry, you’re in his good books. You ride a bike and you know everything about it, plus the voucher sounds amazing. Trust me, I´m the one who is on thin line here. He’s already convinced I’ve got a crush on you anyways, so…” You talk faster than you think.

Natasha arches an eyebrow, leaning closer. “And do you?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Maybe I do.”

Her smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and warmth. “I´ll take a maybe." You take another sip of wine, your heart racing in the best way possible.

Eventually, the dinner plates are cleared, and the conversation winds down. Natasha pays the bill, despite your protests, and then you’re back in the car, driving through the quiet streets. The tension that filled the air earlier has softened into something more comfortable, more familiar.

When she pulls up to your house, she turns to you with that mischievous smile that makes your pulse quicken. “So, did I live up to your expectations?”

You smile back, unbuckling your seatbelt. “More than that.”

She chuckles, clearly pleased. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you soon?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Definitely. And I´m paying next time!”

"I don´t think you will, but it´s cute that you´re figting for it." Natasha chuckles.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. When you pull back, her eyes are sparkling, and there’s a pleased smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you say softly, stepping out of the car. Even though the inside of your brain is just a big mess and your body is full of butterlfies that are buzzing through your body.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” she replies, watching every step of yours. You walk up to your front door, you glance back and see your brother peeking through the window again, grinning like a fool. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you give him a little wave before stepping inside. As soon as you close the front door your brother is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, with a grin that can only be described as infuriatingly smug.

“So…” he starts, drawing out the word with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How was it?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool as you kick off your shoes. “How was what?”

He snorts, clearly not buying your act. “The date. You know, the one you spent an hour agonizing over an outfit for? The one with the gorgeous redhead who just dropped you off?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you maintain a casual tone. “It was fine. We had dinner, talked… no big deal.”

“Oh, sure,” he says, nodding along in exaggerated agreement. “No big deal at all. That’s why you’ve got that goofy smile plastered on your face.”

You try to suppress your grin, but it’s no use. “Okay, fine. It was… great. Happy?”

“Very,” he says with a smirk. “But I need details. What did you guys talk about? Did she kiss you? Are you two going on another date?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his barrage of questions. “Slow down, detective. We just had a nice dinner and got to know each other better. And yes, we’re definitely going to see each other again.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No kiss, though?”

You pause, remembering the kiss you gave Natasha on the cheek before you got out of the car. “I´m not gonna discuss that with you."

“So that´s a yes. Ha! I knew it!” He points at you triumphantly. “So you like her. Like, really like her.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I do,” you finally admit, exasperated but still smiling. “But you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“Oh, but it is a big deal,” he says, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“You’ve never looked this happy after a date. I’m telling you, this Natasha is something special.”

You bite your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah… she really is.”

He watches you for a moment, his teasing grin softening into something more sincere. “I’m glad, you know. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his unexpected seriousness. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t get too mushy on me now,” he teases, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “Just… if she hurts you, I’ll break her bike.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think she’d rather face anything else than that.”

“Damn right,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’m happy for you, sis. Just remember, I still expect you to help me with my bike.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, go dream about your redhead,” he calls after you as you head up the stairs.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you think about Natasha.

…

It’s early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you arrive at Natasha’s shop. The garage door is partially open, you push it up and step inside, where you find Natasha already at work on a different bike. She’s focused, her hands busy, but when she sees you, her expression brightens instantly.

“Hey, didn’t expect you so early,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside as always. There’s a faint grease stain on her cheek, adding to her usual rugged charm.

You shrug, trying to appear casual despite the flutter in your chest. “I figured I’d take you up on your offer. Plus, I wanted to see how the bike’s coming along, of course.”

Natasha grins, nodding toward your brother’s bike. “Your brother’s baby is coming together nicely. A few more tweaks, and it’ll be as good as new.”

You walk over to examine the bike, but your attention keeps drifting back to Natasha. The shop is quieter than usual. As Natasha finishes up what she’s doing, you lean against the workbench, watching her with a mix of admiration and something deeper. She catches your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You bite your lip, then decide to be bold. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that ride we took… and how you said you don’t take just anyone out.”

She steps closer, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What about it?”

You smile, heart pounding. “I was wondering if that’s still true.”

Natasha chuckles, the sound low and warm, as she moves closer still. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, (Y/N). But what’s really on your mind?”

There’s a pause, a moment where you´re trying to calm your thoughts. You look up at her, realizing how close she’s standing, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of oil.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say quietly, “I think you know.”

For a split second, Natasha’s confident facade wavers, replaced by something more vulnerable. But then she smirks, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness that sends a thrill through you. “You sure about this?” she asks softly, her voice a low murmur that makes your breath catch.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And with that, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s gentle at first, testing the waters, but the moment your lips meet, it’s like a spark ignites. The kiss deepens, turning into something more intense, filled with all the unspoken tension and longing that’s been building between you this whole time.

Natasha lingers close, her forehead resting gently against yours, a smile playing on her lips. But then she pulls back just slightly, glancing down at her hands still resting on your waist. “I should stop before I get grease on you,” she murmurs, her voice teasing but with a hint of genuine concern.

You glance down at her hands, noticing the faint smudges of oil and grease, and can’t help but laugh softly. “A little grease never hurt anyone,” you reply, feeling warm all over, both from the kiss and from the way she’s looking at you.

Natasha chuckles, giving you a playful grin. “True, but I don’t want to mess up your clothes. You look too good for that.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, feeling a flutter in your chest at the compliment. “So do you, grease and all.”

She smiles wider, the expression softening into something tender as she gently brushes a thumb along your jaw, careful not to smudge any grease. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?” you tease, leaning into her touch

“Definitely a good thing,” she replies, her voice low and warm. There’s a comfortable silence, where the weight of the moment sinks in. But Natasha, being who she is, breaks it with a playful grin. “So, does this mean I get to take you on another ride?”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “As long as we make some more stops like this one.”

She chuckles, pulling you in for another quick kiss, this one softer, sweeter. “Deal.”

Just as you’re savoring the warmth of the moment, the shop bell jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer. Natasha glances over her shoulder, then back at you with a smirk. “Looks like I’ve got work to do.”

Before she steps away, she gives your waist a quick, playful squeeze, leaning in close to murmur, “I’ll be with you in a second, (Y/N). Don’t go anywhere.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying softness that makes your heart flutter.

With one last lingering look, she turns to greet the customer, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into professional mode. The customer, a man who looks like he’s in his mid-40s, nods at Natasha, holding a small bike that clearly needs some work. “Morning. Got a bit of a problem with my kid’s bike here.”

“No problem,” Natasha says, flashing him that easy smile. “Let me take a look.”

As she moves to inspect the bike, you can’t help but notice how her muscles flex with every movement, her toned arms and back on full display as she lifts the bike onto the workbench. She handles the machine with practiced ease, her focus entirely on diagnosing the issue. You watch, a little mesmerized by the way she works—effortless, strong, and undeniably attractive.

It’s only when Natasha finishes up with the customer that you realize you’ve been staring the entire time. She thanks the man and sees him off, then turns back to you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Catching the look on your face, she strides over, a teasing grin spreading across her lips. “Need me to grab you a rag for that drool?” she asks, leaning against the workbench with her arms crossed, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you manage to keep your composure. “I wasn’t drooling,” you protest, though the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

Natasha steps closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Sure you weren’t.” She reaches out to gently tap your chin with her finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But just in case, I’ll keep a rag handy for next time.”

You laugh, swatting her hand away lightly. "Ha ha ha, funny."

Natasha grins, clearly pleased with herself. “What can I say? I’m good at observing poeple.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “You’re also good at being a tease.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admits, her gaze never leaving yours. There’s a moment where the teasing drops, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “But seriously, I like seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in her tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice quieter now, more intimate. “Makes my day a little better.”

You frown playfully, "just a little better?"

She makes your chest tighten in the best way, "maybe a lot more than a little actually." Before you can respond, Natasha leans in, her breath warm against your cheek as she says, “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to kiss you again.”

Your breath catches, and you look up at her, eyes wide. “Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a slow smile.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you, and without thinking, you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that’s tender, sweet. Natasha responds immediately, pulling you closer, her hands firm on your waist.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, and Natasha’s smile is brighter than ever. “Now that’s how you shut me up,” she jokes, her voice still soft, tinged with affection.

You laugh, feeling light, like you’re floating. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your brother: “Hey, need a hand with something. SOS!" You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, your excitement tempered by responsibility.

Natasha notices the change in your expression and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

You nod, a little reluctantly. “Yeah, just my brother. He needs help with something. Guess I should head out.”

She offers a soft smile, understanding but with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small laugh. “Sorry to bail on you.”

“No worries,” she replies, her voice warm and reassuring. “Family first.” Natasha gives you one last quick kiss, her hands squeezing your waist, before stepping back. “Take care of your brother. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” you say softly, and with one last shared glance, you head out of the shop, already missing her presence.

When you get home, you find your brother lounging on the couch, his leg propped up with a couple of pillows. He grins when he sees you, clearly not in any dire situation.

“Sorry for interrupting your fun time with the redhead,” he teases, his tone light and playful, “but I really could use some help with this stupid remote.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Really? I rushed home for this?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” he says with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re the one who insisted on being so overprotective.”

“I-” you say, grabbing the remote and throwing it at him. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So I assume I ruined something nice, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious with Mrs. Redhead.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you just shrug. “And you ruined it.”

He laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh please, don´t tell me this is the last time you´re seeing her.”

It´s not, he knows it´s not. You do too. Everyone knows it is not.

“Now behave yourself, or I’ll leave you stranded next time.”

"Are you really just going to see her again?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I´m going to buy us some dinner, since you ate everything we had here!" He can´t help but chuckle a bit at your words.

…

It’s been a few days since your brother started walking without much pain, and he’s eager to visit Natasha’s shop to finally see his bike. You agree to take him, sensing that he’s also curious about the woman you’ve been spending so much time with.

When you arrive at the shop, Natasha greets you both with a warm smile. “Look who’s finally back on his feet,” she says, nodding at your brother.

“Yeah, feels good to walk again,” he replies, trying to sound casual, though you can tell he’s excited. “And to finally check on my bike.”

“Come on, I’ll show you what I did,” Natasha says, leading him to the back where the bike is stored. As they walk, you hang back slightly, watching them interact.

As they approach the bike, your brother takes in the sight of it, clearly impressed. “Wow, it looks brand new.”

Natasha grins. “Took some work, but it’s as good as ever. You’ll be back on the road in no time.”

He looks over at you for a moment, then back at Natasha, his expression turning a bit more serious. “Listen, Natasha, I like you. You seem like a good person, and it’s obvious my sister likes you too. But, I still have to do this.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, curious. “Do what?”

“The talk,” he says, crossing his arms. “If you hurt her, I will come and get you.”

There’s a brief pause as Natasha considers his words, then she glances down at his still slightly injured leg and smirks. “Sure you will,” she says with just the right amount of sarcasm.

Your brother chuckles, appreciating the banter. “Okay, fair point. But seriously, she’s my little sister. I’ve gotta look out for her.”

Natasha’s playful expression softens, and she nods. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I care about her a lot. I’d never hurt her.”

Your brother studies her for a moment, then finally gives a nod of approval. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hobble after you.” You laugh, stepping forward to join them. “You two done with your little standoff?”

Natasha chuckles, “I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

Your brother nods, "sooo when can I take my bike back home?"

"You can take it today if you´d like," this sentence makes you groan.

"Hell yeah!" Your brother states.

"Oh my god-" you exhale deeply.

"I´ll get it for you," Natasha smirks at you and goes to the back for the bike.

He winks at you, completely unfazed by your glare. “You should thank me for falling off the bike. Seems like it led to something good.”

Natasha chuckles softly as she overhear the conversation, clearly enjoying this. You resist the urge to smack your brother’s arm. “Don’t push your luck.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “You’re welcome, sis. I guess we are even now.”

Hehe thank you for reading!

[heartsriki]

Under the Autumn Leaves ⌇ 가을

pairing ᝰ nishimura riki x fem!reader ⌇ word count: 1.3k+

𓂃 after an embarrassing moment in class leading Riki to the infirmary, you guys finally have your first heart warming encounter.

⌇… warnings & genre ↺ fluff, school au, cussing, reader is a pushover and oblivious.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊ my first fic! I had sm fun writing this :) Hope you like it fr!

“You got everything done, right?” she asked, her tone sharp as she stood over you, arms crossed and a piercing glare fixed on your slouched figure.

You looked up from where you were seated on the bench, blinking. Looking away from her, you checked your surroundings, making sure no one was around. “I’m almost done, okay? Just have a few things to finish up.”

It was an everyday occurrence. Someone handed you work, and with zero compensation, you ended up doing it, wanting to live a peaceful school life.

“Hm. Okay then, turn it in as soon as you finish,” she murmured, walking away and eyeing her phone. The crinkle of the autumn leaves followed under her feet.

Sighing, you went back to work. Better to finish now than later, right? You were unaware of the schools notorious delinquent paying close attention to the whole situation. He was always around you, but somehow, you always failed to notice.

Riki scoffed. “For a smart kid, she sure is dumb sometimes.”

If someone were to ask you about Riki, you wouldn’t be able to say much. He was barely at school, but when he was, he was very intimidating yet popular. The only times you would interact were when you got seated next to him constantly to be a ‘good influence,’ but even then, he wouldn’t spare a word.

The bell to return to class rang through the courtyard. You packed up your things quickly and headed to class.

Riki walked into class late as always. As he searched around the classroom, he saw his seat that resided next to yours, but instead of seeing you focused and working as always, you were asleep.

His chest puffed up and down in frustration. Why was he getting so worked up over this random girl?

After an earful from the teacher, Riki sat down in his seat next to yours. He ignored you, surprised at how you hadn’t been caught sleeping yet.

Riki occasionally spared you glances until he examined the shine the sun gave your hair and how peaceful you looked when you weren’t swamped with work for once. Your lips glowed, and your eyebrows were furrowed. You just looked so goddamn beautiful. He gazed at you with conflicted feelings and saw a leaf that got caught in your hair. It was probably from you always sitting under that tree. Your usual spot.

