#wait until he starts talking to it when he is working in his office 😂

[lexumpysfunland]

Guess whooo~

Plush Stanley! Ɛ>

Yeah he likes it. Even better, he loves it! It's going to be with him every time he sleep now... On the rare occasions he does...

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​ @smellingofpoetry​​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​​​​ @leigh70​​ @4getfulimaginator2022​​ @yeahmynameiscool06​​ @luci-wiggles​​​ @darkened-writer​ @mimaria420​​ @samanddeansannoyingsis​​ @sarasolros​​

[anonymooseforever007]

Man of My Dreams

(Alfie Solomons x female reader)

Summary: Y/N is one of the newest secretaries at the Shelby Company and she's always eager to make her bosses proud. But one night, when Tommy give her the order to watch one of his business partners.... maybe she took the order "by any way you can" a bit to literally....

A/N: Hi y'all! There's nothing graphic, but this fic does contain a short mention of forced prostitution by some aweful bosses over their secretaries, but nothing happens here. And aside from usual Peaky Language and sexual innuendos I don't think there are any other TW's for this story! I was gonna post this later but I'm pretty please with how it turned out so here it is now 😂 I just wanted to write a nervous reader meeting cheeky Alfie! Enjoy!❤️

WC- 3.2k

Main Masterlist

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"WAIT! Don't go! You can't!"

"And why is that Treacle?"

".....because I love you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A little while earlier)

Mr. Shelby had given you one job. Only one job left today and he said it was vey important that you complete it at all costs and by any means necessary. If you failed there maybe be a lot of trouble and not just for you. But what was that job?

Keep Alfred Solomons inside the office...

It was after closing time at the betting shop and while almost everyone else had gone home you were still working on a few papers Mr. Shelby wanted done by tomorrow. And while they wouldn't take too long, you were still a newer secretary at the company and rather eager to please your bosses. You were also one of the younger secretaries and this was one of your first jobs that consisted of more than stocking shelves or sweet talking rude customers in the bakery. And while everything had gone smoothly so far, you still found yourself accepting the extra work from time to time in order to get in your boss's good graces. He still paid for the time of course, very well actually. But as you'd learn today, late office hours often came with unexpected surprises too. 

One of these began when Mr. Shelby suddenly walked through the main floor towards his office. Only he wasn't alone. Walking a few paces behind him was another man. You'd recognized him as Alfie Solomons, an imposing man who owned the "Bakery" that Arthur Shelby was always grumbling about. You hadn't actually spoken to him or even met him yet. The most you'd gotten was rumors from the other women in the shop about all the terrible things he'd done. Even worse than some of the rumours about your boss. But tonight it appeared that would change. You didn't miss the quick glance made towards you by the Camden Town man when Mr. Shelby passed your desk with a quick acknowledgment, before heading straight to his office.

Only six minutes into the important meeting, Mr. Shelby had been called to the Garrison to deal with a fight started by his brothers. He had been annoyed to no end at having to fix yet another one of his brothers' impulsive decisions, but seeing as Polly was helping Esme with her new baby, he was the only one left to go. Well, the only one Arthur and John would listen to if they were half as drunk as Finn said. And Finn himself was also being dragged back to the bar by Tommy to help control his brothers too, so he couldn't watch the other gangster either. Even if he lacked his brother's stomachs for fighting, Finn still had almost a head over each of them and could hold them back well enough if needed. 

So Tommy brought him along too, leaving you behind with the order to keep the other gangster company until he returned. It didn't matter that Alfie had already agreed to waiting until Tommy came back. Or in his words "graciously relented more of his precious time" in the name of "proof of his good will." Tommy still didn't want him snooping around the office while he was gone. So he'd given you strict instructions to keep the gruff man in his office until he got back. You were also to make sure he didn't mess with much in there either. 

You'd never anticipate just how astray that one plan would take you...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi. I'm Y/N, one of the secretaries. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Shelby wanted me to look at his typewriter and clean up the office a bit before I left. One of the keys has been a bit sticky lately. So don't let me both you, and if you need anything let me know and I can get it for you."

You'd figured that had been a pretty decent thing to open with. It was a good excuse for staying in the office, and Tommy had wanted you to fix the key for a while now. But you started to rethink your opener, as all you got in return was a brief nod from Mr. Solomons who continued to read over the paper in his hands. Pursing your lips in a line and feeling slightly awkward now, you just nodded to yourself moving to Mr. Shelby's typewriter. You did get a questioning stare after that when you picked up the device and moved it to the table in the middle of the room. That was the table between Mr. Solomon's desk and the door. It meant you had a better chance of stopping him should he try to bolt. Didn't mean it was a big chance though. No, you didn't doubt this man could easily pin you if he tried, and you hoped in the back of your mind that he really did plan to stay as agreed. And so, glancing at the unchanging position of your charge every few minutes, you set to work on pulling apart the typewriter...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silence.

Pure uncomfortable silence had descended upon the small office nearly half an hour after Mr. Shelby left. Well, you found it uncomfortable, but Alfred seemed to have no issue with the quiet that settled over the room. By this point he'd moved from the chair he was originally sitting on to the one behind him, closer to the bookshelf. Which happened to be directly across from your own seat. 

He sat, unbothered, still reading the same contract he had when you came in. He must of gone through it twelve times by now. Occasionally, he'd mumble under his breath, causing your head to shoot up, waiting for something to happen with bated breath. One of these times, to slight humiliation, your head had shot up expecting to see him still looking down at the papers...only to be met with his own piercing eyes. Neither of you spoke at that moment, you just stared eyes wide with surprise while his remained unreadable. The moment was broken by the sound of a siren out of the window causing you to look over. You didn't notice the slight smile the briefly passed the man's face.

It had been fifteen minutes since that moment and you were finally starting to relax, thinking that maybe this really wouldn't be as bad as you thought. Keeping him here didn't seem too bad.

Until, without warning Alfie stood up and quickly walked towards the desk. Thinking he was trying to look at Mr. Shelby's private papers you also shot up. But when he turned back around you saw he was only grabbing a new pen, leaving you standing there... once again staring. He must really be starting to believe you're a creep of some sorts, you thought. Trying to save face you'd headed towards the desk yourself, under the guise of grabbing a piece of paper for the now fixed typewriter. You didn't expect him to, but you were glad the your company didn't point out the stack of paper sitting right next to the machine in the table. And with that, you went back to your seat, trying to calculate how many drinks you'd need after this. 

You couldn't explain it, but for some reason you felt like you were doing this wrong. There was some source of nerves buzzing in the back of your head that just wouldn't settle. You chalked it up to this being the "most important" job you'd been given yet, aside from when Polly had you watch the empty shop for an hour one night after locking up so she could chew one of her nephews out for their latest mess. You had been so nervous about someone trying to break in, you'd almost concussed poor Arthur with his own stapler when he'd come in the back door. The only thing that saved him was the fact he actually fell back on his ass, terrified, because you'd popped out so closely to him. You were also lucky he happened to be sober and registered it was you before fighting back. Neither of you mentioned that night to the others.... and neither of you ever would.

The silence continued for a few endless minutes longer before it was finally broken. Alfie groaned lightly as he got to his feet. Luckily you hadn't stood up this time and were able to slow the rise of your head, looking up at him slightly concerned. Even if you didn't know the man, you'd noticed the slight wince he'd made when he stood up, using the couch arm to stabilise his ascent as he reached for his cane by the table.

"Right. Now that's enough of that poppet. You said if I wanted anything you'd give it to me correct? And now I know what I want so you're gonna help me?"

Eyes wide in shock, both from the fact your burly companion spoke, and of what he spoke, you shot up once again in slight panic. Shit Shit Shit. Not only had his sudden actions threw you off your axis, but now he was also looking at you with a stare that reminded you of how John looked at Esme many times before they'd disappeared to the back rooms for half an hour or so. Esme usually came out looking brilliant as usual, but John wasn't one to hide his messy clothes or the marks on his neck. And now Alfred Solomons seemed to be giving you the same look as his eyes roved your body. He tilted his head and took another step forward, indicating that you still hadn't answered his question.

"I...I did say that yes. What do you need Mr. Solomons?"

"Well let's not dance around anymore. Call me Alfie or Alfred if you'd like treacle. I've seen you starting at me," Alfie moved around the table until he was only a few steps away, "I think you know exactly what I want. I think you know exactly how this is suppose to play out. Your boss leaving you here as 'company' for little ole me? You know what happens now right?"  

The last words were spoken so closely you could feel his breath against your face. Your breath hitched realising what he meant. No. It couldn't be that. You knew Mr. Shelby wanted you to keep his business partner company, but surely he didn't mean that kind of company. Your boss wouldn't do that right? You'd never even met the man before today and he wanted you to....

"Show me where the bathroom is why don't you? I've been needing a piss since the trip up."

Your entire body seemed to relax hearing those words. Yes, Alfred Solomons was a very handsome man, the kind you often fantasised with your friends about meeting one day. But that didn't mean you had any desire to sleep with the man for your boss's benefit. You'd heard about monsters who forced that from their poor secretaries. 'A sweeter part of the business deals' is what some of them wanted. Men like that disgusted you, and you were relieved your boss wasn't that way. If he was though, you believed you'd actually have shot him yourself for such a suggestion. Yes, you had a habit of being quiet and were often anxious about if you were correctly doing your job, but you'd be damned if any man thought he could treat you that way. Your father had taught you how a man should respect a woman and your mother gave you a gun if he didn't. A gun that was currently locked in your nightstand, but nonetheless you figured you'd have time to grab the stapler on Tommy's desk if you needed to. Though now that Solomons had brought it up, the idea wouldn't leave your mind. After all, it was just you and Mr. Solomons in the office. Mr. Shelby wasn't back yet and there was no telling how long he'd be. What if he got to you before you reached the stapler?