Riki unknowingly reached for it, but that’s when you opened your eyes, squinting, revealing the scene in front of you. “Riki?”

He blinked and looked at his arm near your face. His breath got caught in his throat, which caused him to start coughing furiously.

Hand placed over his mouth, he started looking everywhere but you to cover up his embarrassment.

“Mr. Nishimura, is something wrong?” asked the teacher with concern.

“Yes. Can I go to the infirmary?”

“Go ahead, quickly.”

Riki quickly stood up, leaving without giving you another word.

You sat up with confusion. “What’s up with him?”

Class ended, but for some reason, Riki hadn’t come back since he left. You paid it no attention, though. Riki didn’t like it when people interfered with his business.

You were one foot out of the classroom until your name caught your attention. “L/N, could you please take Nishimura’s stuff to the infirmary?”

“Of course… I can,” you gave a fake smile.

Dragging your arms dramatically back to his desk, you started organizing the stuff into his bag. He took notes today… That’s odd.

You excused yourself and started walking to the infirmary. Seriously, what was the holdup? Is he sick—maybe he passed out? Paranoid thoughts flocked your mind until you came face to face with the door.

Sighing, you placed your hand on the doorknob until you looked through the window. Riki was sitting on the window sill, admiring the view it gave. You never took the time to look at Riki, but he sure is… handsome.

You knocked three times before entering with a shy smile. The look he gave you was as blank as ever. “Hey, Riki. I brought your bag. Is everything alright?”

His gaze followed your figure as you placed his bag on the bed next to him. “Did you take the notes?”

You blinked at him. “No worries, they’re in your bag—”

“Take them,” he whispered in a low, croaky voice, quickly looking away.

Confused, you checked his bag again and pulled out the notes. You skimmed them before realizing these notes were unfamiliar.

“You were asleep when she went over today’s instructions,” Riki looked down at his fingers and started fidgeting with them.

Scanning the notes again, you smiled. “You wrote these for me?”

“No! I mean—yes? I just didn’t want you to bother me about it later, okay?” he clarified quickly.

You felt an unfamiliar warmth in your cheeks and started giggling. Who knew Riki Nishimura, the cold and delinquent big shot, could be so cute?

Riki squinted at you from his perch on the window sill, his sharp gaze making you shrink slightly under its intensity. He started striding toward you, his demeanor making it clear he was about to give you a piece of his mind.

But then he stopped. His steps faltered as he tilted his head, a flicker of amusement breaking into his smile.

“Hold on—” he muttered, his voice laced with suppressed laughter. His hand reached up, plucking a crinkled leaf from where it had been sitting on your head.

Riki couldn’t hold it in anymore. His serious demeanor dissolved as a burst of laughter escaped him, the sound echoing through the room.

“You—how long has that been there?!” You hastily placed your hands over your hair, searching for another one.

Riki teasingly smiled at you, still laughing. “Ever since the courtyard.”

You scoffed. “You just notice everything, don’t you? Ugh, you are so insufferable.”

“Yeah, well,” he smirked, tossing the leaf aside, “you’ll get used to it, pretty.”

— BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Riki dragged himself to the infirmary, a cough still rattling in his chest. He muttered under his breath, “Shit—that was so embarrassing.”

With a sigh, he pushed open the door, only to come face-to-face with the doctor, who raised an eyebrow at his dramatic entrance.

“Nishimura. Long time no see,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair. “Another fight, huh?” He stood, crossing his arms as he studied Riki.

Riki groaned, flopping onto the bed. “No, no fight. I think I have heartburn. Just give me a pill or something.”

The doctor let out a hearty laugh. “Heartburn? You? Now this is new. What’s going on? Totally out of character.”

Riki huffed, turning his face toward the wall. “There’s this girl… Y/N.”

“Ah, I see.” The doctor’s grin widened as he turned to shuffle some papers on his desk.

“She’s so—”

“Infuriating?”

“Yes! And—”

“Stupid?”

“Not only that, but she’s also—”

“Pretty?”

“Yes—wait, what?” Riki whipped his head toward the doctor, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The doctor smirked knowingly. “I think that ‘heartburn’ you’re feeling is called butterflies, Nishimura.”

Riki rolled his eyes, hitting the pillow beneath his head to make himself more comfortable. “Yeah, no, that’s definitely not it.”

“Sure,” the doctor said with a teasing tone. “Stay here and calm down. I’ll tell your teacher to advise Y/N to come down here with your stuff.”

Riki sat up quickly, panic flashing in his eyes. “What? Wait, really—”

The doctor only flashed him a mischievous look before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Left alone, Riki’s nerves got the best of him. He sat up, pulled out his phone, and checked his reflection, fussing with his hair for a moment before realizing what he was doing. With a groan, he threw his phone aside and buried his face in the pillow, letting out a muffled sigh.

“I’m so screwed,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, utterly defeated.

[steddiealltheway]

I just BARELY made the deadline in my time zone, but I did it! This is for Lex's Summer Challenge, Dialogue prompt #25 :) Thank you @thefreakandthehair for organizing this!! <3

It's New Year's Eve, and Steve is not excited. 

The kids have all mostly agreed to stay together, setting off fireworks at the Wheeler's house. Robin has a band thing, meaning she will try to cozy up with Vickie but chicken out before the New Year's kiss. And Steve... he plans on checking in on Max who hasn't confirmed if she is going to Mike's. 

Things have been rough for her since Billy passed only a few months ago. She hates the trailer she had to move to, and as far as Steve can tell, her mom isn't around much. And if she is, she isn't sober. 

The worst thing is that Max doesn't open up to anyone, but there isn't much Steve can do about that. What he can do is drive to her place and bring her dinner. 

He goes about making her way too much spaghetti and makes the drive over. The sun is starting to go down, but he just hopes he can make it home in time to put on headphones and pass out before people start celebrating the new year.  

He just doesn't want to make it anyone else's problem that he no longer likes the look or sound of fireworks – flashes triggering migraines and memories of Russian torture – so he's put a plan in place. Luckily, everyone should be too busy with New Year's celebrations to pay him any attention. 

He pulls up to Max's trailer and parks outside, walking up to the door and knocking quickly. He waits a few seconds, listening for the sound of footsteps coming to the door, but they don't come. He pulls his jacket a little tighter around himself, shifts the tub of spaghetti from his left side to the right, and knocks again.  

After waiting a few minutes, Steve turns and notices the sun is now on the horizon. 

He glances around the trailer park, cursing himself for not bringing his walkie. His eyes land on a van at the trailer across the way that looks somewhat familiar. He notes that there are no negative thoughts that accompany looking at it, but rather, he feels a bit indifferent to it. 

He starts walking that way, hoping he knows the owner, and further hoping that they're nice enough to let him use their phone. He walks up the steps and knocks before stepping down. 

Luckily, this time he hears the sound of footsteps from inside and a bit of muffled cursing before the door swings open. 

Oh. That's how he knows the van. 

Eddie Munson looks down at him, totally bewildered, and shifts uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward the spaghetti while asking, "What are you doing here?" Before he can answer, Munson gets a look of realization and answers himself, "Right, my great supply." 

"No," Steve says quickly. "I just need to use your phone." 

Munson quickly stiffens again. "Why?" 

Steve sighs and shifts the tub again which has started to feel heavier with every passing moment. "My friend lives over there," he says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder, "And I need to check if she's okay." 

"No way," Munson says, hands coming up before he crosses his arms, "No way I'm letting you use my phone to call some hookup." 

"It's not a hookup. She's in middle school." 

"What?" Eddie asks, looking even more horrified. 

"Not like that!" Steve says and runs his free hand through his hair. "She's friends with a group of kids that I babysit." 

"And why do you want to call her?" 

Christ. "Because I'm worried about her, okay? She's not someone who asks for help, and she's not answering the door. I just need to know if she's safe at her friend's house." 

Eddie stares at him for a few more seconds then asks, "What’s the spaghetti for?" 

"Her." 

He's fixed with the same suspicious stare until Eddie finally nods his head and opens the door for Steve to come inside. Eddie gestures to where the phone is and leans back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms and watching his every move. 

Steve tries to shrug it off as he dials the Wheelers and waits for one of them to answer. 

"Hello?" 

Steve smiles and politely replies, "Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, it's Steve." 

"Oh, Nancy is currently-" 

"No, no," Steve cuts her off, seeing the way that Eddie is starting to tense up. "I wasn't calling about Nancy. I was just wondering if Max was there with the other kids. I stopped by to check on her, but she didn't answer the door." 

Steve can feel his heart thud in his chest as he waits for the reply. "That's very kind of you. But she's with the boys right now. Did you want me to pass a message to her?" 

"No," Steve says in relief. "No, I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. Happy New Year." 

"Happy New Year, Steve," she replies and hangs up. 

Steve puts the phone back and turns to Eddie. "Thanks, man. I owe you one." 

Eddie tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. "Why do you care about her so much?" 

Steve sighs and gestures toward the counter with the container of spaghetti in hand. "Can I?" Eddie nods in response, so Steve sets it down. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, "Do you remember Billy Hargrove?" 

Eddie scoffs, "Like I could forget the asshole." 

Steve nods. "Well, Max was his step-sister." 

"Oh," Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably. 

Steve shrugs. "They didn't have the greatest relationship, but she's been really closed off since...” he trails off uncomfortably, trying not to remember the moment he died. 

Eddie nods his head. “Right.” 

Steve nods back and gestures toward the spaghetti, changing the subject. “You can have that by the way as a thank you for letting me use your phone. I really appreciate it. And hey, Happy New Year.” 

Eddie’s jaw drops slightly as if he wants to say something but none of the words come out. So, Steve walks to the front door and opens it. He doesn’t even move a step down the stairs before a big firework lights up the sky as the loud noise rings out. 

Steve freezes. He feels his breathing getting shaky and shallow as he remembers the fireworks exploding on that spider looking thing’s back. 

He closes his eyes tight, trying to fend off the images, but the darkness only reminds him of the black that slowly devoured his vision when the Russians knocked him out.  

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice says, “I’ve got you.” 

Steve notices the way he’s somehow on the ground with his back pressed against something warm and that same heat wraps around his torso. He blinks back into reality a bit as warm hands run up and down his arms slowly. “You okay?” 

Steve sinks back into Eddie’s arms and closes his eyes. "Fireworks aren't exactly... my favorite thing." 

Eddie breathes out sharply through his nose. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.” 

Steve just nods, allowing himself to be comforted for a few seconds before he tenses up and begins to stand up. “Sorry,” he apologies as he makes his way back to the front door. “Don’t know what got into me.” 

He puts his hand on the door handle, moving his body to block Eddie’s view from his shaking hand. 

“Hey,” Eddie says close behind him, “Just stay until the fireworks stop. I don’t want you driving into my trailer on the way out or something.” 

Steve turns and asks, “Are you sure?” 

Eddie nods and gestures to the container. “Plus, there’s no way I can eat this whole thing on my own.” 

Steve is about to say that he’ll be fine when another firework goes off outside, startling him again. “Okay,” he agrees, wondering how the hell this is going to end up. Steve “The Hair” Harrington and Eddie “The Freak” Munson spending New Years together. 

Eddie hands Steve the container and grabs two bowls and forks before walking off. Steve follows behind him to what he assumes to be Eddie’s room, slightly confused about the change in scenery. 

“Sorry it’s a mess. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Eddie says awkwardly shoving things around. 

Steve just smiles as he looks at the room. “I like it. It feels comfortable,” he confesses. And it does. With the way his parents force him to keep a spotless room that never feels lived in, it’s nice to be in a bedroom that really reflects someone. 

Eddie considers him for a moment and just nods as he takes the container and sets it on his dresser alongside the bowls before pointing at his stack of tapes. “I’m going to guess our music taste isn’t really similar, but feel free to dig through for something you might like that’ll drown out the fireworks.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat at the thoughtfulness before he makes his way to the tapes, digging through several unfamiliar names that he kind of wants to ask about, but instead he can’t help but ask, “So, what are you doing alone on New Years?”  

Eddie scoops himself a generous amount of pasta as he answers, “Gareth is at a school thing, Jeff is with his family in New York, and Grant’s parents kind of don’t like me.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Eddie fixes Steve with a look. “I’m not exactly ‘meet the parents’ material, and it doesn’t help that I used to hold band practice in his garage and would play louder whenever they told us to quiet down.” 

Steve smiles. “I would love for you to do that to my parents. God, they would be so pissed.” He grabs another tape and instantly smiles and holds it up to Eddie. “I love Queen.” He immediately puts it into the cassette player and turns the volume up enough to block out additional noise while still being able to hear Eddie talk. 

He turns and finds Eddie handing him a bowl and fork with a soft smile on his face, “You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

Eddie nods and sits cross legged on his mattress. “Honestly, I thought you’d be an asshole. You know. King Steve and all that shit.” 

Steve runs a hand through his hair as he sits next to him. “I don’t think I’m ever going to live that down.” 

“You will if you get out of Hawkins,” Eddie says, shoveling a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. 

Steve twirls his pasta and stares at it. “I don’t know if I’ll ever leave here,” he confesses. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m not smart enough to make a living somewhere else. Plus, if I move, my parents likely won’t support me – my dad likes keeping me under his thumb. And the kids need me to drive them around.” And they need him in case Hawkins gets another dose of Hell, but he can’t tell Eddie that. “Plus, I don’t think there’s anywhere that would accept me, a former jock and asshole whose only friends are children and Robin. And they’re all so smart that they’ll eventually realize they’re dumb for keeping me around.” He stabs at his spaghetti before putting the bowl down and resting his head in his hands. “I don’t know, man.” 

There’s a pause, and Steve hears a dull thud from a firework outside the trailer even over the music that startles him a bit. It’s so damn annoying that something small like this can reduce him to this. 

“Run away with me.” 

Steve head slowly comes up. “What?” 