"It's alright dove, I'm not gonna hurt ya," Alfie's words broke through your thoughts once again, and you'd nodded this time hearing the truth in his words. He'd noticed you'd relaxed upon his last demand, only to tense up a bit in thought moments later. Based on your quick glance towards the stapler on Tommy's desk, he could tell you were now thinking of another request he'd might have made. One that honestly he wouldn't have minded indulging in he thought, taking another quick look at the woman before him. But he didn't because of the uncertain look in your eye and the scolding voice of his late mother telling him off for what he'd just done. 

He knew it was wrong of him to imply such a thing, especially when he'd only just met you and when you seemed nervous as it was. And for a man who rarely regrets his actions, he did feel a slight hint of guilt for scaring you. His mother would have tore him a whole new asshole if she'd heard him make such a comment, implying what the young woman practically had no choice to do. Given, he certainly had made many comments like those before and they were often eagerly accepted and lead to quite a few passionate nights while Cyril was sent home with Ollie... But that didn't mean now was the time for them. Not when it was late at night alone in Tommy Shelby's office the his secretary he'd met forty five minutes ago. Wouldn't that be a story to hold over the shorter gangster though? The time he bent Tommy's new secretary over the man's own desk in under an hour. Alfie felt the seat of his pants tighten slightly at that idea, but tried to push it off because it still wasn't the time for that. 

"The bathroom is this way."

Your words broke him out of his thoughts and Alfie looked over to see you standing by the office door you'd been guarding so "intensely" the whole time. Like your time in the office, the way to the bathroom was also silent. You walked Alfie all the way up to the door, and he was half surprised you didn't accompany him to actual toilet seat. 

After a few moments standing awkwardly outside the door, feeling like you sister waiting for her five year old son, Alfie finally came out again. He didn't even wait for you as he made his way back through the main floor. But instead of cutting a straight path through the other desks like before, he was weaving his way around and between the tables. Sometimes he'd pause and look at the papers on a seat even though they were likely just blank log pages, everything else having been put away for the night. Then he'd straighten up again and travel a completely different direction than before. And because you wanted to make sure he wouldn't take anything off the other desks, you followed him. 

Up and down and around. If someone were to walk into the company just now, they'd have seen what looked like a two person game of tag....One you seemed to be loosing. Finally he reached the door of Tommy's office again, stopping so suddenly, you almost ran into him. 

"Well that was a rush wasn't it poppet? Had to get me daily exercise in didn't I?"

The intimidation you felt from this man was finally starting to wear off. All of the sudden the mood of environment changed again. Alfie sighed and shrugged his shoulders like he'd made a final decision. 

"Right. That's really enough of that poppet. Seems your Boss is a no show and I'm a busy man," Alfie stated as he gathered up the papers he's been looking at. You froze, watching him stand up and make his way to the door. Shit shit shit. He was joking again right? He was suppose to stay put. But now he's moving towards the door and doing the very thing he wasn't suppose to do. Why was he leaving now? He said he'd stay. Shoot. You wanted to go back to the uncomfortable silence from before.

You looked around the room for a reason to keep him there. But aside from Tommy's stapler, you didn't see any means of holding him back. Besides it wasn't like the stapler would be of much use. Tommy always forgot to refill it when the staples were gone and had a bad habit of stealing yours and never giving it back. Sure, he technically owned every stapler in the building, but you were still very proud of your own little tool. It hardly ever got jammed. But now it was no where in sight and Tommy's stapler was as usual, empty, meaning unless you wanted to beat Alfie over the head with it, you were out of luck. Sure, you could probably toss it at him as a distraction and then roll the desk chair into his bad hip, but that just felt mean. Arthur would absolutely love it and might have given you a raise for doing it even, but there was a larger part of you that spoke against hitting a man in his war wound. That just felt like a special type of cruel. But it meant you were left with no other option but to witness Alfie walk out the door. As you watched, Mr. Shelby's words flew through your head, talking about how important it was for Alfie to stay until he returned and how you need to keep Alfie there at all costs. Suddenly, an idea hit you.

"WAIT! Don't go! You can't!"

"And why is that Treacle?" The words came out absentmindedly, Alfie already focused on what he'd do when he got home.

".....because I love you?"

Alfie's hand was on the door when he froze, hearing your almost desperate plea. Spinning around as much as he could with his hip, he faced you again. Confusion covered his face, quickly replaced by an almost cocky amusement.

"You love me?"

"Yes," you nodded somewhat confidently," I've loved you since the moment I first met you."

Alfie, tilted his head and took a step closer, raising and eyebrow.

"Well poppet, considering moment I met ya was an hour ago, I'd say it's a love that won't take long to get over."

He turned again but this time you shoved yourself infront of the door before he could grab it.

"No it's not!"

"It's not?"

Now Alfie was confused. He'd have remembered meeting a pretty face like yours before, especially it it accompanied your rather memorable personality, you'd shown today. On the other hand, you were cursing yourself out internally, berating yourself for the impulsive lie. Why didn't you just grab the stapler? Scrambling to cover yourself now, you delved deeper into your story.

"It's not. The first time we met was... it was... at.... no by.... It was by..... in .in in.... IN MY DREAMS!! The first time we met was in my dreams and I've been in love with you since then!! Yes that's it!"

You nodded vigorously, smiling, hoping he'd believe you. He didn't obviously, he knew you were still trying to follow your boss's orders.... but damn was this fun to watch. Alfie raised an eyebrow moving a step closer again.

"Are you saying I'm the man of your dreams poppet?"

"Yes! Absolutely. I think about you every night."

"You do?" Alfie was only a step away now. "What exactly about me do you think dove?"

You thought for a moment, scanning his body for things to talk about, not that it would be hard, but you felt a little pressured here. If Alfie moved any closer his beard would brush you chin.

"Beard.... Your beard is fluffy, and looks soft," you started," and your stance is...like a sturdy man's stance..you have pretty eyes too...and you have arms... I like arms. You look like you'd give good hugs... or could like make my bed," Alfie bit his lip, trying not to laugh. "Also legs, you have legs, and a cane for your hip. You could like do stuff with the cane ... maybe I don't know. Some people may like that. I know people into that." You had no clue what your were saying at this point, just rambling and Alfie didn't know if it was embarrassing or enduring. But before you could delve deeper into your hole, he stopped you.

"Alright poppet. I get it don't I? You're madly in love with me and the idea of me leaving just breaks your heart, don't it?"

"Yes?...." You nodded, not believing that he was believing it. Maybe?... "It breaks my heart and that's why you can't leave. You have to stay with me. In here. In this office....So you can't leave. Because I absolutely love you with all my heart and if you were to go I wouldn't know what to do. I'm just lost without you Alfred Solomons. You are the man of my dreams an..."

"Y/N, What the fuck?"

Startled by Finn's voice you cursed, turning around to see not only the youngest Shelby, but Tommy, Arthur, John, and Michael staring at the scene before them. Evidently during your "heartfelt" speech you hadn't noticed them arrive back to the office. Nor had you seen them opening Tommy's door, only to hear the last bit of you professing your "love" for the man who'd screwed them over more times than John had kids....which was to say a lot. Tommy's eyes met yours in confusion and slight concern as your mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to provide an explanation. When he said keep Alfie under control he meant, just make sure the man didn't piss in the whiskey decanters or draw horns on Arthur's picture. He wasn't sure why that involved professing your love. In the back of his mind, it passed that you could be a spy, and Tommy honestly hoped that wasn't the case. He liked you, Lizzie never let him take her stapler. A drunken John just smiled in amusement, pleased with the free entertainment. Meanwhile, Finn and Michael were silently making faces at each other, arguing over who'd grab Arthur's legs, and who'd get arms if he decided to act on the dangerous glare he was giving Alfie. He wasn't actually drunk, but Arthur saw you like another Ada, and he didn't like the idea of Alfie romancing you. Arthur also had a deep seated despise for Alfie in general, but everyone knew that. Now they were all looking at your for an explanation.

Looking over your shoulder, the stapler was still empty.

Perfect.... 

[sissylittlefeather]

Cream (pie) valley

You start working as a nurse at whatever the fuck the name of the boxing place is called in cream valley. Walter keeps getting the shit beat out of him and comes to see you every day. After a few unfortunate events he ends up getting kicked in the balls and comes to you for help, you aren’t expecting much from this baby man, but when he pulls his shorts down you realize his dick is fucking massive. He’s extremely shy about it which just makes him cuter. Things happen and you find out he’s still a virgin and has no idea how to use his massive dick. So you decided to give him a training session if you own to drain his very large very bruised balls in hopes that they’ll feel better (yes this is a breeding thing)

Hey Anonnnn... so I paused my 200 Celebration Requests and wrote this for you. It is so dirtyyyyy but I kinda love it 😂

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m&f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie(s), breeding kink, I think that's all...

Cream(pie) Valley

There aren't too many jobs for nurses in Cream Valley. You have to stay here, though, because who would take care of your mother if you didn't? So, reluctantly, you accept a job working for Willy Grogan's place taking care of the boxers. You're not exactly excited to patch up sweaty, bloody men all the time, but it's a job. It doesn't help that you're young and cute and the only female that isn't Dolly on the premises. It's become like a competition for the guys to see who can get to you first. As such, you've developed a rather chilly demeanor to keep them away. That is, until they bring you Galahad.

After his first sparring match with Joey, his nose and his mouth are both bleeding pretty badly. The guys start to joke with him that he'll have to go see you.

"Ohhh, you're going to have to pay a visit to Nurse Hot Tits!"

"She might be made of ice, but her ass sure jiggles like it's not!"

Walter blushes.

"Aw, no guys, don't talk about 'er like that." He hasn't even met you, but he doesn't like that they're disrespectful.

"You just wait til you see her, Galahad." They laugh and drop him off outside your door. He knocks and nervously waits for you to answer. He's always been a little awkward around pretty girls.

You open the door and it's like he's been punched again in the stomach. He tries to keep his eyes on your face, but he can't help but notice the way your nurse's uniform hugs your curves, accentuating your breasts and hips. He swallows deeply and tries to smile politely.

You're a little taken aback at the sight in front of you. Even with the blood running from his nose, he's beautiful. You're overcome with a need to run your fingers through his hair and slide your other hand down his...

"Hi, ma'am. I'm Walter. They told me you could help me with his." He points to his face.

"Oh! Of course. Come on in, honey." You're shocked by your use of the pet name. But he's as sweet as a baby bunny and you just can't help yourself. He walks into the small office and you help him onto the exam table.

You turn away from him and bend over to get some gauze out of a drawer. His eyes go to your ass and he has to make himself look away. He agrees with the guys that you are indeed attractive, but he would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. It's just not in his DNA to treat women the way other men do.

You come back to him and wipe his face with a wet cloth. Then you roll the gauze up and push it up each nostril. To do this, you have to get pretty close to him. The smell of his sweat and natural musk causes a physical response between your legs. He's even prettier up close. Your hands shake slightly as you wipe his mouth and look at his teeth to make sure nothing is too badly damaged. You have his chin in your hand and it takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss him when you finish.

"Alright. You weren't too beat up. I think you'll survive."

"Well, thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, you can call me y/n- NURSE y/n." You catch yourself just in time.

"Thank you, Nurse y/n." He smiles sweetly again and you try not to melt. You help him down from the exam table and he walks out the front door.

******

When Willy makes the decision to take Galahad to his first fight, he decides you should accompany the team. You've never traveled with them before, but he says you'll be necessary to help patch up Walter after the fight. The idea of this sweet man getting beaten to a pulp doesn't excite you, but you figure being there to help is better than not being there.

You wait in the back for the fight to be over. Watching is just too much even when it's not Walter, but especially when you know he's going to have the shit kicked out of him. Finally, you hear the noise of the crowd cheering. It's over and they'll be bringing him back any second now. You just pray he's not on a stretcher.

And he's not. He's standing up! He won! There's a flurry of activity around him as everyone claps him on the back, but he's still bleeding pretty good. When you see his face, you push all the men out of the way and demand that they let you work.

"Aw, hi, Nurse y/n! Didja hear that I won?"

"I did. Now, let me see you and take care of your face." He smiles sheepishly and sits down for you to examine him. You go to work with gauze while he sits still and lets you do your thing. He can't help thinking, though, that he'd like to put his hands on your hips and pull you into his lap. He adjusts himself in his seat and clears his throat.

"Are you almost finished, ma'am?"

"Yes. I'm done." You stand up and take a step backwards to keep yourself from trying to kiss him. "And what did I say about calling me ma'am?"

"Of course, y/n." He drops the "nurse" and it makes your knees weak. There's something about this man that makes you want to climb on top of him and ride him into oblivion. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't try to flirt with you. Maybe it's the fact that his seeming innocence feels like a cover for something else. It's like he's hiding something behind his gentle eyes and sweet smile, but you can't quite put your finger on it. You want to put more than a finger on it, but you'll have to wait. He doesn't seem interested in you, really.

Once you've got him all patched up, he stands up and goes back to the group of men who are talking and laughing about the match. He tries to catch glimpses of you cleaning up your supplies when he can, but he doesn't want you to notice him looking.

******

You spend the next few months traveling around with the team for fight after fight and win after win. Still, you always have to clean him up afterwards, and the closeness to him when you do drives you both wild. Neither of you lets on, though, and you continue in chaste friendship.

That is, until you get back to the Catskills. You're sitting in your office with a magazine when you hear a weak knock on the door.

"Y/n? Are you in there? I need... help..."

You rush to the door when you hear Walter's voice and the distress in it, opening it carefully. He stumbles into the office and leans against the exam table.

"Walter, what happened?" His face seems to be fine, but he's obviously in pain.

"We were just messing around, not really practicing, but one of the guys hit me... pardon me, ma'am, but he hit me in... well... between my legs." He winces at the thought of the encounter. You blush, knowing this means you'll have to examine him. You just pray you can keep it professional.

"Okay, well, I'm not sure what all I can do for you, but I'll need to look and make sure there's not any serious damage."

"Oh, um, o-okay." He stands there staring at you.

"You'll need to remove your shorts." He blushes deep red and looks down at himself.

"I-I think I'm okay." The thought of you looking at him naked makes his cock twitch.

"Nonsense. I need to check. Drop 'em." He swallows hard and puts his thumbs under his waistline.

"Are ya sure? I'm feeling much better..."

"Do I need to remove them for you?" You're trying very hard to keep a professional demeanor, but there's a big part of you that really wants to see him. But it's important that you make sure he's not really injured, too. Finally, he slides his shorts down and lets them fall to his ankles, intentionally looking away from you and breathing deeply.

You're very glad that he's looking away because your mouth drops open when you see him. His dick is massive. You've been a nurse (and a woman) long enough to have seen a good number of naked men. But this is unlike anything you've ever seen before. You snap your mouth shut to keep from drooling when it starts to water. You're also very thankful for the thick fabric of your uniform that hides your hardening nipples. You clear your throat, pulling on some gloves, and get on your knees in front of him.

"Okay, I'll need you to-to spread... your legs a bit..." He looks down at you, his heart pounding and shuffles his feet out a bit. The picture of you on your knees in front of him causes him to harden a little. He thinks about anything else trying desperately to keep himself flaccid. But when you put your fingers on him to push him out of the way, he fails miserably.

You gently lift his member out of the way so that you can examine his balls, but when you do, you notice that it gets progressively harder as you touch it. Your stomach flip flops, but you try to stay focused. You gently touch his balls to examine them and he winces.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

"No..." he whispers. "I mean, yes, a little." The feeling of your fingers gently fondling him is driving him insane.

When you notice how hard his dick is, you realize that you're not the only one feeling the way that you are. Your panties are dripping wet between your legs, matching his erection in desire. You massage him gently and look up at him from your position on the floor. He leans his head back and moans softly. You pull your hands back and he looks down at you suddenly. Yanking your gloves off, you stand up from your position on the floor.

"I think what they need to feel better is... emptying..." His breath catches in his throat.

"Ma'am?"

"You heard me."

"Oh, now I can't do that here in front of ya."

"Well, I could... I could help you... if you want." You can't believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. This is horribly unprofessional, but you don't care anymore. You need to feel him and his immense cock inside you.

He looks at you and his innocence is painfully obvious in his eyes.

"I've never..." It dawns on you that he has no idea what he's got here or how to use it. Well, turns out you're just the woman to teach him.

"That's okay. I can show you... if you'd like..." He nods his head wildly. In this moment, he wants nothing more than to listen to your every instruction and do exactly what you say.

"Show me. Please." You walk up close to him and take one of his hands and put it on the back of your neck. You put the other one around your waist and he pulls you in close, kissing you deeply. He might be a virgin, but he knows what he's doing with his tongue in your mouth. You feel his cock twitch again pressed up against your hip, so you put your hand on him and slowly move it up and down, pulling his foreskin back. He has to stop kissing you to let out the moan that he can't contain.

"Take my dress off." He fumbles with the buttons but eventually gets it off of you. His eyes are as wide as plates when he sees you in your underwear. You go ahead and undo your bra and slide your panties down. Somehow, his eyes widen even more.

"Wow." He whispers as he looks at you standing naked in front of him.

"Put me on the exam table." He picks you up easily by your rib cage and sets your bottom on the table. You've never noticed before that it's the perfect height for him to line his hips up with yours.

"Now, you're going to have to warm me up a little before we do this."

"Warm you up?" You take his hand and push two of his fingers inside you.

"Oh!" He watches as you push them in and out. You move your hand away and lay back as he continues what he's doing. He adds a third finger all by himself and you arch your back and moan.

"Can I? Are you ready?"

You look up at him and he's holding himself while he fingers you, obviously in desperate need to be inside you.

"Yes." He puts both hands on your hips and yanks you to the edge of the table. You yelp a little at this sudden show of dominance and he seems to shock himself.

"I'm sorry-"

"Do not apologize. Now come here." You use your hand to guide his tip to your entrance.

"You're going to need to go slow. You're a little... bigger... than average." You say, which is a complete understatement.

"Okay. Just keep tellin' me what to do." He pushes into you slowly and you feel yourself stretch around him.

"Nope. Stop." You hate to stop him when you see the look in his eyes, but there's no way this will work like this. "I need to be wetter."

You pull back off of him, lick your fingers, and start to massage your clit. He looks at what you're doing.

"I can do that."

"No, you do this part." You take his fingers and push them back inside you.

"Well, what if I..." He moves your hand away from yourself and lowers his face down to you. Then, he uses his tongue to mimic the motions you were just making with your finger.