Eddie wipes his mouth and sets his bowl on his side table. “Run away with me,” he repeats. “After I graduate, I’m going to run like hell out of here. Come with me to find a place that accepts a former jock and a...” he trails off and looks away nervously. “Uh, a freak,” he awkwardly fills in. 

The bowl in Steve’s hand suddenly feels like it’s in the way, so he sets it on the floor before turning to Eddie and leaning closer to him, hands itching to reach out. “Come on, you can tell me what you were really going to say.” 

Eddie searches his eyes before laying back on his bed dramatically, trailing his hands over his face. “You know what I was going to say. You’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has.” 

Steve has heard several rumors about Eddie, including one about how he worships the devil and does satanic rituals on top of his trailer in the middle of the night. But he has a feeling he knows which rumor he’s talking about. “Yeah, but rumors are rumors for a reason. You never know which ones are true.” 

Eddie sighs and looks up at Steve. He looks like he’s on the verge of telling him before he asks, “So, why aren’t you with your friends tonight? The kids or Robin.” 

He looks down at Eddie for a few moments, wondering if he’ll drop the question, but he holds his ground. Steve shrugs. “Robin is at the thing with all the band kids, chickening out with her crush, and the kids don’t want their babysitter around. Plus, they want to launch fireworks or play Dungeons and Dragons or something.” 

Eddie perks up and sits up on his elbows. “Dungeons and Dragons? The kids you babysit play that?” 

“Yeah. And don’t make fun of them for it. They talk about it all the time, and I think it sounds cool,” Steve says, always quick to defend Dustin even if he’s into weird nerdy shit. 

Eddie sits up entirely and looks at Steve excitedly. “You think Dungeons and Dragons is cool?” he asks in disbelief. 

Steve shrugs in response. “It’s not really my thing, but yeah.” 

“Dude, I’m the leader of Hellfire. You know, the Dungeons and Dragons club at school? What are the kids' names?” 

“Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.” 

Eddie bounces up and down excitedly. “Holy shit, I thought Dustin was kidding when he said he was friends with you.” 

It suddenly clicks, Dustin had mentioned Eddie’s name before, but Steve had never really thought about it as Eddie Munson of all people. “Shit, Dustin talks about you all the time, I just never connected the dots.” 

“He doesn’t shut up about you. The kid adores you. He’d kill me if I took you away from here.” 

“And he’d kill you if you ever left.” 

Eddie smiles and nudges Steve. “Looks like we’re both stuck here.” 

Steve smiles back at him, eyes tracing over Eddie’s face. He’s not sure why he’s never really noticed him before. He guesses he’s always been so stuck in his own shit that Eddie just kind of passed him by somehow. But he’s finally noticing his dimples, and the way his eyes are so deeply brown and easy to get lost in, and his lips looks so full and- 

Eddie lightly shoves him back, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks, “Eat your spaghetti before it gets cold.” 

Steve grabs his bowl and does as he’s told, watching as Eddie gets up to turn up the music a little louder. When he sits back on the bed, the two eat in comfortable silence, letting the music fill the space. Steve’s not sure if he’s ever been able to warm up to someone so quickly, but it makes sense that he’d be able to bond with someone who loves Dustin. 

The song ends and goes into the next. Steve finishes his last bite of spaghetti and laughs as “Somebody to Love” starts playing. He puts his bowl down and lays back on the bed, letting the song wash over him. He sings the lyrics under his breath until he hears Eddie doing the same thing and turns to look up at him. They lock eyes just in time to sing, “Can anybody find me somebody to love?” 

Eddie laughs and lays next to him joining him through the rest of the song. Steve feels ridiculous, but Eddie makes a show of playing air guitar, yelling, “I know how to play this!” Steve just laughs and watches him, feeling his heart beat a little faster in a way it hasn’t for somebody else in a while. 

He sings the rest of the song, mainly focusing on Eddie and the way he so easily gives into the music, unafraid of what Steve might think. As it comes to an end, Steve feels something shift inside him, but Eddie is quick to laugh, “Steve Harrington how can you be struggling to find somebody to love?” 

Steve smiles sadly. “I think I’ve been looking in the wrong place all along, but I’ve been starting to think that maybe I’m unlovable.” 

Eddie scoffs and moves closer to him. “If you think you’re unlovable then there’s no hope for the rest of us.” 

Steve has to move closer to hear him over the music and talk without shouting. “Does that include you?” 

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, tilting his head with a curious smile. 

“I think,” Steve starts, unsure of how he’s going to finish the sentence, “If there’s no hope for you either, then maybe...” 

“Maybe?” Eddie prompts. 

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips. “Maybe...” He looks up at Eddie’s eyes, seeing the confusion, slight fear, and hope. “Maybe you should finish what you were going to say earlier.” 

“Steve...” Eddie says, “You can’t be asking me...” 

“Then, I’ll ask you. Is it midnight yet?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Not even close.” 

“What if I lie and say that it is so I can ask you for a New Years kiss?” Steve asks boldly. 

Eddie’s breath hitches. “Then, I’d say yes and start counting down from ten.” 

“Nine,” Steve says immediately. 

“Eight,” Eddie replies, shifting onto his knees. 

“Seven.” Steve scoots closer, leaning in to brush their noses together. 

“Six,” Eddie exhales. 

“Five.” Steve’s hands come up to hold onto the back of Eddie’s head. 

“Four.” Eddie’s hands press into Steve’s back to bring him closer. 

“Three.” Steve tilts his head, already brushing his lips against Eddie’s, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Two,” Eddie whispers, hands gripping on tighter, left hand tracing up between his shoulders to slot their torsos together. 

“One,” Steve says, barely finishing the word as he presses his lips against Eddie’s, finally ending the longest countdown of his life. 

He deepens the kiss immediately, tasting spaghetti and a hint of something that is purely Eddie which he finds entirely intoxicating. 

The music fades from one song into the next, and Steve’s pretty sure a firework goes off in the silence, but he’s too distracted by Eddie to really respond to it. He feels Eddie’s arms tighten around him, slowly guiding him down to lay back on the bed. 

Eddie breaks the kiss to look down at Steve. “This okay?” he asks. 

Steve nods and says, “Happy New Year.” 

Eddie smiles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Happy fucking New Year.” 

He finally understands why people cheesily talk about fireworks going off during a kiss. And maybe even with everything, fireworks aren’t too bad if this is what he can associate them with. 

[macfrog]

mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

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[provide-milk]

Do You Know What You're Doing To Me?

Pt 1

Summary: You're down bad for Ford Pines and believe that he will never reciprocate your crush. Little do you know what's truly on his mind. That's how you find yourself in expensive lingerie, waiting for the time to go by.

Notes: Inspired by @chillinglyadventurous! Go check out their work! Specifically inspired by "Sneaking Around."

WARNING! ⚠️MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+⚠️

You paced the floor of your kitchen anxiously while wearing a short slip dress with expensive lingerie underneath that you had bought just for the occasion. You kept turning on your phone to check the time. 

“Come on…” 

It was the first time you and Ford were going to be alone together for such a long period of time. Your somewhat innocent flirting seemed to have snowballed into whatever this was. When you had first seen him walk out of that portal you were immediately smitten. He walked with an air of confidence (and somewhat arrogance), it enchanted you. But you thought he was too old for you. Why would he take a second look at a girl who was barely turning 29? You thought your crush was a lost cause for sure and tried to not put any hope on it.

You thought.

As you checked out the silver fox everytime he walked into the room, you decided why not try at least to gain his attention. 

“Ford!” You exclaimed as he walked into the gift shop.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. God he was so fine.

“Yes?”

“Can you help me organize these postcards?”

He looked at you a bit confused as to why you would need help at such a simple task, but nonetheless obliged, walking over to you. Your heart was already pounding out of your chest just at his look. 

“Please just bend me over right now.” you thought to yourself.

As he helped you organize the postcards you brushed up against his arm slightly with your torso. 

“I’m sorry.” you choked out,definitely not as smooth as the way you intended. You saw him tense up

“It’s no problem…” he responded rather quietly.

Dammit, that did not go as planned.

You sighed and reached for a card, not paying attention to the fact that Ford was reaching for the exact same one. You grabbed his hand absentmindedly. 

Oh shit.

You looked up at Ford to see him staring at your hand on top of his. You both froze and was that… redness across his cheeks? No, you had to be seeing things.

“I’m so sorry.” You managed to stutter out once again.

This time Ford did not respond and instead pulled his hand away quickly.

“I think you got all the help you need now.” 

You watched as he walked in the opposite direction, wanting to bang your head against the cash register. Meanwhile you were unaware of the fact that Stanely was watching this all go down. He went towards you and leaned against the cash register as you tried to collect yourself. 

“I didn’t expect you to like older men like that.” Stan joked with a cheeky grin.

“I do not!” You exclaimed.

“Oh don’t lie to me kid. I’ve seen that look in your eyes from tons of women back in my day. I know what it means.”

You took a deep breath. “Ok and so what. I might have a little crush on-”

“My twin brother who’s way too old for a young girl like you.” Stanley interrupted.

,It’s just an innocent crush. It’s no biggie.”

He looked at you distrustfully. “Well just know that nothing is gonna come from it. Don’t get your hopes up. Point-dexter over there only cares about his work and I like to think he has enough morals not to date a young girl like yourself.”

“Ok Stan…” You replied, disappointedly.

After that day, you swore the energy between Ford and you shifted. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. Both of you would catch each other gazing at one another and would quickly turn your heads. Ford and you somehow kept ending up in close proximity, whether that was sitting next to each other in the back seat on trips to the store or “accidentally” bumping into one another or grazing each torsos barely. These slight touches drove you wild and at night you would repeat them over and over again in your head, hoping that somehow they had some type of meaning. He began to give you soft smiles as evidence that he noticed you in the room. 

One day as you were cleaning, preparing for the tourists coming in, Ford gave you that soft smile of recognition, you replied with a good morning.

In his gruff morning stricken voice, he replied, “Good morning dear.” Before walking away nonchalantly and that was enough to drive you crazy for the rest of the day. 

One day you decided to push your luck.

He leaned against the wall as he told you a story about when he encountered a multibear for the first time. It had 6 heads? No, that wasn’t right. Maybe 7? 5? You could hardly pay attention to his tale, as you were enraptured by the animated way he was talking to you with glee across his face. You’d never seen him like this before. It seemed that he was slowly getting more comfortable about you. You touched his shoulder gently, as you giggled as he impersonated the bear.   

“You’re so charming Ford.”

Oh shit. You said that out loud. 

You saw Stan from the other side of the room whip his head around to give you a frown. 

You looked up at Ford to see him rubbing the back of his neck with his hand with a look on his face that showed that he was deep in thought.

“I’ve never been called that before but… I suppose I can be.”

Well, you were already testing the waters. Might as well go in the deep end.

You leaned in a little closer, your hand leaving his shoulder to his bicep.

“Oh Ford, you’re more than charming to me.” You said softly, this time in a more flirtatious manner.

Ford froze completely and you could see the blood rushing towards his face.

“Ah… I-”

“Alright sweetheart, enough talking with sixer. Why don’t you-uhhh- wipe the cash register. Yeah! That’s a good idea!” Stan butted in, grabbing you away by the hand. Ford awkwardly walked away, a blush still evident on his face.

“What are you doing?” Stan exclaimed quietly towards you.

“What do you mean?” You asked innocently.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!” Stan took a deep breath. “Look…I don’t mind you having a crush on point-dexter over there, but let's keep the flirting to a minimum.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh Ford, you’re more than charming to me!” Ford mocked in a high pitched voice.

“I was just complimenting him, jeez…”

“I don’t know what you’re plotting in that mind of yours, but whatever you’re thinking, stop it. You’re only gonna disappoint yourself. Go find some guy your own age instead of some narcissistic old geezer.”

“Ugh! Fine! I’ll leave him alone from now on…”

Stan gave you a pat on the back, “That’s my girl.”

But how were you supposed to stop when the tables began to turn.

You noticed for the past few days Ford was walking into the gift shop much more than usual after what you said. He would come over to tell you story after story of his adventures across dimensions. You began to look forward to them and they became a routine at a point. One day as he was talking, he stopped himself mid sentence.

“And that’s when I said…” He looked you up and down, his mind going off track. “Wow, you’re looking beautiful today.”

You somehow contained the squeal that you wanted to let loose in that moment.

“Well Ford, you’re always looking handsome.” You quipped back.

Instead of freezing like before, he gave you a wink. A wink!

You felt like your head was spinning after that interaction.

After that, flirtatious comments became part of the routine as well (hidden from Stan’s ears of course). As Ford was telling you yet another story, he leaned in closer to you.

“You know… I could show you some of what I’m writing if that’s ok with you?”

It felt like the wind was knocked out of your chest.

“I’d love that.”

And that’s how you found yourself in Ford’s underground laboratory. You stood near Ford as he sat down in his chair, flipping through the pages and explaining things to you. 

“And look at this-” He said pointing at a drawing before pausing to look up at you.

“What?”

“Oh it’s nothing…” He responded, quickly looking away. “It’s just that.. You’re really close to me right now.”

Fuck, now was your move for real this time.

“And why is that a problem?”

“Oh it’s not a problem…It’s just that-”

You lowered yourself to look him in the eyes, “Ford… Let’s stop ignoring the elephant in the room.”

“Elephant in the room? Ahh… You seem to be mistaken! I-”

“Ford. Please.” You pleaded with begging eyes. “I can’t keep living like this…” Your eyes went to his lips and it was not unnoticed by Ford. “I need you.”

Ford was completely stunned and at a loss for words. You leaned in closer to him, your faces just centimeters away from each other’s. Ford took a deep breath.

“You know I’m way too old for you dear.” He said barely above a whisper.

“I know.” Your eyes on his lips still. 

“And that I only care about my work.”

“I know”

“And that I have a lot of… issues..”

“I know”

“And that-”

You kissed him softly but quickly, barely giving him enough time to register what just happened. It was silent, the only sound being both of your breathing which was getting deeper and deeper. Ford became silent for what felt like forever, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts, thinking about his next move meticulously. 