"Oh my god, Walter!" You grab onto the edges of the table as he licks and sucks your clit. He keeps moving his fingers in and out of you as well. You feel your climax building as he keeps up a steady pace with his tongue while finger-fucking you. He's absolutely relentless in his mission, even though you're not sure he's aware of his goal. Finally, you come hard on his hand, shuddering and pulsing around his fingers, the energy from your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure.

"Well, that made you wetter." He laughs a little as you ride out your body high.

"Yeah." You answer, chest heaving. "Okay, try again." You lay back on the table with your ankles on his shoulders while he holds your hips, pushing into you slowly. He grunts as he does it. It's taking everything in him to go slow and not just try to slam into you. Your pussy feels so good around him and he wants more.

You feel yourself stretch to accommodate his girth. You've never felt this completely filled before and he's not even finished yet.

"Wait. Try thrusting a little bit." His eyes light up.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"Yes, I think it'll help."

"Tell me if you need me to stop." He slowly pulls back and fills you again. You moan in unison. He does it again and it feels like you might die with how good it is to have him pushing against you, stretching you out over and over again. As he pushes into you, he goes a little deeper each time. Finally, you feel his hips meet yours completely and his balls slap against your ass.

"Oh fuck!" You cry out and he stops.

"Good or bad?"

"Don't stop! It's so good!"

"Oh thank God. I'm not sure I could stop now." He goes back to pounding into you, now with more force since he knows he isn't hurting you, the sound of his balls against you filling the otherwise quiet office. You cry out with each thrust and you can tell he's getting close by the way he picks up speed.

"Where should I...?"

"Don't pull out. I want to feel you come inside me."

"Are you sure?"

"Put a baby in me, Walter." Something about the way you say it sends him absolutely over the edge and he comes, hard, all over inside you.

"Oh, yes! Y/n, yes!" Even when he's mid-orgasm, he doesn't cuss. You lean forward and pull his mouth down to yours and kiss him. He slides out, still partially erect and you get an idea.

You hop off the exam table and fall to your knees in front of him, dripping with his desire and yours. Holding him still with both hands, you put your mouth around him as far as you can go and he almost falls over on top of you.

"Y/n! What are you doin'?" You lick and suck on as much of him as you can get in your mouth before you answer him. He's holding onto the edge of the exam table groaning when you finally back off of him.

"I haven't had enough of you yet. Have you had enough of me?" He's fully erect again, so you know the answer.

"No." He grabs you and bends you over the exam table. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you from behind. He goes slow, but not nearly as slow as last time. Before you know it, he's filling you fully, slamming his hips into your ass as he fucks you from behind. Again, you're shocked by his dominance, but you don't question it. He grabs the back of your hair and pulls and you cry out in pleasure. You feel his fingers pressing into on your hips and you wonder if he'll leave bruises. Everything about what he's doing has you hoping it goes on forever.

"Yes, fuck, Walter."

"You want my baby?"

"Yes, yes please." You whimper as he pounds into you. It hurts, but in the best way possible and you love every minute of it.

"Say it."

"I want your baby inside me."

When you say that, it pushes him over the edge and he shudders and slams into you one last time, filling you with his seed again.

"Yes! Y/n!" He yells as he moans through his climax. He pulls out of you and staggers to a chair in the office, dropping into it.

"Wow. Walter, I-"

"I'm-"

"-don't you dare apologize. That was incredible." He smiles sheepishly. You stand leaning against the exam table trying to get your bearings back. He gets up and walks to you, wrapping you in a passionate kiss.

"I-I-I'd like to do that again sometime." You lay your head on his broad chest.

"Me too. But not just yet. I need a few days to recover." He laughs.

"Well, I'm here whenever you're ready, honey."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101

Wasn't sure who else would want a Walter tag!

[crimsonredfeathers]

Leaving

~*~ Chapter 8 ~*~

Hawks x slightly older!fem!Reader

Warnings: more fluff coming your way

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: Instead of working on the story in a chronological order, I've recently been working on the later chapters and thus left you waiting once again. I'm sorry for being such a mess 😂

Prologue * Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10

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You checked in to the hotel you had booked online after Hawks had given you his okay for the trip. The building was small, and so were the rooms, but it had gotten good reviews for being clean and the staff being friendly. You did recognize the hotel on the website right away, as you had passed it way too many times in the years you had been living here.

Once you had closed and locked the door behind you, you put your suitcase on the bed and opened the zipper. After retrieving some of your clothing, you got rid of your coat, carefully placing it on the bed to prevent the feather inside of the pocket from being crushed. You had another hour left before you'd leave the hotel and join your friends for dinner. A nice, warm shower was exactly what you'd longed for on your way through the chilling cold to the hotel. Humming, you went into the bathroom.

~*~

"Oi, y/n," your former boss called out as he pulled you into a hug. "Good to see you, girl, come in, come in!" He ushered you into his house, a beautiful one at that, you thought every time you had visited. It was small and cozy, traditional with sliding doors and tatami on the floor. His wife, cute as a button, greeted you by bowing before pulling you into a tight hug as well. "Look at you! All grown-up now! How have you been, dear? We sure miss you over here!" Her bubbly personality made you laugh. "Thank you so much for inviting me! I'm sorry, but Hawks couldn't -" She let go of you and offered to take your coat while her husband patted your shoulder. "We understand, girl. He's a young hero with many duties. Maybe he can make it next year," he winked. "I hope so," you smiled, thinking about the feather that still rested in the pocket of your coat. Well, somehow, he was here with you after all.

You changed into some slippers. "Come on, dear, everyone is waiting for you," the wife said, smiling, and led the way over to the dining room. You followed behind her, her husband limping, a remnant of the injuries he had sustained, as he walked behind the both of you. Entering the dining room, you were met with the faces of every single one of your former colleagues, their partners and children, cheering for you, and welcoming you home. It took you a moment to collect yourself before you went and hugged every single person in this room.

Together with a few of the other girls, you helped the wife to bring in the food and place it on the table before dinner started. All of you had fun catching up, talking about their new jobs and what was happening in their private lives. One of your former bosses' sidekicks laid his arm around his wife's shoulders, smiling proudly as he told all of you that they were finally expecting.

To your dismay, it didn't take long until all eyes were on you. "How is working for Hawks going?" You gulped as you looked at the former head-secretary of the office. "Hawks?!" Her little daughter squealed. She must be a fan of him, you concluded. "I heard he's sooooo fast," the son of an ex-sidekick chimed in, spreading his arms to both sides. "And he's popular with the ladies," the sidekick's wife added. "Wasn't he invited, too?" Your former boss nodded. "Unfortunately, the son couldn't make it, being all tied up in work. You know, how it is," he shrugged and gladly changed the topic of the conversation to spare you further questions.

~*~

You and the other girls helped wash the dishes after dinner, having a few good laughs while sharing old stories with each other. When the task of cleaning up was finished, you hugged everyone once again, bid them goodbye and promised to join them again as soon as possible, before you made your way over to the hotel you were staying in.

~*~

After getting ready for bed, you carefully pulled the small feather out of your coat pocket and placed it onto your nightstand. "Good night, Hawks," you whispered, not quite sure if he'd be able to pick up on what you said over such a long distance. You cuddled into the sheets of the hotel bed, yawning. After a moment of contemplating, you reached for the feather and carefully ran a single finger over its soft structure. "Sleep tight, birdie," you yawned again as you retracted your hand and finally went to sleep.

~*~

The next morning, you wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, protecting yourself from the cold as much as you could, and left the hotel with your suitcase to walk over to the train station. At this point, you still had more than two hours before your train would leave. You had planned to browse through some of the gift shops until it was time to board the train. It was the 28th of December, Hawks' birthday, and you'd make sure not to come back to Kyushu with empty hands.

The first two stores were lovely, but nothing really caught your eye. The third one was mostly stocked with drinks and food, and, of course, you knew about Hawks' love for good food. You looked around for a while until a package of mochi caught your attention. They were made in the region and packed in a lovely little box, decorated with the drawing of a red tailed hawk. You smiled to yourself. This was perfect. You paid for the box and went to board your train. And around noon, you were back in Kyushu.

Leaving the train station, you got your phone out and dialed Hawks' number. "Y/n?" He sounded surprised. "Hawks, are you at the agency?" There was silence for a few seconds. "No, I'm at my apartment." Damn. "I just got back and thought, well, since it's your birthday -" Hawks laughed light-heartedly. "You remembered my birthday?" Of course. "I sure did," you said, matter of factly. Silence again. "Well, you aren't too far away from my apartment. Just unbutton your pocket, and my feather will lead you." You did as you were told, and the feather shot out of your pocket, circling your head a few times before floating in front of you. "Alright, see you in a few minutes then." You ended the call, and, sure enough, the feather started moving. About 10 minutes later, you stood in front of a massive skyscraper.

~*~

Hawks opened the door, wearing some sweatpants and a random shirt. You'd never really seen him wear anything else but his hero costume. Maybe he'd gotten rid of his jacket at some point or another because of the unbearable heat, but that was about it.

"What," he asked curiously while his stray feather reconnected to his left wing. Of course, it didn't slip his mind that you'd been studying him. "Is this how you celebrate your birthday?" He just shrugged. Come to think of it... You pulled the little box of mochi out of your bag and held it out for him to take. "Happy Birthday, Hawks! I know it's not much, but it reminded me of you," you laughed. His eyes grew wide before he chuckled, accepting the gift. "Thank you. It definitely does fit my taste, songbird." There it was again, the nickname he had given you. "Well, I should be on my way home by now," you smiled, ready to let him go back to enjoying his birthday. "You sure you don't wanna come in?" Hawks tilted his head. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to leave right away. "I'd hate to interrupt your party -" He stepped aside to let you take a look into his empty apartment. "What party?"

You stared at him for a moment before a soft chuckle left your lips. "I see," you muttered under your breath. You wouldn't just leave Hawks all to himself on his birthday and, quite frankly, no matter how much fun you had meeting your friends back at home, you'd missed him dearly. "Wanna order some pizza?"

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Taglist: @claratakami @chrisrue15

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A huge thanks to everyone who's reading and supporting this story! See you next chapter ❤️👋

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Title: Two Sides, Same Coin

Pairing: Jim Gordon/Reader, !Past Quentin Lance/Reader

Rating: PG13 (some suggestive language, dark humor)

Summary: When your former partner shows up in Gotham City asking for help on a case, Jim gets a bit jealous after learning more about your history.

Notes: This idea came from the previous oneshot I posted, Sleep Just To Dream. I started thinking about exploring the reverse, where Jim is jealous and Reader has to reassure him. Also, Quentin Lance from the Arrowverse, makes an appearance in this one shot. I realize that they are veeery loosely the same universe, and at the end of the day, not really since the Nolanverse is sort of stand alone, but too bad. I did it. It's done. I am not sorry, Paul Blackthorne is hot as well 😂 Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Warning: mentions of alcoholism, past trauma.

DD5s were among the most boring paperwork that existed in law enforcement, but much to your chagrin, they were necessary. You, of course, were a master procrastinator, letting them pile up until you had little choice but to finish them lest you not be able to ever find your desk with how many there were to enter into the system. While you waited on the result of a DNA sample, you had some time to kill and decided to at least get started on them, when a familiar voice sounded from behind you.

“I see you still let your paperwork pile up.”

A smile formed on your lips as you swiveled your chair around before you stood. “Like you’re any better than I am.” Closing the couple of steps between you, you flung your arms around your former partner, Detective Quentin Lance of SCPD. “How’ve you been, Lance?”

“Oh, you know,” he answered, hugging you back. “One day at a time, keep it simple.”

The common AA phrases made your smile widen as you pulled away. Quentin had fallen on hard times after his daughter, Sara, died, turning to his work and alcohol to help him drown the pain. Of course, having you for a partner — a rookie who had just earned her shield and was still in the throes of her early twenties — hadn’t exactly helped. In the end, his vices had cost him his marriage, which only seemed to make things worse for a while. By the time you had transferred to Gotham, he had better control over his drinking, though he would still go on a bender every once in a while.

“That’s great to hear. I’m proud of you, Quentin.”

“Thanks,” he said, returning your smile. “How about you, huh? Looks like you’re doing pretty good here.” He glanced around the precinct for emphasis.

Your eyes flickered to Jim’s office, where he was hunched over paperwork as you nodded. “Yeah, things are great.” You look back at Quentin. “So, what brings you all the way to Gotham?”

“Actually, hoping to talk to you about a case I’m workin’. Background check showed the perp has a record in Gotham City, I wondered if you could let me have a look at them.”

“Yeah, sure, I just have to clear it with my Sarge, but I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you replied, gesturing to Jim with one hand. “But you could’a called for that, so… what gives? Why fly all the way across the country?”

He smiled nervously in an effort to mask the fact that he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “You got me. Uh…” He glanced around the room again. “My captain doesn’t exactly know I’m here. Sorta used some of my PTO to come here on a hunch.”

You nodded once. “Okay.”

“Captain wants me to let this one go, but —”

“You can’t,” you offered with a smile.

He held out his hands at his sides. “You know me, once I get my hooks in something —”

“You don’t let go until you’ve reeled it in,” you finished, adding fondly, “Same ole Quentin.”

There was a bit of pink that made its way to his cheeks as he mirrored your nod and lowered his eyes.

“You got a name?”

“Yeah!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, unfolding it and handing it to you. “Tyson Beckett, I like him for a string of homicides.”

“Okay. Give me a couple hours? We can go for a cup of coffee,” you suggested.

“Yeah, that’d be great. I appreciate any help you can give,” he replied. “I’ll just run to the hotel. Be back in two? Sound good?”

“Sounds great, see you then,” you answered.

“Alright,” he said, taking a step back, his smile warm and nostalgic. “It’s good to see you.”

Your cheeks grew warm as you answered, “It’s good to see you, too, partner.”

You waited until he left the precinct before you walked to Jim’s office, leaned against the doorframe and knocked on the open door. He looked up and gave you a smirk, returning his attention to the report he was filling out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be clearing your DD5s?” he asked.

“I was,” you answered, stepping into the office and closing the door, as was your habit any time you discussed police business to ensure you didn’t have any unintended listeners. “Quentin Lance is in town.”

He didn’t look up as he replied. “Your old partner from Starling City?”

“Yeah, he was asking about a suspect for a case he’s working. Apparently the guy has a record in Gotham, Lance wanted to know if he could have a look at those files.”

“He came all the way here in person for that?” Jim asked, finally looking up at you. “He could’a done that in a phone call.”

You bobbed your shoulders. As much as you hated being evasive with Jim, Lance was once your partner, and the habit of covering for your partner wasn’t an easy one to shake. “Yeah, I dunno, I guess it’s just a sensitive case.”

Jim smirked and leaned back in his seat as he arched a brow at you. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You should’ve known Jim would see right through you. “Well, you might have an unfair advantage. You’ve seen me naked, been inside me, so.”

His smirk widened. “My favorite place to be.”

Trying to suppress a smile, you nodded as your cheeks warmed under his stare.

“Look, I get it, he was your partner, you’re covering for him,” he said, letting his chair fall gracefully back into place, his elbows propping themselves against the edge of his desk. “But if there's something I should know, I hope you’ll tell me.”

You averted your eyes, taking a deep breath. “His captain doesn’t exactly know he’s here.”

“So he’s gone rogue,” Jim assumed.

“Sort of. Look, Lance is… he’s a bit bullheaded. Once he catches a bone, it’s really hard to get him to let go.”

Sighing heavily, Jim leaned back in his seat again, rocking back and forth. “You trust him?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and sat up again. “If this somehow comes back to bite us, it’s gonna be on you,” he warned.

“Understood.”

“That the name?” he asked, gesturing with his eyes and a nod at the slip in your hand.

You set down the scrap of paper Quentin had given you. “Tyson Beckett. Quentin likes him for a string of murders back in Starling.”

“Yeah, I’ll put a call down to Admin, let them know you’re coming down.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Turning to leave, you got as far as the door when you considered whether you should tell him about the history you and Lance had. On one hand, it had been one drunken night of passion, and had led nowhere. At the time, you were far too focused on proving yourself a worthy detective and Quentin was too focused on drowning his grief that it had only been one night. Still, you felt compelled to be forthcoming, especially since your relationship with Jim was so much deeper.

“Actually, there’s one other thing that — in the spirit of honesty — I should probably tell you,” you said, turning to face him and slipping your fingers into your front pockets.

“What is it?”

Your lips began to form the words, and you rattled off the cliff notes as quickly as you could. “We sort of hooked up this one time. Years ago. It was no big deal, didn’t mean anything, it was just the one time. Okay, bye!”

You started to open the door.

“Wait a minute, wait!” he called out, one hand reaching in your direction. He swatted at the air, silently telling you to close the door again.

You did, mentally preparing for whatever would come, hands sliding into your pockets again.

“You can’t just say that and then walk out.”

“It was really nothing,” you tried to assure him.

“Well, it wasn’t nothing. You ‘hooked up’, does that mean…” He waited for you to fill in the blank.

“We had sex, one time. It was a stupid, drunken hook up. It didn’t mean anything, and it never happened again,” you explained.

Jim let out a breath, slumping back in his seat as he tried to digest what you had just told him. Looking back at you, he tilted his head. “Well, this sort of changes things, doesn't it?”

“Why would it?”

“How do you know that’s not the real reason he’s here? This whole Tyson Beckett case could be a ruse just to see you again.”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “It’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s ridiculous! First of all, I’m with you, and anyway, he lives in Starling City. I live here.”

“Maybe he’s hoping to convince you to go back,” Jim replied.

You shook your head, unable to help the way a smile played on your face. “I doubt that. And if by some crazy chance, you’re right, he’s gonna be sorely disappointed.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Arching a brow, you cross your arms over your chest and shifted to face him dead on. “Are you jealous?”

He scoffed, making to go back to his report. “No, I’m not jealous.”

“Really?” you replied, doubt lacing the word.

“No, I’m just saying you should be prepared in case that does turn out to be the reason he came all the way here. That’s all,” he said with a bob of his shoulders, going back to his report.

You tried to keep yourself from smiling and rolled your eyes, opening the door and leaving his office. As you went back to your desk, your eyes fell on the DD5s still await your attention, and you groaned to yourself. You looked back toward Jim’s office and saw that he was on the phone, likely with the Administrative Department to request the records you’d asked for. Pulling your jacket from the back of your chair, you put it on and began to walk toward the elevators when your partner called out to you.

“Y/L/N, we got something?”

“No, I’m just headed downstairs for a sec,” you answered. “I’ll be right back.”

About ten minutes before you were expecting Quentin to meet up with you, you pulled out your compact of lip balm. The cold weather always took its toll on your lips, and the only thing that worked was your Sugar Coconut lip balm. You gathered some on your finger and spread it on your lips liberally, drawing in your lips to spread it evenly.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked from behind you.