“Oh the hell with it.”

You both were overcome with passion in that moment, immediately reaching out for one another. Your lips meshed against his and Ford’s hands went straight towards your hips, pulling you onto his lap roughly, making you straddle him. You both moaned softly into each other’s mouths. You could hardly keep up with Ford as he mercilessly kissed you. You were taken aback how firmly he was kissing you and how his hands began to slide up the inside of the hem of your shirt. You felt like the parts of your body under his fingertips were on fire. You loved it. You loved feeling him indulge in his desire that he had tried to hold back so desperately. 

He forced his tongue inside your mouth and you groaned as you began to suck on it.You could feel the heat pool between your legs and you began to grind yourself against Ford. It’s not like he was any better though. You felt his growing erection against the inside of your thighs. Your body tingled as his hands went higher and higher until his fingers were slowly creeping under the straps of your bra.

“Ford.” You gasped, finally pulling your lips away from his.

You looked down at Ford. His chest was heaving, skin flushed, and hair messed up. God, he looked sexy. He seemed to gain consciousness a few seconds later and quickly removed his hands from under your shirt.  

“Shit…” He whispered, almost to himself. “I didn’t-fuck-mean to go that far. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-.”

“Can I suck you off?” You said between pants.

Ford looked entirely taken aback, blinking at you blankly.

“...What did you say?”

“Can I suck you off?” You replied, this time more confidently.

He combed his hand through his hair and you could tell he was tempted. Talk about kicking a man while he’s already down.

“Sweetheart… This was already more than enough. We really shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place.”

“But Ford…” You grinded against his erection. He groaned in response. “I can tell you want this. We both want this.”

Ford was mesmerized by your eyes which were darkened with lust. It was a sight he thought he would only be able to dream about.

“This is insane…” he muttered. “I think we should end here.” He started to stand up, picking you up before placing you down. 

You looked at him with pleading eyes, “Please Ford.”

He was ashamed by the way his dick twitched in response and took a defeated sigh, “You should be getting back to work now. I’ve kept you down here long enough…”

He sat back down, avoiding eye-contact with you, but his face was still a slight shade of pink. 

“Fine.” You muttered before leaving the lab, still in a daze from what just happened, almost bumping into the wall. 

When you were out of sight, Ford looked down at his unrelenting boner. He grunted as he hesitantly placed his six fingers against it and palmed himself. He felt like he was fighting demons as his hand reached towards his zipper bit by bit. He smacked his own hand, having both of them fall to his side. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Dear Lord, does she even know what she’s doing to me?”  

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter VI)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Stupid kids.

Little note: Carol and Nick is still alive.

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Not so angsty anymore🥹

July 22, 2022:

It was almost six weeks later that Bradley became suspicious.

They both hadn’t spent much time together since the last time, and he wanted to make up for lost time with his wife. So he decided to take a day off and make breakfast while you were still in bed.

He whistles as he makes the pancakes, turning around every now and then to check the coffee on the stove the way you like it. He puts the missing dishes on the tray, completing the breakfast you’ve been making for years; maple syrup, coffee, pancakes, hash browns, and toast.

He jots down the note, “I’ll always love you :).”

He hears you coming down the stairs and mentally prides himself on his perfect timing, quickly organizing everything and turning toward the door frame that separates the kitchen from the living room.

You enter the scene as he scratches his tangled nest of hair and tries to adjust the pj's that have been tossing and turning throughout the night, his face is imprinted with pillows and Bradley feels like he’s going to faint from how beautiful his wife is.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Hm.” You just smile, you don’t like talking to anyone when you’re barely awake and he knows that so he doesn’t force you.

You open your eyes and stop in your tracks when you see your breakfast, looking at your husband with a small smile and a blush on his face.

“Oh, Bradley!”

“It’s been a long time since we had breakfast together.” He mutters and you settle between his legs (you sat down so you could eat with him) and walk over to him to take his face in your hands, placing small kisses on his sparsely stubbled face and lips.

You sit down and the two of you start eating, chatting from time to time.

He looked proud of himself as he watched you eat pancakes with maple syrup, but you tasted the coffee and spit it back into the cup.

"Hey! Why did you do that?" He asks you with a hurt expression on his face.

"I'm sorry honey, but it tastes awful." 

You reply with a grimace as you pour yourself a glass of apple juice to drink it all down.

Bradley takes your coffee from you and takes a sip; it tastes perfectly normal, very good if he has to admit, but he decides to leave you alone and let you continue with a glass of apple juice.

You were happily continuing to eat, of course, until you popped a small piece of egg yolk into your mouth.

Bradley doesn’t have time to complain when you’re throwing up in the sink anyway.

He quickly drops his coffee and walks over to you, grabbing your hair and patting your back until you pull yourself together, wiping your face with the sleeve of his shirt as he looks at you.

“I don’t feel so good.” You mumbled with a pout that made Bradley’s heart ache.

“It’s okay, honey.” He pulls you into his chest. “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll put everything aside and join you as soon as I can.”

You nod and look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I messed this up.”

He smiles sadly as he brushes his sweaty hair from his forehead. “You didn’t mess anything up, to be honest, I was really looking forward to staying in bed with you.”

You leave and ten minutes pass while Bradley gets breakfast, maybe saving it for later. He’s washing the cups when he notices something while one of them drying in the sink.

He picks up his phone with his half-dried hands and opens the conversation he had with his mother a week ago.

"Everything is fine honey. Your cousin is pregnant and can't handle eggs and coffee so we're taking care of her now. Kisses, honey, I love you and Y/N!! 💕💞😘"

Eggs and coffee.

Eggs.

Coffee.

He grips the marble countertop as he tries to catch his breath.

Could it be..?

God, he's going to faint at the thought.

He couldn’t believe he had such a good memory to remember such a mundane message between his mother and him.

You run your hand over your face as you trie to come back to reality if she’s pregnant…or not..

Damn it, you can’t think straight, and if it wasn’t for Duke jumping on the counter and barking in your face, then you’d still be going crazy.

You turn off the faucet and run upstairs, ignoring Bradley's fuzzy nerves as he enters your shared bedroom, you stare at him in fear.

“Take a pregnancy test.” That’s all he says, and you get out of bed in confusion.

“What?” You ask, approaching him. “Are you okay? You look pale.” You cup his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” He responds excitedly, letting you examine his face.

“Just, please, you have to.”

“Okay, I’ll do it and you’ll calm down.” He looks into your eyes and nods. “Come on.”

Bradley can barely control himself as you pee on four sticks to make sure, wandering the bathroom and bedroom until you come out.

“We need to wait five minutes, do you want to explain what’s going on?”

You both sit on the bed and hold his hands to comfort him, which does the trick.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but do you remember when my mom told me Marienne was pregnant and couldn’t stand eggs nor coffee?”

“Yeah.” You answer, and your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh my god. What do you think..”

“I don’t know.” Bradley shakes his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know.”

The minutes pass and the both of you gets crazier and crazier; You feel like you're going to tear your hair out in desperation, and Bradley wants to throw up again for the tenth time as he playes with his rings.

There has to be something else, he doesn’t even know how to take care of babies, was it his paternal instinct? no, this is stupid, maybe he’s not going to be a father and he’s just going crazy.

He’s an idiot, now your hopes are up and he doesn't want to have to see the look of disappointment on your perfect face again.

So lost in his thoughts that he doesn't notice you get up from behind him to re-enter the bathroom, slowly reappearing with four tests in your hands, unable to take your eyes off them as you mumble;

“Positive.”

Bradley raised his head as soon as he heard you, his eyes met your now teary ones and he stood up, approaching you, ypu are showing him all the positive lines that showed your baby growing inside you. His fucking wife is pregnant.

You put them down and throw yourself into your husband's arms, clinging to each other, making you both fall backwards onto the bed.

You cry into Bradley's chest while he cries into yours.

You feel like you're going to faint from the tears and sobs pouring out of both of your bodies, a tremendous happiness fills your entire body as millions of things go through your head. Same for him too.

Bradley talks to pregnant women's bellies, Bradley holds a small chubby baby, Bradley plays the piano with a small child, Bradley rocks a baby, Bradley and your babies will be like this.

Sooner or later, it would all come true.

Meanwhile, Bradley is still crying as if he's never cried in his life, you're sitting with him in your arms and he moves his hands between them to rest on your belly. "There's a baby inside," he says, his voice breaking.

You laugh and lean your forehead against his. "There's a baby inside."

Both of you look at each other, your eyes fill with tears and you both start laughing, you kiss, ignoring the salty taste of teardrops. You kiss, trying to convey everything that cannot be expressed in words to each other, but now there is someone who proves that their love is possible.

"A perfect blend of us,there it is." Bradley's and yours belly felt like there were fireworks inside. He can't wait to sing and play the piano to his love's growing belly, to hold that tiny hand.

He just can't wait.

"I love you." He sees the tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you part your lips. "I love you Bradley, we did it."

"We did it." He repeats, squeezing your waist between his hands. "We did it, we're having a baby, I told you."

"I can't believe you found out because I threw up your breakfast."

"Because you would never throw up something I make, I'm an incredible chef."

Both laugh again and Bradley flips both of you over, laying you between him and the bed, laughing at the kisses he spreads across your face, neck, and lifting the robe slightly to reveal the soft skin of your belly. 

It was keeping his baby warm in there.

Duke seems to notice the happiness that is coming from the room, he climbs into bed and cuddles up to his mother’s chest, who is happily caressing Bradley's hair and cheeck's.

Bradley kisses the area on your belly as you stroke Duke's scalp, and his tears continue to flow when he sees you talking to Duke about the baby.

He whispers something, but you and maybe someone else can hear him clearly.

“Welcome home, baby. You are already loved.”

“Yeah, I always wanted to have your stupid children.”

THEY MADE IT🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

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[sturniozo]

Tutor

Chris x reader

Summary - Chris needs to get his grades up to be able to stay on his schools hockey team, and who better to tutor him than his brothers best friend, who he also has a little crush on.

AN: I want this to be a series but that all depends on how this first part goes over. I didn’t want to write something really long just for it to flop lol so that’s why this is so short lol. But please tell me if you like it so I know whether or not to put out more of it! Xoxo-Angel

masterlist

NOT PROOFREAD

Y/n’s pov

I’ve known Nick for 5 years, and Chris only 4. I never did hang around Chris one on one, I just mostly hung out with Nick. But I knew enough about Chris to know I liked him.

I was always too nervous to hang around Chris one on one. Just being in a room with him at all made my heart race. I could barely think around him sometimes.

I knew his grades weren’t the best either. So it came to no surprise to me when Nick was begging me to tutor Chris so he’d shut up about not being able to play hockey anymore. I still don’t know why I agreed.

I don’t want to sound conceded, but I understand why Nick went to me. I know I’m smart, I have perfect grades, I’m in AP classes, as well as having skipped a grade and I’m on track to graduate two years earlier than most people do. But I was still stupid enough to agree to tutor a guy I could barely even form words around. How am I supposed to tutor Chris if I can’t even breathe near him?

So here I am, pacing in my room. Going over my notes for the classes Chris is failing, which is basically all of them. He’s going to be here any minute. I made sure my bedroom was nice and neatly cleaned, and that my notes were organized and readable. Then I hear the dreaded knock on my door.

I walk down the stairs and to my front door. I open the door and am greeted by Chris. Butterflies flood my stomach. Chris smiles at me and holds up a flower. Butterflies part two.

“What’s this for?” I ask, trying to suppress the blush creeping up on my cheeks. Chris shrugs.

“It’s a thank you. For tutoring me.” He says. I step to the side so he can come into my home and I close the door behind him.

“It’s mostly for Nick. He kept begging me.” I reply and lead him upstairs to my bedroom. I sit down at my desk and motion him to sit in the seat next to me. Once he does I pull out the notes. “Okay, what class do you want to start with?” I ask. Chris shrugs. I look at him, and notice he didn’t bring any notes or textbooks of his own. “Where’s your stuff?” I ask.

“What stuff?”

“Your school stuff. Your notes, your textbooks.”

“I don’t have any.”

“What?” I ask, shocked. “Why don’t you have any?”

Chris shrugs again. “I never needed them.”

“I think we just found out how you’re failing.” I pull out the notes from our algebra class. “Okay so the next algebra test is on Friday, which means we have about a week to get you prepared for- are you even listing?” I look over at Chris and he’s smiling at his phone. “Chris did you hear anything I said?”

Chris looks up at me. “Sorry I got distracted, what did you say?”

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t pay attention.”

“I’m trying to. This is just boring.”

“You aren’t trying very hard.”

“No, you’re right I’m not. Let’s blow this off and go do something else.” Chris looks at me and smiles, waiting for my answer.

“What, are you serious?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You want to leave?”

“Yeah. Can you drive? I walked here.” Chris starts to stand up.

“Chris you can’t go, you’re failing almost all your classes. You’ll be off the hockey team.” I remind him.

“I’ll get the test answers from a kid at school. C’mon let’s go. I want Subway.” He ushers me to get up.

“You can’t cheat, Chris!”

“Sure I can, let’s go! Isn’t subway your favorite?”

How did he know that? “Well… it is but Chris we-“

“How about, we go get subway, then we come back and study?”

“Subway, then you’ll definitely study?” I ask. Chris nods. I bite my lip and sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

[hazybisou]

❛ OH BABY, BABY ❜

🎧 🎸 every single little moment, every single little sunshine

summary - when walking the streets of Michigan, you never know what to expect. maybe that’s why y/n never expected for a little boy to literally run into her with his fine ass cute father behind him.

pairing - f!reader x single dad!quinn hughes

side note - dad quinn 😻😻 that’s all i got to say as of now. my mans so fine 😍😍 (this takes place during the summer so about right now)

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

the slight breeze blew through her hair as she hugged her zip up closer to her body and grabbing the hood, putting it on over her head slightly. y/n had decided the weather was warm but windy enough to go outside and take a walk and get some fresh air. she had the day off from her job as a social media photographer for the Detroit Tigers.

y/n loved her job. she knew the second she saw her sister take part in sports photography that’s what she wanted to do. she took an internship during her junior year at the University of Michigan and once she had graduated, she had applied for the job as one of the photographers for the Detroit Tigers. two days after her interview, she had gotten an email form the organization saying she had gotten the job. since then she had been working with the MLB organization.

the young woman had just turned the corner and made her way into a local park in Michigan. her hand made its way into her pocket and pulled her phone out. she grabbed her earphones out of the other and connected them to her phone before placing them in her ears. she quickly swiped and clicked on spotify before she began to hear the lyrics to ‘Stay Ready’ by Jhene Aiko as she slid her phone into her pocket once again.

the music seemed to block out the noises of the children’s laughter and giggling as they slid down the slide or swung on the swing, being pushed by their parents or siblings or other children. the noise of the cars passing by and their honking were muffled.

she began to think about her life here in Michigan and if she were to stay her the rest of her life. find the one, have kids, grow old. the idea seemed nice in her head but she knew things may never go her way as god had other plans for her.

y/n suddenly felt something hit her leg. she heard a little ‘oof’ and a thud and looked down to see a little boy with brown, wavy hair on the ground. she took her earphones out and placed them in her pocket where her phone was.

she kneeled down to the little boys height and helped him get up. “are you okay?” her eyes scanned his small figure to check for any injures.

“i sorry.” the little voice made her melt. she always had a soft spot for kids. “i didn’t mean to.”

y/n smiled. “i know you didn’t, it’s okay.” she looked around for his father or mother or anyone who might’ve known him. “where your mom?”

he shrugged.

“your dad?” she tried and the boy turned around and pointed towards the way he came from.

“he’s over there.” he told y/n and she looked behind him to see a man with a slight subtle and neatly styled hair looking around frantically.

he was cute.

“what’s your name?” she asked the little boy who looked up at her with big doe eyes.

“roan.” he stated proudly with a grin on his face. “what’s yours?”

her smile turned into a small laugh. “y/n.”

she saw the little boys hand extend. she placed her hand in his and he placed a quick kiss to it and let out a ‘mwah’ as he did so.

“aw how cute.” y/n cooed as she let out a small giggle.

roan leaned in forward. “daddy says when’s pretty girl is around, to kiss her hand when you meet her.” he explained. “you a pretty girl.”

“your dad seems like a wonderful person.”

roan nodded. “he is.”

she looked at him and finally wondered if his father had figured out he was over here with her. her question was answered when she heard the padding of feet get closer but slow down as they neared. she saw the legs of a person behind roan and looked up to find the man she saw earlier looking down at his son. he kneeled down to be eye level with roan.

“roan, i thought i told you to stay next to me.” the man scolded the little boy who looked up at the man while squinting his eyes at the sun.

“i sorry daddy. but i wanted to go play! you promised.” roan exclaimed with his arms up.

quinn shook his head. “don’t do that again, okay? you scared me.”

“ok.” roan whispered as he wrapped his arms around his dad. quinn took the little boy into his arms and y/n watched with adoration in her eyes as she stood up.

the pair pulled away and quinn stood up while roan went and stood by y/n’s side, grabbing her hand and holding it. “daddy i made a friend!” he exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice.

quinn looked down towards her. holy was she beautiful. her smile was warm and gave him a welcoming feeling. he never experienced that from anyone other than his own mother.

“hi, i’m y/n!” she held her hand out for quinn to shake with a smile on her face.

he took it in his own and shook it slightly. “quinn.” he let go of it and watched as she put it down. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.” she looked down at roan and shook their hands that were still held together . “roan here happened to run into me.”

“did he now?” quinn looked at the young boy who smiled sheepishly. “well i hope he said sorry.”

roan just nodded his head. “ i did. like you told me to.”

y/n laughed. “he was such a gentleman.” she looked at quinn. “roan’s a sweet boy.”

quinn’s eyes softened. “i’m guessing i raised him right if he was called a gentleman by a pretty lady like yourself.” the words left his mouth before he could even stop them. “i didn’t mean it like that, well like i did, but not like that. you’re very pretty-”

y/n let out a small chuckle. “it’s ok, i know what you meant.” she stood there for a second. “you’re pretty hot, you know that?”

quinn felt himself blush and turn red. “oh, um, thank you.” he looked down at his watch and his eyes widened as he noticed he would be late to dinner with his family if he didn’t leave now. “oh i am very sorry but we have to go and get ready.” quinn reached down and picked roan up before settled him on his hip. “do you think i can i get your number?”

“no, i’m sorry.”

quinn’s smiled faltered slightly. “oh it’s fine-”

“but can i get yours before i go?” y/n asked.

“oh, of course. uhh, can i-” y/n pulled her phone out and opened to her contacts before clicking on the add sign. quinn smiled and typed in his number. “here you go.”

“i’ll see you around then.” y/n said and she looked at roan. “bye roan! it was very nice meeting you.”

roan leaned forward in his fathers arm, wrapping his own arms around y/n and she did the same back, “bye bye!” he turned his head and placed a open mouthed kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘mwah’.

“cute kid.” y/n told quinn as she saved quinn’s number and put her phone away in her pocket. “bye quinn.”

“goodbye y/n.”

she turned around and began walking back to her apartment with quinn and roan on her mind. he was very attractive.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

it was 10:13 pm and quinn has just put roan to sleep in his bed after coming back to the lake house from dinner with his family. he walked back quietly to his own room which next to roan’s and got into bed, pulling the sheets over his body. he grabbed his phone, in hopes he would get a text from a certain person. with no luck he sighed and put his phone on his nightstand, ready to drift off to sleep.

*ding*

*ding*

he grabbed his phone and saw an unknown number had sent him a text. he opened it and quickly saw who it was.

*** *** ****

though i forgot abt you or what?

roan’s daddy

just a little bit

y/n 💞

well goodnight quinn

send my love to roan

roan’s daddy

what abt me??!

y/n 💞

🫢🫢

maybe later

roan’s daddy

goodnight y/n

quinn turned off his phone and placed it where it was previously on his nightstand before he turned around and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with y/n on his mind.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

turned out way better then expected. anywyas daddy quinn got me feeling some type of way. isn’t roan the sweetest little boy?? ☺️☺️💕💕 first post ever since my last one

[charlesslut16]

-watching a christmas movie-

summary : yuki and you are watching a christmas movie together....

PAIRINGS : yuki tsunoda x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i have so much work to do i am overloaded...

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

The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected off the frosted windows, filling the room with a warm and festive ambiance. The tree in the corner twinkled with multicolored lights, and the faint smell of cinnamon lingered in the air thanks to the scented candle you’d lit earlier. 

It was the kind of evening you always looked forward to during the holiday season—quiet, cozy, and just perfect for staying in. And with yuki it would be the best.

Yuki was sprawled out on the couch, a blanket draped over his legs as he scrolled lazily through his phone. You were in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on two mugs of hot chocolate. You added a generous dollop of whipped cream to each one before sprinkling crushed candy canes on top.

“You better not be falling asleep over there!” you called, grabbing the mugs and heading back to the living room.

Yuki glanced up, a smirk already forming. “I’m not! I’m just… conserving energy.”

“Right,” you teased, handing him a mug before settling next to him. He immediately shifted closer, draping an arm around your shoulders.

“So,” he said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, “what masterpiece are we watching tonight?”

You shot him a mock-offended look. “Don’t act like you don’t know. It’s my favorite Christmas movie!”

“Home Alone again?” he asked, already grinning because he knew the answer.

“Yes! And don’t even pretend you don’t love it. You were quoting Kevin McCallister for weeks last year.”

Yuki laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Fine, fine. Let’s do it. But only if we can skip straight to the part where he pranks the burglars.”

“No way,” you said firmly, grabbing the remote. “We watch it all. That’s the rule.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, but the playful smile on his face told you he wasn’t really complaining.

You pressed play, and the familiar opening notes of the movie’s score filled the room. As the story unfolded, you found yourself leaning into Yuki’s side, the two of you sharing a blanket while the movie transported you back to childhood Christmases.

Halfway through, Yuki started his usual commentary. “Okay, but how did the parents not realize Kevin wasn’t there until they were on the plane? Like, who does that?”

“It’s the ’90s,” you replied with a shrug. “People were just… less organized back then.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Less organized? They lost their kid.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re overthinking it. Just enjoy the movie.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, but a minute later, he was at it again. “And how is Kevin so good at setting up all these traps? He’s like eight.”

“Because he’s a genius,” you said matter-of-factly. “Now stop questioning the logic and just let yourself have fun.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

The movie continued, and despite his earlier teasing, Yuki was clearly invested. He laughed at all the right moments, groaned when they fell for the traps, and even gasped a little when the tarantula made its dramatic appearance.

By the time the credits rolled, the two of you were curled up together, your now-empty mugs forgotten on the coffee table. The tree lights cast a soft glow over the room, and the quiet of the moment felt almost magical.

“Okay,” Yuki admitted, breaking the silence, “I get why this is your favorite. It’s kind of a classic.”

“Kind of?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “It’s the classic.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s the classic. Happy?”

“Very,” you said, smiling as you rested your head against his shoulder.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of Christmas music from the playlist you’d queued up earlier. Yuki’s hand found yours under the blanket, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that felt completely natural.

“This is nice,” he said softly, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you agreed, squeezing his hand. “It is.”

You looked up at him, and the warmth in his brown eyes made your heart feel like it was wrapped in a cozy blanket. Moments like this—simple, quiet, and full of love—were what made the holiday season so special.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, a mischievous grin forming. “Remember last year when we tried to make gingerbread houses and yours collapsed like five minutes in?”

Yuki groaned, though he was clearly fighting a smile. “Why do you always have to bring that up? It was sabotage, and you know it.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, laughing. “Sabotage. I definitely snuck over and knocked your roof down when you weren’t looking.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he said, leaning in closer. “You’re sneakier than you look.”

“Me? Sneaky?” you gasped, feigning innocence. “You’re the one who ate half the candy before we even started decorating.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he said, his laughter echoing yours.

You spent the next few minutes reminiscing about past Christmases, trading stories and laughing until your sides hurt. It felt like no matter how many times you talked about these memories, they never lost their charm.

Eventually, Yuki shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around the two of you. “We should make some new traditions this year,” he said thoughtfully.

“Like what?” you asked, curious.

“I don’t know,” he said, tilting his head as he thought. “Maybe we could do a Christmas movie marathon? Or—oh! We could try baking cookies. I’ll even let you make fun of me if I mess up.”

You grinned. “Deal. But only if we watch Elf at least three times during the marathon.”

“Three times?” he asked, laughing. “You’re relentless.”

“Yep,” you said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “And you love it.”

He shook his head, though the smile on his face said you were absolutely right.

As the night went on, you found yourself feeling incredibly grateful for moments like these. It wasn’t the big, flashy celebrations that made the holidays special—it was the quiet, meaningful ones spent with the people you loved most. And with Yuki by your side, you couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas.

❤️

[lodeddiperactivate]

I hate you more! Part 4

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!reader

Word count: 1,601

Warnings: angst, drugs, alcoholism, substance abuse

Summary: A classic enemies to lovers! Y/N decided to go to that college party, saw her ex at the party, then Rodrick showed up. Ofc, nothing bad will happen, right? ;)

Author’s note: I've been busy, not much to say, but here's part 4! I'm thinking of ending this series by part 5 and will prolly make it smut :>

Tags: @tomhockstetter7-111 @quadraticmandela @bubbl14 @iliterallydontexistlol @avihtoria

Rodrick agreed to your offer that you'll split the $100 a week with him if he cooperates and takes it seriously. This also means that your session for that day can end early so you can go to said college party. You quickly said your goodbyes to the Heffleys and went home to get ready. This was your first time sneaking out to a party in an entirely new town so you were kind of nervous, mostly because you're worried someone might recognize you at the party, which is why you chose one that's quite far (sort of). This also means taking the bus at night to a part of town you've never been to. It was all so scary but exciting for you, and you just longed to be surrounded by strangers. You were so deep in thought while waiting for the bus that you failed to notice Bill, Loded Diper's lead vocals. You've seen him a couple of times when you were at the Heffleys, and you've also confirmed with Rodrick that Bill is around 35 years old.

Shoot! You begged and hoped he did not see or recognize you. Luckily enough, you saw the bus rounding the corner just before Bill eyed you curiously. When he finally recognized you and was in the process of calling out to you, you had already boarded the bus. There weren't a lot of people riding the bus or even waiting for the bus so you breathe a sigh of relief as the bus drove away before Bill could catch up to you. You immediately slouched back to one of the seats and relaxed a bit.

You were nearing the party when your phone rang. It was a common friend between you and your ex, they were the one who initially told you about the party. Your heart sank when you saw the words on your screen, "I'm so sorry Y/N, I know you wanna go to this party to escape but I heard that he might be there!"

Great! You said to yourself. Your ex is gonna be at the party. Your mind goes to the worst case scenario where your ex is already hanging out with some hot new girl, making out at some corner or whatever, and you'll be there, not knowing anyone and being awkward and all. You're typically confident in your social skills but you can't seem to shake this nervousness and inferiority complex whenever you're around your ex. Your ex is 5 years older than you, and you had always thought he was so cool, that is until he started bringing girls to his college dorm. He assured you that nothing had happened, and maybe nothing did, but you knew that that was not how you wanted to be treated.

The bus stopped at a screeching halt and you walked out to greet the cold evening air. You wore a slightly oversized leather jacket over a plain white shirt and a black mini skirt. You wanted to appear cool but not trying too hard but with all this nervousness, you decided that your first agenda for the night is to get some alcohol in you. From the bus stop, it was only a 3-minute walk to the house. It was already getting late so no one was checking who was coming in and out of the house, which makes it easy for you to sneak in.