You jolted slightly and turned to look, spotting him about halfway between your desk and his office. Turning back to face forward, you closed the compact and put it back in your drawer. “Putting on lip balm.”

“Why?”

“Because my lips are dry?” you answered.

He came up to sit in the chair beside your desk, facing you. “What, is Lance gonna feel them or something?”

You could tell he had tried to make the question sound playful, maybe even a little sarcastic, but in the end, his tone had been annoyed, and just slightly wounded.

“Gordon.”

“What?” He shrugged, trying to play innocent.

“Stop it,” you said as a smile came to your lips.

“When’s he coming back for this?” he asked, gesturing with his head at the file that was sitting on your desk.

“He should be here in just a few minutes. We’re gonna go get coffee downstairs,” you answered, trying to sneak in one last DD5 before Quentin showed up.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he replied.

This time when a smile threatened to break through, you did little to stop it. “It’s just coffee. There’s no need for you to be jealous.”

“I told you, I’m not jealous.”

Somehow you sincerely doubt that, but you said nothing, quickly putting in the DD5 in front of you before setting it in the finished pile.

“It’s nice to see you’re actually getting some work done, but then I guess coffee with Quentin is a nice incentive.”

“Oh — My God,” you replied in a chuckle, looking up at him. “Do you wanna just come with us?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Thank you, but I do not want to come to coffee with you and your ex.”

“He hardly qualifies as my ex,” you said.

“Is this your way of getting back at me for the Brooke Shields thing?”

“What? No —”

“Cause I didn’t actually have sex with Brooke Shields, you at least got to have sex,” he said.

“Don’t piss me off,” you pleaded.

He put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Do you want me to not go? We can just go over the file here at my desk and drink the precinct coffee.”

“No,” he replied, brows furrowing. “No, I trust you.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

A distant ding made you look toward the elevators just as Quentin was getting off, making his way toward your desk.

“There he is, please be nice,” you mumbled to Jim as you stood.

“I’m always nice,” he replied, standing as well and looking over at the dark-haired, older man walking toward you, muttering under his breath. “Well, you certainly have a type.”

A huff of a laugh burst from your lips and you turned your face away, shaking your head. “Stop it.” Turning back to Quentin, you gave him a smile as he walked up. “Detective Lance, this is Sergeant Gordon. Sarge, meet Detective Lance, my old partner from SCPD.”

“Good to meet you, Sergeant,” Quentin said, holding out his hand.

Jim glanced down at it, and shook it politely, and to your relief replied, “Nice meeting you, too, Detective.”

“Really appreciate your help on this case. This guy always seems to be two steps ahead, I’m hoping maybe he wasn’t so careful when he was first startin’ out.”

“Yeah, sure. Hope this helps,” Jim replied with a nod before he looked back at you. “See you when you get back?”

“Yes,” you answered, giving his hand a squeeze before you picked up the file and followed Quentin back to the elevator.

You got back to the precinct about forty-five minutes later, file in hand, which you promptly took to the fax machine. Mostly everyone was gone besides Jim, who was still in his office judging by the fact that it was one of the few lights still on in the place. After faxing the files to Quentin’s hotel, you went to Jim’s office.

“Knock, knock,” you said, coming to a stop in the doorway.

Looking up from the file on his desk, he leaned back in his chair. “How’d it go?”

“Great, actually.” You held up the file and stepped into his office, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “It’s a good thing we had this in our records. I think it might’ve cracked his case. I just faxed over some copies for him to take back to Starling City.”

“Well good, I’m glad you two still make such a good team,” he replied.

His mustache shifted just enough for you to tell that he was subtly smirking, and a smile teased your own lips.

“I’m not his partner anymore,” you replied. “Would it be okay if we lock this up in here tonight? I can take it back in the morning. I hate going to the basement this late, it’s creepy.”

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, leaning forward to take the file from you and putting it in the top drawer of his desk. “Look, I’m sorry for being a little nutty before. But the thought of you with some other man — touching you, kissing you the same way I do…” He shrugged as a sigh blew through his lips. “It made me a little nutty.”

“I’ll say.”

“And then seeing that same guy going to get coffee with you, it just…”

“I’m sorry. That’s not why I told you about Quentin. I only told you because if you had somehow found out some other way, I didn’t want you to think I was trying to keep it from you. I wasn’t trying to make you feel jealous or upset, I swear.”

“I know,” he said. “And I really am glad we were able to help him.”

You nodded. “He really needed the win, so, me too.”

“Yeah, I know. I checked him out after you left earlier,” he said.

“You vetted my old partner?” you asked with a smirk.

“Course, I did. I wanted to know more about the guy that was taking my girlfriend on a coffee date,” he answered, mirroring your expression.

“It was more of a meeting that happened to include coffee.”

“Whatever it was, I know he’s been having trouble at SCPD these last few weeks. Hopefully this’ll help turn things around for him,” he said, closing the open file on his desk and standing up. “Now, come on. Let’s get home.”

“What about my DD5s? I’ve still got a few to input into the system,” you asked, thumb pointed toward your desk as he came around to stand in front of you, close enough that you could feel his body heat against your own.

“You can finish them tomorrow. Right now, I just wanna take you home, take off all our clothes, crawl into bed and do unspeakable things to you,” he said, moving some hair behind your shoulder, the tip of his finger grazing across your neck.

Goosebumps erupted on your arms, nipples tightening against the lace material of your bra and your breath deepening. “Fine by me.”

[alj4890]

Hii 🥰

I saw this picture and thought it might inspire a fic or an edit (no pressure 🥰)

I'm so sorry this took so long to answer @peonierose 🤦🏻‍♀️ I had a lot of Choices couples in mind for this picture 😂 It has taken me a while to think of just the right story for this one and I think I finally have. After seeing Ethan tortured in some of my fics recently, I decided to do a drabble of him and an OC I mentioned in A Glimpse. For this story, we see how these two got together.

(Ethan Ramsey x OC*Sophie Triano) with some urging from (Tobias Carrick x Chris Valentine) in a Choices Open Heart drabble

@hopelessromantic1352 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter

Rating G for fluff

Masterlist

Something Sweet

"How was Bora Bora?" Ethan asked.

"Perfection itself." Tobias replied. "Chris and I had the best time there."

Ethan studied him. "You don't look very tan for a man who has been on an island for two weeks."

Tobias smirked. "But I do look tan enough for a man who was on a honeymoon with his wife."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Where's Chris?"

"Studying with Sienna." Tobias replied.

He eyed Ethan for a moment. Since they were alone, he decided to find out what happened after he and Chris left their wedding reception.

"By the way, how did you get back to the hotel?"

"How do you think?" Ethan replied.

"Who gave you a ride?" Tobias asked.

"Your brother did."

"Which one?"

Ethan stopped trying to complete some paperwork. He leaned back in his chair, set his hands behind his head, and focused silently on Tobias.

"It was Hugh." He finally said. "Why?"

"No reason." Tobias grumbled.

Ethan went back to work.

"If you rode with Hugh, then you must have ridden with Veronica."

"That would be a logical assumption since she is married to your brother." Ethan drily remarked.

Tobias refused to comment on that. "And if you were with Veronica, then you must have met her cousin, Sophie."

Ethan glanced up, eyes narrowed.

"So?" Tobias moved Ethan's laptop to the side. "What did you think of her?"

"She seems nice."

"Nice?" Tobias groaned. "Come on, Ethan."

"Can we get back to work or do you feel the need to bother me a little longer?"

Tobias shook his head. "Sophie is just your type."

"You haven't known my type since college." Ethan pointed out.

Tobias quirked an eyebrow and waited.

Ethan glared at him for the reminder he had fallen for Chris too.

"Sophie looks nothing like her." He bit out.

"I know that, but she has some similar personality traits that I think you'll like."

Tobias decided to drop that brief comparison when Ethan glared bordered on murderous.

"Hugh told me Sophie moved to Boston."

"She moved back to Boston." Ethan corrected, grateful to not be talking anymore about finding a woman like Chris. "Veronica and Sophie are expanding their business. She opened a bakery here a couple of months ago."

"Have you been by yet?"

Ethan rubbed a hand down his face. "I haven't."

He held his hand up to silence Tobias the moment he saw his mouth open.

"If I say I'll go by later this week, will you drop the subject and let me finish what I was typing?"

"I'll drop it for now, but we are discussing it again and again until you go see her." Tobias smirked at him.

"You are a colossal pain in my ass, you know that?" Ethan grumbled. "Go find someone else to bother."

"And leave you alone?" Tobias clucked his tongue in disapproval. "That wouldn't be very-- where are you going?"

"To see Sophie." Ethan snapped. "Right now, I'll do anything to get you to shut up!"

Tobias watched him storm out of the diagnostic office. He then sent a quick text to Chris, letting her know she could come inside.

So far, their plan to help Ethan find someone was off to a great start.

***************

"Don't breathe." Sophie whispered to those watching.

She carefully placed the last delicate sugar flower at an angle that defied gravity upon the five tier cake and carefully climbed off her step stool.

"Well?" She beamed at her staff. "What do you think?"

"I think we need to take them off now and store them before one breaks." Her store manager, Terry, declared. "You've got three more cakes to work on this week and the last thing we need is--"

"Ms. Triano!" One of the employees called out. "You have a visitor at the front."

Terry's voice went a higher octave when she began to leave.

"Sophie!" He cried. "The flowers!"