As soon as you stepped in, the music was blaring, college kids were drinking and dancing and groping each other, and making out. It was utter chaos, and for someone who likes to be organized, it was funny finding peace amidst the chaos. You went into the kitchen and found a couple of hard liquor, you went in for the kill. After just a few drinks, you found yourself walking to where people were dancing and started swaying your hips. One of your hands holding a cup while the other one freely roamed and caressed the rest of your body. You weren't sure how long you danced but you've noticed that another hand was also exploring your body. You turned to see that it was your ex.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" He asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," you slurred which gave away the fact that you were already slightly intoxicated.

"Well, I for one am a college student, this is a college party." He said.

"In that case, why don't you go find some college girls to invite back to your dorm huh?" You said as you pushed his hands away. You tried walking away from him but he quickly yanked your arm which made you yelped. The music was loud to begin with but he yanked it so abruptly and out of nowhere that you were sure your voice pierced through the loud noise.

"Hey man, let her go."

Wait a minute. You know that voice. No no no, it can't be. Your ex was blocking the person who just spoke but as soon as he turned to see who it was, you kew your suspicions were right. It was Rodrick. Of course, Bill would tell him he saw you at the bus stop. Your mind ran frantically at all the possible situations that could unravel.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Rodrick. Let her go, I mean, don't bother Y/N."

You can tell he was nervous. Your ex was more muscular than Rodrick, and you don't know Rodrick well enough, but you can tell he has never been in a fight before. Your ex, on the other hand, has been in plenty. Although, he has been in reasonable fights and not petty ones, you try to convince yourself that as long as Rodrick doesn't do anything stupid, you can easily walk out of here in one piece.

"You don't want me bothering Y/N?" Your ex asked slowly, almost mockingly.

"Yeah, that's what I said, butt breathe!"

Butt breathe? Where in the hell did he learned that insult? You decided to step in.

"Come on, Rodrick, let's go." You walked past your ex and grabbed Rodrick by the arm.

"Yeah, you're lucky, Y/N is here to stop me because if not, I would've showed you what it's like to get your teeth punched, I mean like knocked out...get your teeth knocked out from punching."

You hear your ex scoffed at Rodrick's attempt to scare him. And with you grabbing Rodrick's arm and rushing to get out of that house, the last thing you heard was your ex calling out to you, "I'll see you soon, Y/N".

~

Rodrick had drove all the way to the house party when Bill texted him he saw you at the bus stop. And so, with the events that had just happened, you weren't surprised that the ride back was just pure silence.

You can tell Rodrick would look at you every now and then, trying to come up with something to say, but you were blankly staring at the road. The truth is that the breakup had left you feeling hurt and unwanted. Seeing your ex at the party and feeling his hands on you made you yearn for something, well, physical. You were embarassed at this fact but what can you do?

Rodrick coughed, probably in an attempt for you to look at him. You slowly looked at him, and he smiled. His smile was all teeth but his brows were wrinkled like the top part of his face was worried yet he was attempting a smile. It was the most ludicrous smile you had ever seen that you couldn't help but let out a small giggle.

"What?" He asked smiling back.

"Nothing. It's just that you have an ugly smile." You said as you let out a heartily laugh.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"What? Try smiling like that?"

"Yeah." He said slowly, smiling.

You didn't realized it immediately but did he mean something else entirely? You looked back at him, he was focused on the road. You were probably 20 minutes away from home at that point.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Hmmm," you thought, "for protecting my honor."

Rodrick seemed proud when you said it that you saw him made his usual grin. You were grateful but at the same time, you just love teasing him.

"Although, you really need to work on your insults."

"What's wrong with them?" He genuinely asked as he turned a corner to where your houses are at.

"A lot!" You said and giggled as he slowly pulled to the front of your house so as not to wake your parents. You quickly said thank you again as you opened the passenger door to his Loded Diper van.

"Maybe.." he said. You paused just as you were stepping out of the van.

"Yeah?" You asked, as if you were hoping for something, the tone evident in your voice. Rodrick looked at you, and you thought that for the first time, he held your gaze.

"Maybe you can teach me how to properly insult someone, next time?"

You smiled, "Of course!" You replied, and before you know it, your entire body was moving on its own as you leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his check. He was surprised as you are as you both stared at each other for a few more seconds before you said goodnight and hopped out of his van. As you walked to your front door, you turned to wave goodbye to him and he waved back, smiling.

DOAWK masterlist

[leiawritesstories]

Small Steps

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 27: Single Parents @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: mild innuendo, Maeve, reference to parental loss

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…and this week, as we all know, is Parents’ Week, so the kids will be bringing their parents to school most of the days. There’s a family breakfast on Tuesday and the barbecue on Friday evening, so please remember to remind your classes of these events. That’s all.” Maeve, the principal, finished her long, drawn-out speech, and Aelin covertly tucked away her phone and stood up with the rest of the teachers. It was her third year teaching the second grade at Orynth Academy, a private grade school that catered mainly to families with working parents. The school made an effort to have a wide range of after-school programs so that the kids could stay later, allowing the parents to get through all of their 9-5 hours before they had to come pick up their kids. 

It was a little bit elitist, especially given Maeve’s attitude towards the students who were there on scholarship, but Aelin genuinely loved her job. She’d graduated university with a master’s degree in education, and the best parts of her day were the big smiles on her students’ faces when they were able to grasp a new concept. 

Sleek silver thermos of coffee in hand, Aelin walked down the hall with the other second grade teacher, Elide Lochan, the two of them exchanging lesson plans for the day and snickering quietly about Maeve’s long speech. She did that far too often—dragged what could have been a fifteen-minute Monday morning staff meeting into an hour-long affair, which forced the teachers to come into work earlier than usual. 

“I’m convinced she’s secretly a witch,” Elide murmured. “No human woman is that pale all year.” 

“Maybe she’s a vampire,” Aelin offered. “That would explain why she never has lights on in her office or comes by the classrooms during the day when there’s sunlight.” 

Elide giggled. “No wonder all the kids are scared of her.” 

They came to Aelin’s classroom, and Elide waved as she continued down the hall to her classroom. Aelin flicked on the lights as she walked in, illuminating the space that she had carefully planned and decorated for her students. The desks sat in orderly rows—as specified in the damn school handbook—but each desk had a hand-lettered name card. Soft white twinkle lights draped around the whiteboard and along the row of windows on the left side of the classroom. The colorful alphabet posters that circled half the classroom were also handmade; Aelin had spent hours carefully outlining each letter in both print and cursive. A multicolored rug spanned the front of the classroom, where the students gathered for storytime every day, and the plastic bins with paper, craft supplies, and pencils were also brightly colored, giving a cheerful atmosphere to what would otherwise have been a sterile environment. 

Aelin’s desk was neatly organized with wire racks that held her graded and not-yet-graded assignments, lesson plans, and instruction sheets. Clear plastic organizers held her pens and pencils, and her computer had a neat row of sticky notes at the bottom of the monitor that held reminders and a couple of passwords for instructional sites she frequently used. She set her coffee down and opened up her laptop, pulling up the first few things she would need for the day. 

Knocking against her open door pulled her attention over that way. Maeve stood in the doorway, checking in on the staff as she often did before the students began to arrive. “Ms. Galathynius?” 

“Yes, ma’am?” Another thing that needled Aelin about this place—Maeve insisted that the staff refer to her as ma’am. 

“Do you need anything for the day?” 

“I don’t believe so, but I will let you know if anything comes up, ma’am.” 

“Very good.” Maeve left, headed for the next classroom down. 

Aelin rolled her eyes as she stood and went to the whiteboard. She lettered the day’s date neatly in the upper left of the board, turned on the projector, and brought the Morning Question up so it was clearly visible. She had her students fill out a Morning Question every day on a worksheet that she gave them each week, so that they had something to do that worked as both another form of roll call and a way to practice their writing. 

The first bell rang, and it was only a few minutes before students began to enter the classroom, many of them with their parents in tow. Aelin took a long pull of coffee and went over to the door, where she smiled and greeted each student and was introduced to a long string of parents, many of whom were absorbed in their email or phone calls as they began their workday. 

“Good morning, Emerson,” she said warmly to one of the boys.

He grinned widely at her. “I lost my tooth, Ms. G! See?” Indeed, there was a gap between his front teeth that hadn’t been there on Friday. 

“Congratulations!” She gave him a fist bump. “Did you get a dollar from the tooth faerie?” 

Wide-eyed, Emerson turned to his mom, tugging at her hand. “Mama! Did you hear? Auntie—I mean, Miss G says the tooth faerie gives money!” 

Emerson’s mom Lysandra, who was Aelin’s dear friend and practically her sister-in-law, fought back a burst of laughter as she glared teasingly at Aelin. “Is that true?” 

“Happened when I was growing up.” Aelin shrugged. “But maybe the economy has gone down since then, who knows?” 

“I can’t say what I want to say since you’re at work, but you know what I’m thinking.” Lysandra winked at Aelin. “Have a good day, my boy! I love you.” 

“Love you too, Mama!” Emerson went to go put away his backpack, and Aelin smirked at Lys as she headed down the hall. 

Another small hand grasped hers. “Hi, Miss G!” 

Aelin turned and found a pair of huge, emerald green eyes staring up at her in near adoration. She smiled and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Good morning, Charlotte. Did you bring your dad?” 

The second week of school, Charlotte had come to Aelin in tears during morning recess, crying over the unkind words of some older students. It was then that Aelin learned that Charlotte’s dad was a widower, having lost his wife when their daughter was only a few months old. With her heart bleeding for the girl, Aelin had shared that her mom was in the afterlife too, and she had quickly become Charlotte Whitethorn’s favorite teacher. 

Charlotte nodded slowly. “Daddy’s in the hallway. He said he didn’t want to feel ak-sard around the other parents.” 

“Did you mean awkward?” Aelin asked, gently correcting the girl’s pronunciation. 

“Uh-huh.” Charlotte went back into the hallway, and she came into the classroom hand in hand with her father, looking for all the world like she was forcefully tugging him along with her. “Daddy, this is Miss G! She’s the bestest teacher!” 

“We just say best,” Aelin reminded her, the teacher part of her brain in full force. She turned her smile onto Rowan Whitethorn, whom she’d met once during back-to-school night and immediately decided to try and charm. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to your daughter.” 

Rowan scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, flicking a glance around the room at the parents who were following their kids to their desks. “To be honest, Ms. Galathynius, I almost didn’t get out of the car.” He looked fondly at his daughter as she ran across the classroom to say hi to her friends. 

“Well, good on you for doing this. Small steps, right?” 

He huffed a breathy laugh, a half-smile tilting his unfairly full, definitely kissable lips. “Right. Speaking of that…how are your small steps, Ms. G?” His eyes twinkled at her teacher title. 

She put on the pretense of shaking his hand so she could poke him in the ribs. “We didn’t tell the next-door neighbor to mind her own flipping business when she started rambling about the ‘aesthetic of the community,’ when she knows that I work full-time and don’t have the means to keep my tiny scrap of a front yard immaculately pruned, and I consider that a win.” 

Rowan chuckled. “Well done, Ms. Galathynius.” Good girl, said the look in his eyes. 

Gods burn me, thought Aelin as she read the unspoken words. “Well, it was lovely of you to bring your daughter to school, Mr. Whitethorn. I’ll remind you of the same thing that I will tell the students: we have parent-student breakfast tomorrow morning from seven to nine, and we have the family barbecue on Friday evening.” She winked. “You should come.” 

A blush flared bright on his cheekbones, a splatter of crimson atop his tan. “I’ll try to make room in my schedule.” 

“Wonderful!” She waved as he left, and she put her smile on again as she turned to the next set of parents. “Good morning!” 

~

At the end of the day, Aelin locked her classroom and let her hair down as she went out to her car, sighing in relief at the warm sunshine on her skin. She drove back to her house and put down her school bag, then climbed right back into her car and headed into town again. The drive was familiar and easy, and she cut through the neighborhood streets to avoid the congestion on the main roads. Soon enough, she was pulling into the small parking lot at Wee Ones Daycare, which offered care for infants and children from six months to three years old. The staff there was absolutely wonderful, if overly enthusiastic about concepts that they were currently learning about, and Aelin felt completely and utterly safe trusting them. 

She slung the car seat over her arm, walked in the doors, and greeted the receptionist, a friendly young woman named Evangeline whose shy smile masked a heart the size of the universe. It was only a short walk to the baby room, and Aelin knocked softly on the doorframe as she entered. “Hi, Kaltain.” 

The lady who was in charge of the infants aged six to eight months smiled. “Hi, Aelin.” 

A younger girl, one of the part-time college students who worked at the daycare, noticed Aelin and went to the other side of the room. She came over with a sleepy baby girl in her arms, and Aelin beamed wide as she picked up her tiny daughter, who made a soft, contented sound in her sleep as she settled into her mama’s arms. 

“Hi, Lana lovey.” She passed her thumb over the baby girl’s little button nose, feeling her heart settle as she snuggled her daughter. Every morning when she dropped Lana off at daycare, she felt a piece of herself missing, and it clicked back into place the instant she had her girl in her arms again. “How did she do with naps today?” 

Kaltain checked the log where she tracked each baby’s nap times. “She did great! She slept for an hour after she had her morning bottle, and she fell asleep about forty-five minutes ago.” Lana was seven months old and was only waking up one to two times at night, huge progress from her newborn phase, when she was up every two hours without fail. 

“That’s awesome!” Aelin kissed Lana’s forehead. “You’re doing so good, lovey. Are you sitting up too?” 

“She is,” Kaltain said cheerfully. “We practice sitting up with the pillows every day.” 

The assistant peered over Kaltain’s shoulder. “Have we talked about sleep training yet? That’s something that you should definitely be doing, since it’s been shown to improve babies’ sleep quality and patterns, which allows the parents to get sleep too—” 

“Thank you for your input.” Aelin put on her teacher voice, speaking politely but firmly. “At this time, I do not plan to sleep train my daughter, as that is not in the best interest of our family. Lana sleeps perfectly well, and her wake windows work for both of us since I can breastfeed, pump, or both.” 

The assistant flushed, recognizing that she’d spoken too quickly. “But the studies do show data in favor of sleep training for infants,” she mumbled. 