"They'll be fine." She winked at him. "You worry too much."

She chuckled over his look of disbelief.

Sophie couldn't help but be optimistic that all was working like she and Veronica planned. Ever since they were little girls with their Easy Bake ovens, they knew they wanted to open their own bakery one day. With their family's support, the two cousins graduated from the French Culinary Institute and opened up a bakery in New York.

It wasn't long before their cakes were featured in bridal magazines across the globe. Veronica and Sophie entered competitions on Food Network to gain even more exposure. Soon, they had orders years in advance for their baked treats.

They knew they should expand, but what made their cakes so popular, was that they each made every part of it themselves. They had staff to help with the mixing and all, but they were the true cake artists. Everything they designed from sugar blew everyone's mind.

For the first time in ten years, the cousins worked apart. Veronica needed to stay in New York with Hugh's work being there and their children were happy in their current schools. Since Sophie was single with no children of her own, she was the one to volunteer to open another bakery.

She'd wanted to come back to Boston for a while now. Though she thoroughly enjoyed working in New York, there was nothing like being back in her hometown. She needed that sense of comfort as she made all the decisions on her own. She still called Veronica multiple times a day, but this venture rested mostly upon her shoulders.

Sophie straightened her chef's jacket as she crossed into the main bakery. Cases gleamed under Edison bulbs revealing a variety of desserts. Cookies, tarts, pies, scones, cakes, etc. were all on display to tempt everyone who walked through her door. She did a quick visual sweep to make sure everything was up to her high standards before looking for her visitor.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the doctor she'd met at Tobias and Chris's wedding. Of all the people she thought she would see again, Ethan Ramsey seemed the least likely.

It wasn't that he ignored her at the wedding. He even talked to her about her bakery. He simply seemed to be preoccupied with something else.

***************

Ethan watched as she made her way over to him. He'd thought she was pretty the night he met her, but seeing her in chef's mode brought a smile to his face. She was in her element and the confidence rolled off of her adding even more to her beauty.

"Hey." She smiled at him. "What are you doing here?"

"You said I could come anytime I wanted something sweet." He spread his arms. "Here I am."

"And just what do you crave, Ethan?" She teased. "Are you a sugary puff kind of man or do you want something bitter?"

"No sugary puffs" He walked over to look at her offerings. "Though I will admit that most of this makes me think a diabetic coma might be worth it."

She laughed. "Follow me, Dr. Ramsey."

His eyebrow raised as he followed her off to a smaller room. There was a table and a set of chairs along with a cooler filled with various drinks.

"Have a seat." Sophie insisted.

She sat down across from him, pulled out a small notebook from her pocket and clicked a pen open.

"Now then." She raised her eyes to his. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"For?" He countered.

"To learn all your secrets." She replied.

His eyes widened.

Sophie laughed, shaking her head. "Easy there. I was teasing you. I'm wanting to understand your palette."

Ethan actually flushed.

"Then, yes, go ahead."

"Just say the first word that comes to mind." Sophie told him. "Fruit?"

"Apple."

Sophie wrinkled her nose.

"What's wrong with apples?"

"Nothing. I'm not a big fan of them. I'm more of a berry girl."

Her gaze dropped down to his white doctor's coat. "Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised with you saying apple."

Ethan relaxed in his chair. "They are good for you."

"I'll stick with raspberries."

"I like those too." Ethan added.

"You do?" She set her pen down. "Do you like dark chocolate?

"I do." He replied.

Sophie got to her feet. "Wait here."

She went through a set of double doors and returned with a slice of chocolate cake covered in a dark chocolate ganache.

"Try this." She handed him a fork.

Ethan's eyes widened with the first bite. A medley of the tart raspberry compote with slightly sweet chocolate left him wanting more.

"Good?" She prodded.

"It's incredible." He took another bite. "Best cake I've had in a long time."

She beamed at him. "Talk like that will make you my favorite customer."

He chuckled. "I'm tempted to buy the rest of the cake."

"No need."

She went back through the double doors and before they could shut, she was back with a black box tied with a white bow in her hands.

"You boxed the cake up before I even tried it?"

Sophie nodded a touch proudly. "I knew you would love it."

"How much do I owe you?" He got to his feet, reaching for his wallet.

"It's on the house." She replied.

"Oh." Ethan took the box from her. "Thank you."

Terry stuck his head through the double doors.

"Sophie!" He hissed without looking at Ethan. "The flowers! Carlton bumped the table and gave me a mild heat attack. Get them back into storage!"

Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll be right there."

"You have flowers too?" Ethan asked.

"No. I make them." She waved goodbye. "Drop by anytime Dr. Ramsey."

Sophie paused at the door and winked at him. "I might even give you something else you'll love."

Ethan blinked in surprise once she disappeared. He wasn't quite certain how to take her parting words.

He frowned in thought during the drive back to the hospital.

"She meant more desserts." He told himself. "That's all she could have meant."

Once at Edenbrook, he sat in his car a few extra minutes. He eyed the black box and knew why he couldn't stop trying to see hidden meanings in her words and actions. He'd allowed Tobias to get in his head about there possibly being something more with Sophie.

He refused to give it another thought. He was too busy and too intelligent to ponder what women meant when talking to him. Of course, if Sophie did mean it in a flirtatious manner, then he would naturally respond in either a flirty fashion of his own or cold disinterest.

He picked up the box, a hint of a smile on his lips as he thought of her knowing he would love her cake.

If she was interested in him, he might be interested in her to.

*******************

A couple of days later...

"Any plans for your days off?" Chris asked.

Ethan kept pace with her as they walked towards their patient's room. "I'm going to the ballet Thursday night. They are performing The Sleeping Beauty."

"Oh?" Chris couldn't help but smile. "That sounds awfully romantic."

Ethan softly groaned. He knew what was coming next.

"Do you have anyone in particular you're taking with you?" Chris prodded, trying her best to look innocent.

"Chris." Ethan grumbled.

"Yes?" She was completely unfazed by the way he said her name.

"Tobias is rubbing off on you."

"I do more than rubbing." Tobias remarked from behind them.

Chris swatted him playfully with the file folder in her hand.

"What are we talking about?" Tobias asked, once he was walking along her other side.

"Ethan has a romantic night planned." Chris explained before Ethan could get a word out.

"Really?" Tobias looked over her head at him. "About time."

"I was just about to find out who Ethan invited to share this romantic night at the ballet."

"The ballet." Tobias slipped his arm around Chris when he noticed Ethan's face contort into irritated anger. "Can't set the mood much better than that."

"Enough!" Ethan snapped. "I'm not taking anyone to the ballet!"

"Why not?" Chris stopped him from walking on.

She placed her hands on her hips and backed him into the wall with her narrowed eyes and clipped tone.

"Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you are going to spend an evening of dinner and ballet without a date?!"

"I," Ethan hesitated. "Um..."

There was something about Chris's temper that made everyone take a step back. Even he got caught off guard from time to time.

But he wasn't in any mood for it today.

He glared down at her. He decided he wasn't going to be cowed by his former protege.

"I am planning an evening of enjoyment for myself."

Chris threw her hands up in exasperation, almost hitting both Ethan and Tobias in their faces.

"Men!" She grumbled. "Such a waste of bloody oxygen half the time."

Tobias groaned. "Welp, you set her off for the day. No man will be safe."

Ethan winced when Tobias smacked him on the back of the head.

"Don't tell her about your evenings for a party of one." He began to follow his wife. "She won't like it, then I'm the one left to deal with the fallout."

"She shouldn't be interested in what I do." Ethan grumbled.

Tobias shot a frustrated glance filled with pity towards him.

"What?" Ethan demanded.

"Chris cares about you." Tobias reminded him. "Once she calls you her friend, there is no escaping her concern. You know this about her."

Ethan stopped in his tracks. It was strange that it didn't hurt as much anymore thinking about Chris caring about him as nothing more than a friend. After their tumultuous year when she first arrived at Edenbrook, then having to go through seeing her fall in love with Tobias; Ethan was surprised they had survived it all to end up friends.

Maybe he was ready to move on and see what could happen next.

*******************

He decided he was ready to have a significant other as he ate dinner alone. Going to the ballet without someone there to talk to had lost the allure it once held. He still enjoyed his solitude, especially with the friends he had somehow become stuck with. This evening though would have been perfect for someone special.

As he walked into the Boston Opera House's lobby, he bumped into Sophie.

"Excuse me--Ethan!" She smiled at him. "Hello."

"Sophie," he glanced around to see if she was with a date, "it's good to see you again."

"You too." She too tried to see if he was with someone. "Are you a fan of the theatre arts?"

"I am." He cleared his throat. "Are you here alone?"

"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "I was given the Mcculler's box in thanks for doing a rush job on a cake for one of their parties. I've been looking forward to this night for weeks but couldn't find anyone who wanted to see The Sleeping Beauty with me."

Ethan's lips curved some. "I've rarely found anyone who enjoys coming here as much as I do."

"Where are your seats?" She asked.

"The Mezzanine, center." He replied.

"I don't suppose you'd like to join me instead?" She held up the two tickets she'd been given. "If you're alone, that is."

"I'd love to."

**********************

Ethan spent most of the ballet studying Sophie. There was something about her that seemed to give a sense of peace that he'd never experienced with anyone else. She was completely still, yet relaxed in her seat. Her eyes followed the movements on the stage while a slight smile graced her lips.

He then took in the rest of her. Sophie's dark chestnut hair cascaded down her shoulders. The white dress she wore was flattering to her figure. His eyes drifted down to her hands loosely clasped in her lap.