“Oh, I completely believe that,” Aelin reassured her. “I’m only saying that sleep training is not the right situation for every infant, particularly for situations like mine.” She got Lana settled into her car seat, still sleeping, and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow!” 

She secured Lana’s car seat, checked the mirrors to make sure she could see her daughter, and drove away, weaving back through the neighborhoods. It was only a short while before she was back home, and she brought her baby girl inside as Lana was waking up. In the house, she scooped the baby girl into her arms and peppered kisses on her sleepy, rosy cheeks, making her squeal. 

Lana started to squirm within a few minutes, so Aelin got her changed into a fresh diaper and outfit, settled down in her comfortable recliner, and helped her latch. She rocked gently back and forth as Lana fed, using her pump on the other side. Fed and happy, Lana burped easily, only spitting up a little bit, and made happy sounds as Aelin stole a few more moments of cuddles. Eventually, though, her stomach growled like a feral cat and she had to get up and head for the kitchen. She buckled her baby carrier around her waist and got Lana happily situated. Screw what the mommy blogs said about “spoiling the babies,” she would wear her baby as much as she wanted. 

“Mama’s hungry too, little lovey,” she cooed, chuckling as Lana waved her little arms and gurgled. “That’s right, my girl, you eat good food, and I have to eat good food too.” She popped a glass container of leftover pasta into the microwave and took a carton of strawberries out of the fridge. The berries were delicious, and when the microwave beeped a few minutes later, she had steaming hot pasta as well. “Ooh, that’s yummy!” 

Lana reached for the spoon, and Aelin chuckled and let her daughter wrap her little fist around the handle of the spoon. She waved it around, managing to splash tomato sauce in her wispy brown hair, and Aelin could only laugh at the sight. “What on earth are we going to do when you start eating solids, hmm? You’re going to need a bath every other hour, lovey.” 

The doorbell rang. 

Aelin’s brows shot up, and she glanced at her phone. Oh, gods. She’d forgotten that Rowan was coming over that night. This…thing between them was still new, and they had agreed to take it slowly, so she hadn’t yet been over to his house. That would mean telling Charlotte that her teacher was dating her dad, and she didn’t want to burden the girl with that knowledge. 

It also meant that Rowan didn’t know Lana. 

With a deep, steadying breath, Aelin went to the front door and opened it wide, her jaw dropping slightly at the beautiful bouquet of flowers that Rowan was holding. The burst of bright pink, yellow, orange, and crimson gerbera daisies popped against his plain, pale gray shirt. 

And his jaw hung loose at the sight of the baby she cradled in her arms. 

“Hi, Rowan.” Aelin broke the thick silence. “Come on in.” 

He came slowly into her house, still staring at Lana. “H-hi, Aelin,” he whispered. “I, um…”

She exhaled deeply. “Rowan, I want you to meet my daughter, Alanna. Lana. She’s seven months old, and she is my whole entire life.” 

“Hi, Miss Lana,” Rowan murmured, hesitantly reaching out towards Aelin’s baby daughter. Lana gurgled happily and wrapped her tiny fingers around his pointer finger, her grip surprisingly strong. A smile bloomed across his face. “You’re such a strong little miss,” he praised, grinning at her. “Just like your mama, hmm?” 

“Rowan,” Aelin whispered, her throat going thick. 

He flashed her a crooked, endearing grin. “Strongest woman I know, raising a baby while having a full-time job.” 

She swallowed heavily. “It’s just me and Lana.” Smiling at her daughter, she brushed over the soft brown waves atop her little head. “You…Rowan, you’re probably the only person besides my family who knows my daughter.” 

“Thank you for letting me meet her,” he murmured, utterly charmed by Lana’s wide turquoise eyes and infectious happiness. “You know why it’s only me and Charlotte, Ae, and very few people know about that.” 

“Yeah,” she breathed. “It’s not easy, Ro. Being her only parent.” 

“Hey.” He slid the container of pasta closer to Aelin. “Maybe we can help each other out, every once in a while.” 

The simple ease of his suggestion warmed her to her core. “I’d like that.”

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

[bluevelvetjoel]

Dance With You Tonight - Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Authors note: Hii besties, sorry this took a while to get out! I will try to get a more consistent writing schedule. Spring semester started last week so I am trying to get a hang of that . Once again thank you to @punkshort for having faith in me and helping me organize this!! Anyways without further ado, enjoy!!

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Synopsis: You were training and studying to become a professional ballet dancer, until fate had other plans. Leaving you crushed and headed into a new career path. Becoming a dance teacher, a way of keeping dance in your life. Still in the process of healing, you meet Joel Miller. A single dad working as a contractor, trying to make his little girl happy by signing her up for dance lessons. Guarded when you first meet him, he teaches you to love a way you haven't before. 

Chapter summary: you keep running into Joel outside of the dance studio and can’t seem to get away from each other. 

Chapter warnings: Some allusions to trauma and anxiety. Tommy being a forgetful uncle. Joel being a worried mess. Light swearing. Drinking, tipsiness, MDNI (18+), Slow (ish) burn, two pining idiots. No use of Y/N.

Chapter 2 - Falling Behind (Word count: around 2.5k)

“Please keep practicing those pirouettes, I expect you all to have them perfected by next week!” you say as your students begin walking out of the studio to pack up their things.  Parents were outside waiting and ushering their kids out the door. Finally you were all finished for the day, your last class being with an older group of kids. You walk up to the flight of stairs to your office, but bump into Sarah. She was sitting on the steps near the exit door with her dance bag at her feet. Her class had ended almost two hours ago, so you were a bit concerned as to why she was still at the studio. 

“Sarah, sweetie, what are you still doing here?” you questioned. She shrugged. “My uncle Tommy was supposed to pick me up…and my dad is caught up with a big project at work,” she explains. You sigh and tell her to get up and grab her things. Quickly you take her up to your office so you can grab your car keys and duffel bag. 

Then you both walked to your car, with Sarah sitting in the passenger seat. After asking where she lived, you placed the keys in the ignition and began driving. 

Time passed by, and you found yourself driving into a cul de sac neighborhood. Sarah then pointed out where her house was, a quaint home that looked well taken care of. You notice a pickup truck in the driveway. Someone must be home now. 

You park your car and unbuckle your seatbelt. You then walk with Sarah into the house, to see a very distressed Joel. 

Joel was pacing in the living room, with his phone up to his ear. “Damnit Tommy answer the phone…” he muttered. Quickly Joel turned around as he heard the door open. He certainly wasn't expecting to see walk inside his home with his daughter. You looked at Joel, fresh from work made your heart flutter. His t-shirt is a bit dirty, the fabric of the sleeves hugging perfectly on his biceps. A streak of sweat on his forehead from the Texan sun.  Snap out of it, his daughter was right next to you. 

“Dad? I’m home” Sarah said. “Uncle Tommy never showed up to pick me up from my lesson.” He had a sigh of relief and rubbed his forehead. “Sarah, baby I’m sorry. I had no idea your uncle would do this,” he groaned. “I just got home from work to see that you weren’t in the kitchen doin’ your homework.” Sarah immediately set her things down in the doorway and shrugged. “It's okay dad, really. She was nice enough to drive me here.“ she said as she looked in your direction. You give Sarah a comforting smile in return. “He’ll just have to make it up to me,” she said sincerely. Joel chuckled, knowing that would consist of his brother taking her to the mall. He then told her to head upstairs to her room so he could talk with you. 

“I really ‘preciate you drivin’ Sarah all the way over here, given you probably have plans. I swear this is not a common occurrence. My brother was probably caught up in somethin’ stupid.” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down on the couch. 

You give him a sympathetic look and cross your arms.  “It's all good, really. I'm just glad I was able to help.” Joel gave you a small smile, “You want coffee or a glass of water?”. you stammer and shake your head. “Thanks for the offer, but I should get home.” he nods, “‘Course… let me at least walk you back to your car.” he said. You couldn't argue with that.  

You sat back down in the driver's seat, the car door still swung open. “I've been meanin’ to call you too….for uh figuring out a payment for classes?” his voice wavers a bit, was he nervous? You nod “Of course, we can do it over a cup of coffee. There’s a nice café a couple blocks from the studio.” you say with a smile. He nods and gives you a bright smile. That damn intoxicating smile. You then wave, shut the door , and drive away. 

The weekend came sooner than expected. You were sitting at a dimly lit bar across the city, meeting up with your old friend Hailey for your weekly debrief. “So you gave him your number AND made a date to meet for coffee?” Hailey said with a suggestive tone. You roll your eyes and take a sip from your wine glass. “Yes but I give my number to all the parents! And this is definitely not a date. I'm just trying to help, Joel is really in a bind,” you say defensively. Light bar music was playing and sounds of people chatting filled the room. Hailey nods and lets out a sarcastic “Suuuure. Look, you know I’m just looking out for you. Your last relationship was how many months ago? If you'll even consider that one,” she said as she sipped on the straw of her drink. Joel really was handsome. Like really good looking, and you had confessed this to yourself weeks ago. But he was the father of one of your students, a line you never really thought about crossing. 

“I'm just not ready for that…especially with everything that happened….” you took a deep breath and Hailey frowned, reaching her hand over to yours to give it a supportive squeeze. She then looked to the side and waved at the bartender for another round. You readjusted yourself in the booth and straightened your shoulders, plastering on a smile to ask Hailey if she can change the subject.

Another hour had passed and you were snacking on the bar peanuts and giggling, the mood much lighter than it was earlier. The best thing about your friend Hailey is that she never left Texas, either. You’d known her practically since you were both in diapers. Even attending your first ballet class with her all those years ago. You even still had an old picture of the two of you, giving the biggest smile for your mom who took the photo. Backstage at your first recital. Still full of hope and dreams.

A little more tipsy than you’d like to be, you were resting your chin in your hand, trying to give your full attention to Hailey's story about how she ran into her ex’s new girlfriend at the supermarket the other day. “And did you see Nicki’s instagram post about getting engaged? Makes me really want to give up on love.” she grumbles and you shrug and play with the straw wrapper. Then all of the sudden you see a familiar, broad frame enter your peripheral view. 

You immediately notice it was Joel, along with a group of men. You silently curse to yourself, trying not to draw any attention. You were definitely not the most sober. He lets out a laugh and pats the back of another, someone a bit younger but sort of resembles him. Must be the famous Uncle Tommy who forgot to pick up Sarah the past week. Everything seemed to be forgiven between him and Joel. 

Eventually Joel turned his back around to grab his beer and you caught his eye. It was an odd sight for him. It was you, in a bar. He'd never seen you in such a laid back and casual setting, especially with a beer in your hand. Always in your dance attire for when you taught your students. 

Joel then excused himself from the other men and started walking to the booth you and Hailey were sitting at. Next thing you know, he stood above the two of you. You give him a smile and introduce Joel to Hailey. They shake hands and a devilish grin appears on her face. You knew that look all too well. “Awww wow the famous Joel!“ She slurs and a small blush creeps on your cheeks. Hailey then checks her phone and fakes a phone call.  Looks like I have to take this…! I’ll leave you two be.” she said as she scooted out of the chair. You take a deep breath as she walks toward the bathroom.

“She seems like a good time.” he jokes with a grin. You nod and sit up straight. “Oh trust me, she is. I know because I’ve known her for so long.” you say with a smile. Joel nods, clears his throat and takes a swig of his bear. You couldn’t help your eyes linger toward his fingers. The way his hand gripped the neck of the beer bottle. “The other day, I still can't thank you enough for taking care of Sarah,” he said. You shrugged and put your hand on your chest. “Joel again it's not a big deal, really. I was happy to do it.” He nods, “Still made a bad impression on ya. How ‘bout I buy you another drink, on me? Well, on Tommy because he got you into that mess.” he teased as he pointed to his brother, Tommy who’s eyes were focused on the dart board. “I shouldn't…it's getting late even for me.” you say apologetically. You then get up, and grab your purse. Joel unknowingly takes your wrist gently which sends shivers down your spine. “Please, it's the least I can do.” he said with a genuine look.  Another drink wouldn't hurt, right?   

You both sit at the bar, a good distance from Joel’s friends. Joel ordered another round for the two of you. There was a buzz that came from your phone. Your fingers tapped the screen. It shows a text from Hailey that read: “Ur welcome ;))” You knew that by now, she was now long gone from the bar. 

You had planned to meet Joel at the coffee shop on the following Wednesday. No matter what you did or thought, the butterflies in your stomach would not go away. You have been seeing the man more than you intended.    

Sitting down at the table, coffee already in hand while your fingers anxiously tapped on the glass mug. Your laptop was slightly open, preparing to sort out financials. You couldn’t let Hailey's words get to your head. 

Moments pass and you see Joel walking up to the door through the glass window. The bell on the door chimes and he immediately spots you and gives a smile and a wave. You wave back, he then gets in the short line to order the coffee. You couldn’t tell, but Joel was about to take any opportunity to get to know you better, even if it was for his daughter. 

The barista calls out for his name and he takes the mug, and begins to walk over to the table you’re sitting at.  

“Hey.” he smirks and sits down across from you and you smile and say hello as you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. You both were doomed. “How are ya?” Joel asks, trying to make conversation. “Good, It’s one of my easier teaching days.” you say softly. “How about yourself?” you managed to squeak out. Why did Joel always make you feel this way? You barely knew the guy.  He shrugs and takes a deep breath, “Well, the contractin’ company is pretty busy right ‘bout now.. So I'll be honest, a bit exhausted. ” he chuckles and you smile. Then the two of you get to work with figuring out a good payment plan that was reasonable. Showing him the excel sheet you had set up on your laptop screen and making progress. 

You watch him as he slowly sips on his coffee. Then his deep brown eyes caught yours. “Good cup of joe. Don”t think I’ve ever heard of this place before.”  he licks his lips and places the cup back down on the table. “Probably the best place in Austin if you ask me. I probably come here at least 5 times a week.” you giggle and he laughs with you. Getting carried away and focusing back and sending him all the information he needs via email to keep up with the payments. 

“ I can’t thank you enough, Sarah can never stop talkin’ bout how she loves your class. Says you’re the kindest person. When I see the smile on her face after I pick her up I know this is all worth it.” he says as he looks at you. You smile, it was happy for you to hear. “I try my best to support my students any way I can. Sarah seems to have a natural talent. You should be proud.” You say and lightly touch his arm. He smiles at the contact, “Trust me, I am.” then nods.  

You both end up getting carried away in conversation, about the both of you. Joel likes that after you talk about something frustrating you scrunch your nose. Joel talks about how Sarah just wanted to try ballet to see if she would like it, and it’s working out just fine..After hearing you so passionately talking about your students, Joel couldn’t help but say, “If ya dont mind me askin’, what got you into teachin’ dance?”  You freeze for a moment and sigh. Joel notices the switch in your mood. “Well, it’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My mom really encouraged my dream to pursue a career in dance ever since I was seven. She was the first one to really see my talent.” you say with a small smile. “Now I want to be that encouragement for my students.” Joel smiled at that answer and cleared his throat. “And Sarah mentioned you studied at a ballet school in Boston? Pretty damn impressive.” he said. You nod slightly and give him the fakest smile ever. You then turn your head to look out the window that was next to the both of you. 

Joel sensed he struck a nerve, and there was a part of you that was closed off. Especially talking about talking about your own experience with Ballet. He was determined to know what made you like that eventually.  

A few seconds passed and the waitress put the bill on the table. You grab it before Joel can and smile. “It's the least I can do since you bought me a drink last weekend!” you say as you grab your card out of your wallet. Joel huffs and holds his hands up in defeat and smirks. “Whatever you say, Ma’am.” he replies, like a true gentleman. Your legs went weak, you both knew you were in it now. 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Our Darkest Hour: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: Rolling blackouts cause a serial killer to rape and murder his victims. He taunts the police and even brings Derek into it. The public has dubbed him the Prince of Darkness. Meanwhile Frank is livid that you didn't stay in jail so if he can't get rid of you that way, the only way to do it is to kill you.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, molding men." - Alfred Lord Tennyson

You sit at your desk looking at your phone with thought. The text from your dad was sent ten minutes ago but you're not sure why he's so pissed. All you did was ask him if he could come down to visit you this weekend. Ever since you've gotten out of prison, he's been pissed about anything and everything. You're not sure why. Is it the kids he's fostering? Are they not doing their chores? Is it his construction company? Is he not getting enough money from it? You tap the corner of the phone on your bottom lip in thought.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks,

"Yeah. My dad is just having one of his bad days, I guess. He's pissed about something and it looks like he's taking it out on me. All I did was ask if he wanted to come down this weekend to visit."

"Does he normally get like this?"

"Sometimes. Usually, I ignore him until he calms down. He'd buy me dinner and we'd talk it out or he'd get me a gift and he'd be fine the next day."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah, maybe."

Strauss comes out of Hotch's office, signaling to you that he's free for the briefing. You pass her by on the way to the briefing room.

"What did Strauss want?"

"She needs us in Los Angeles. There was a home invasion homicide last night. Officers found Gregory Everson, fifty-six, beaten, with a GSW to the head. His wife, Colleen, was equally beaten and raped repeatedly."

"She survived this?" you gasp.

That makes your heart heavy. You know for a fact that this woman doesn't want to be alive anymore. You didn't for a long time.

"He chose to keep her alive like an intentional witness. Everything but that points to an organized offender, an experienced one."

"Was she able to identify him?" Spencer asks.

"She said he was white with mean eyes and repulsive breath."

"Rotten inside and out. Did he rape her in front of the husband?"

"Yeah," JJ whispers.

"Oh, no," you sigh sadly. "Poor Colleen."

"I'm touched but one home invasion rarely warrants Strauss personally sending us out," Derek says.

"No, there's more. Ballistics match a double homicide in Downtown LA forty-eight miles away. Three days ago, two women were raped and killed there. Last night was in the suburbs. LAPD's afraid of another Night Stalker."

You don't waste any time getting to the plane. You need to be in LA before this guy strikes again.

"This guy's way too good at this to have just started. He pulled off hours of torture and a homicide without disturbing the neighbors. Not to mention, he robbed the house."

"That could be a habit."

"Do you think he started as a burglar?" JJ asks Hotch.

"If it was just about the killing, he wouldn't bother robbing them."

"How did he get in?"

"Mrs. Everson said there was a noise outside their door. They were outside of their room for a few minutes. When they came back, he was there. He distracted them so he could climb in through their bedroom window."

"I'll have Garcia, see if that MO was used in any other home invasions," Spencer says.

"Victimology is all over the map. He committed three murders and they were both men and women, old, young, black, white, and Hispanic. That's about as random as it gets."

"Randomness implies a lack of predictability. I think that's the point. All the varying people in his message. He wants them all to fear him."

"They will," JJ sighs as she looks at her phone. "The press got ahold of last night's home invasion."

"JJ and I will set up at the station. Dave, you, Y/N, and Reid go visit Mrs. Everson at the hospital. Morgan and Prentiss, the LAPD detectives are waiting for you at the Everson house."

You know why he chose you to go to the hospital to talk to Mrs. Everson. You're the only one in the group who knows what it's like to be raped and survive it. Detective Matt Spicer and Adam Kurzbard met Derek and Emily once they got to the house. While it may look random to most people, Matt has a different view of it. He and Adam are on the Robbery-Homicide task in the Newton division since the first two victims were right in the middle of it. The only things that brought them out to Los Angeles were the bullets and the assault.

No DNA was found at any of the scenes because the unsub cleans up and he cleans up well. The reason the Eversons weren't able to see the unsub when he came in was because the electricity was out. Not because he cut the power but because of the rolling blackouts in LA. The city has them scheduled to get through the heat wave without the whole city going dark. The more people use their air conditioning in the blackout, the more it'll cause the system to overload. These blackouts help prevent that.

You're not sure what Mrs. Everson is going to be able to tell you. You're going to try and make this as painless for her as possible. Her doctor escorts her to her room and you gasp when you see restraints on her wrists.

"Why is she restrained?"

"She tried to kill herself. Twice."

Your heart breaks.

"Maybe you two should wait out here. Let me talk to her." Rossi and Spencer wait outside knowing you've got this handled. You walk inside and slowly approach her bed. "Emma? Mrs. Everson? My name is Y/N and I'm with the FBI." She moans in agony and looks away from you. Your heart bleeds for this woman. "I know you talked to the detectives, but do you mind answering some questions for me?"

She turns her head to you with tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't he kill me?"

You try your hardest not to cry but two tears slip past your eyes. You look down and touch the sidebar on her bed.

"I ask myself that same question every day."

"Were you...?"

"When I was ten." She sobs not only for herself but for you. "I want you to know something, Emma. The reason these men do things like this is because they're cowards who crave power. They leave us behind to watch us tear ourselves from the inside. I know it's hard, believe me, I know, but it won't be like this forever."

"When Greg looked at me... the way he always did. I... We didn't need words. We... He just... looked at me, and we would know." She starts crying. "I tried to be strong, but I... I... shut my eyes... when the gun went off, and... That's the last thing Greg saw. Now every time I shut my eyes... I see him. How long will that last?"

You can't tell her that you still see your rapist's face whenever you close your eyes. Most nights, you're able to push him so far back into your mind that he disappears but you know he's always there haunting you. You want to tell her it's going to be okay but you can't lie to her. That's all everyone is going to do to her. They want to make her feel better but you want her to know what the reality is going to be like.

"I don't think you'll ever forget what he looks like. I don't. That doesn't mean you will hurt every time you see his face. There will come a day when you picture his face and you won't be scared anymore. You'll see his face and feel empowered because you're better than him and he's still the coward he was when it happened. I know it doesn't seem like it now but you will survive this. Survive it for Greg."

She closes her eyes and cries, and you decide that's all you can take from her. You wipe your tears away and rejoin Rossi and Spencer in the hallway who heard your every word. You don't say a word and they don't ask. When you get back to the station, Rossi steps into an office and talks with Derek and Hotch.

"Hey, wait a second," Spencer says before you can go into the conference room where everyone else is. "Do you really see his face?"

"Every day. I'll never be able to erase the look of him with or without my abilities. I believe one day I will come face to face with this man, and I'm going to prove to him that I won, not him. I'm stronger than him and he's still a coward."

"I know you will. I'll be right here with you every step of the way."

You reach up and touch Spencer's cheek gently.

"I know you will."

"Hey, where's Rossi?" JJ asks, popping her head out of the conference room.

"With Derek and Hotch." On the bulletin board are all types of bullets that Matt put on there to compare them all to the ones found at the crime scene. "Wow. This is incredibly detailed."

"Yeah. Matt and his partner are the go-to guys for Robbery-Homicide. The Central Bureau in the Newton division is the busiest in LA." Spencer's phone rings and he answers Penelope's call. "Hey, Garcia, I have JJ and Y/N here."

"Praise the Gods. Los Angeles has a weirdly low rate of home invasion burglaries. I snagged a case in Westchester where a guy violently knocked down the front door, kicked the dog, and took off with the TV."

"Not the dog," you gasp.

"Breaking down the front door sends a message. He's trying to intimidate the victims."

"Yeah, and as horrible as this dog-kicking burglar sounds, I think the guy we're looking for is even more horrible."

"Garcia, this unsub's had practice and a lot of it. Maybe not in LA but he's definitely done this before."

"You're telling me. This is not his first crime party. I seriously can't find a single case in LA that equals this level of emotional destruction."

"We need to expand the search to all of Southern California. He can be in other cities with a quick ride on the freeways."

"Will do," she says and hangs up.

"We're going live on the 11:00 news. Do you think he'll be watching?"

"No, it's already late. He's probably hunting."

"Do you ever look at why this victim, why this day, and why this crime?"

You turn to see Matt and Emily walk into the conference room.

"Always."

"Do you ever think they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, I don't believe in coincidences."

"How come?" you ask.

"Don't get me wrong. It's not like I talk to the universe or anything. I've just always believed that things happen for a reason. It's hard to find the reason for this, though. Utterly meaningless crimes, no obvious motivation. Pure evil."

"Evil can't be scientifically defined. It's an illusory moral concept that doesn't exist in nature. Its origins and connotations have been inextricably linked to religion and mythology. This offender has shown no signs of any belief." Matt looks at Spencer weirdly. "I'm Spencer Reid."

"Matt Spicer."

"I'm Jennifer Jareau and that's Y/N. The media's been asking for you."

"Yeah, well, nobody else around here wants to talk to them. I figure it hasn't hurt me yet."

"They'd like an interview for the 11:00 news. Can we go over a few points?"

"Absolutely."

"Great."

Derek, Rossi, Adam, and Hotch step into the room as Matt and JJ step out.

"Are these the first two victims earlier this week?" Derek asks, pointing to the photos of the two women.

"Yeah. We discovered them Downtown in the morning but they were killed around two."

In the pictures Derek grabs, the alarm clocks read out 12:00.

"Not at noon?"

"No, I dragged Spicer over there around six."

"Both these clocks are stopped at 12:00. Was there a blackout?"

"No, they started that last night."

"The unsub cut their power but he let the blackout do it for him last night," you say. "Where's the next rolling blackout?"

"In about thirty minutes."

You're not prepared to prevent anything from happening so you know there will be a victim dead in her home when you wake up. Sure enough, there is. 

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[akixxsstuff]

Death Note L Lawliet Yandere x Wife Reader Smut

(The picture above was edited by me).

NSFW content // Angst // Click here for part 1

L's internal monologue:

Majority of the people I come into contact with find my demeanor to be intimidating or strange, but I usually don't care, I'm used to it anyway. Living in isolation is lonesome Y/N, so even minor gestures and interactions can be so meaningful, especially from such a beautiful woman like yourself. I love you so much darling, why are you so caring when my exterior is so cold and dismissive? Your warm, bright personality is such a significant contrast to my dark, cold world, and I'll do anything to maintain it.

Present Day, (a few hours after part 1):

"Stop bringing up my marriage already! You're wrong, you're wrong about everything! Quit fucking with my mind!" you hissed. "I have two rules, first, I'm never wrong. Second, if I'm wrong..back to the first rule" L snapped as you kicked him away, "Shut up!" you yelled. Glaring L barked "Watch" and he connected his phone to your television screen, showcasing various prerecorded videos of your husband having sex with his ex-co-worker in your shared bedroom. You collapsed into L's chest and began sobbing, you were devastated that your kidnapper was now more trustworthy and loyal than your husband. Yes, you weren't completely innocent yourself, however, your husband's relationship was consensual and occurred before your kidnapping. L hesitantly wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head, his pounding heart was ringing in your ears. "How could he do this to me, I tried so hard to mend our marriage, but it wasn't enough, everything was a lie" you snuffled. "Yes, your husband is evidently a very poor romantic partner" L mumbled, "I hate him!" you screamed.

"I'm sorry, my intention wasn't to hurt you Y/N. I just…I should have been more ethical…for once…I love you Y/N", "Yeah no kidding, what was your intention then?" you snapped sarcastically, "To convince you to divorce him for me before he could divorce you for someone else. Is there anything I could do to atone for my sins?" L whispered.

"Well I know you're not gonna free me so please just give me some space to process everything" you sighed, "Just as expected, please alert me if you require any emotional support, my love," he replied while patting your head, "Yeah" you mumbled.

You wandered around, finding a luxurious bathroom and kitchen, every room was stocked with your favorite foods, clothing brands, films, music, and more! This place was essentially a museum of you, which was both creepy and impressive. You washed and dressed yourself while brainstorming your escape, you couldn't easily kill him or threaten suicide since all potential weapons were removed, seriously, your shampoo was even organic so no one could be poisoned. You couldn't call anyone since you didn't have your phone and there were no windows and only one locked door.

Honestly, why should I even leave? All that's waiting for me is a shit show and a bunch of divorce papers you thought.

This isn't the full part 2, I'm just posting what I've finished so far!