She was, he noted, the exact opposite of Chris. He wondered if Tobias had done this on purpose. Unlike the very tall, pale skin, green eyed, red headed Scottish doctor he'd first fallen for, Sophie was of a more average height, caramel colored skin, topped off with a pair of dark brown eyes and hair.

She was striking in her beauty. He realized he hadn't really appreciated that fact the last couple of times he'd seen her. He suspected that getting over his former love had clouded his mind from taking in the lady beside him.

****************

Sophie could practically feel Ethan's eyes on her. It took all her strength to remain relaxed in her seat. She couldn't recall the last time a man had studied her so intently. Men hit on her, but no one actually looked at her the way he was doing right now.

She didn't know if it was those piercing blue eyes of his or the type of man he was, but her nerves were notched so high that if he remotely made a move toward her, she'd probably tackle him where he sat.

She thought he was handsome the night she met him. She found him almost cute dressed as a doctor. But something about him in his suit, sitting beside her in the dark, made him almost irresistible.

Veronica told her she needed to get out and date more. Maybe she was right. Sophie had not been with anyone for nearly a year in preparing for the move back to Boston. Most of the men who came into her bakery were already in a relationship. It was rare anyone single came in, much less asked to speak to her.

Since she spent most of her time in the back decorating and supervising, she never had a chance to flirt with any of the few male customers who came in for treats to take to their offices.

Maybe that was why Ethan's attention affected her so strongly. She'd been longing for a relationship and hadn't even known it.

******************

The lobby of the Boston Opera House...

"I was thinking about going to get something to eat." Sophie looked up at him. "Any chance you'd care to have a late dinner with me?"

Ethan hesitated.

Sophie immediately regretted asking him.

"I actually ate earlier." He glanced at his watch. "How--"

"No problem." She nervously tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Thanks for sitting with me."

Sophie began to walk away, waving goodbye to him.

"Wait!" He caught up to her. "I was about to ask if you'd rather come to my place for dinner. It's late and most of the restaurants that your dress is meant for will be closing."

"Oh." She couldn't help but smile. "I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all. I enjoy cooking on my nights off." He offered his arm to her. "How did you get here?"

"Taxi." She placed her hand within the bend of his arm.

"Good. Then I can drive you home later."

*****************

When Ethan pulled up to his apartment building, Sophie's jaw dropped.

"You live here?"

"Yes, why?" He asked.

"Because I live here!" She pointed at the building. "Twelfth floor. Apartment B."

"I'm on the seventeenth." He told her.

Ethan couldn't believe he'd been living in the same building as Sophie all this time yet had never crossed paths with her.

Or had he and he simply hadn't noticed?

"You won't have to worry about driving me home now." She teased.

He smiled at her. "I can still walk you to your door."

Sophie laughed while getting out. "I'd like that."

Once in the elevator, she turned towards him. "Would you mind if I stopped at my place first and changed clothes?"

"No."

"These shoes have to go." She told him.

Sophie grasped his arm to balance as she slipped the painful high heels off.

Ethan watched her with a touch of amusement as she scooped up the pair with a soft curse.

"I won't be long." She told him while stepping out on her floor, casting a warm smile at him over her shoulder.

"Seventeen B." He reminded her.

"I'll be there." She promised.

*****************

Ethan quickly undressed the moment he shut his door. Tossing the finely made suit jacket and pants into his closet, he next tackled his shirt and tie. He settled on a light blue t-shirt to wear along with a pair of blue jeans. While pulling his pants on, he stumbled cursing into his kitchen to see what ingredients he had on hand for Sophie.

Her knock a couple of minutes later made him steady himself. He paused a moment realizing that he was actually excited about the prospect of getting to know her a little better.

He opened the door to find her casually leaning against the door frame. She'd put on a t-shirt like he had along with a pair of jeans. Sophie held up a bottle of wine with a hesitant smile.

"I wasn't certain what we were going to have, but I can say this is an excellent pinot grigio."

Ethan took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing with what to cook.

"Uh oh." She teased. "Is my choice of wine that bad?"

He looked up at her. "Not at all. I was thinking of what I could pair with it."

"Honestly Ethan," Sophie set her keys on his side table, "I'm up for anything. A simple ham sandwich would be great right now."

He snorted as he led her into his kitchen.

"I think I can do a little better than a ham sandwich."

"Really?" She settled comfortably on one of his bar stools. "Well now I am curious to see your cooking skills in action."

"I doubt they compare to yours." He remarked over his shoulder.

He began to gather the ingredients to make Tuscan chicken.

"Anything's better than mine."

Ethan' eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Sophie, you own a bakery and develop recipes for it on a daily basis."

She waved that off as if it was no big deal.

"The thing is," she confessed, "I can make desserts in my sleep, but savory dishes are where I mess up."

"Are you saying that you--"

"Can't cook." She admitted with a grin. "It baffles everyone I meet. Give me sugar and flour and I'm good, great even. Hand me that chicken and tomatoes and spinach and I'm going to destroy them as soon as I put them into a pan."

Ethan shook his head with a laugh. "I'm the opposite."

"You can't make desserts?"

"Not even pancakes." He explained about the meals he used to cook for him and his father. "Dad would just bring home ice cream or a box of cookies for us to have with our meals. He insisted I never pick up a bag of sugar "

Sophie laughed, feeling more at ease around him.

As the two talked, Ethan went through the prep work with ease. He uncorked the bottle of wine then led her into his living room. The pair sat down somewhat close, angling their bodies toward each other as they continued to talk about their lives.

He discovered that the thirty-three year old was highly intelligent, not just in the culinary world but in other aspects such as business and even history. Her ability to use humor here and there with her stories only added even more to her ability to hold his attention.

After spending so much time at Edenbrook, Ethan had forgotten that people outside of medicine could be a nice change of pace. He also found that she could easily grasp what he was talking about as he described what he did on the diagnostic team. Her questions were well thought out and actually made him pause a time or two to consider the answers.

When dinner was ready, they sat at his table, lights dimmed as they continued learning about the other.

It was, he decided, one of the best meals he'd had in a long time.

"Ethan, that was amazing." Sophie declared.

"Thank you." He got up to take their empty plates.

"I insist on doing the dishes." She took them out of his grasp. "And to make you dessert in thanks for cooking for me."

"There's no need." He followed her to his sink. "Like I told you, it was nice to cook for someone other than myself."

"If you ever need to do so again," she winked at him, "I won't be opposed to you calling me."

"Don't be surprised to hear from me often." He smiled at her, reaching over to finish up the dishes. "Go relax. I know you've been on your feet all day."

Sophie shook her head. "I feel reenergized. I haven't had a home cooked meal since I moved back to Boston. I sponged off Hugh and Veronica's meals once a week in New York along with having a set of restaurants around town to deliver my favorite comfort foods."

Sophie went into his pantry. Her eyes darted here and there as she went through the ingredients he had on hand. After another peek into his fridge, she set out everything to make a quick batch of sugar cookies.

"I see you found the raspberries I picked up earlier today." He teased.

Sophie blinked then remembered their conversation in her bakery.

"I hope I inspired such a wise decision." She quipped.

"You did." He picked up one of the cartons she'd set out. "Want me to clean these for you?"

She nodded while measuring her dry ingredients.

Ethan watched fascinated as she went through everything without having to check a recipe. She moved with a precision he'd only seen in the operating theater at Edenbrook.

"These won't be as pretty as my cookies at work." She explained while dropping spoonfuls on a cookie sheet. "But they'll still taste just as good.

"And what are the raspberries for?" He asked.

"Frosting of course." She smiled at him. "And I'm going to teach you how to make it."

"I believe I told you that sugar and I don't get along in the kitchen." He got up and came around the counter.

"And yet you have powdered sugar in your pantry." She teased.

"That was a mistake." Ethan explained. "The grocery store was out of granulated sugar and for some reason the delivery person assumed powdered could be substituted in its place."

Sophie laughed over the disgruntled expression on his face.

"I bet your coffee hasn't been the same since."

"It hasn't." He grumbled, smiling as he looked at her. "You can take that powdered sugar with you. After tonight, I never want to see it again."

"You'll want it after this lesson." She nudged him with her elbow. "Just imagine the look on your father's face when you present him with a cake or cookie with your homemade frosting."

"That's assuming I can make it or even the pretend cake and cookie you added to this scenario."

"Shh!" She playfully scolded. "You're ruining my future triumph."

"If I learn this," Ethan countered, "then you'll have to let me teach you something next time."

Sophie lowered her head, fighting a huge smile. "Next time, hmm?"

"You'll be learning how to make one of the dishes that you consider your comfort food." He told her.

"And when would this lesson happen?" She prodded, pretending to direct her attention to his food processor.

"I'm off tomorrow." Ethan stepped a little closer to her. "Or if next week at this same time would be better for you..."

"Either works for me." She added some more raspberries to the food processor. "I have tomorrow off too since I'll be working Saturday."

Ethan's voice held a touch of heat when he moved even closer to her.

"Then tomorrow it is."

Sophie could feel her heart race as she looked up at him. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment his lips brushed hers in a soft, tender kiss.

She sank into him the moment the kiss deepened. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers drifting into his hair as he molded her to his body.

The oven's buzzer broke them apart.

"That was a devious way to get out of your cooking lesson." She teased once she removed the cookies from the oven. "I'll have to remember to use it tomorrow night."

Ethan chuckled, moving behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist, placing slow unhurried kisses along her neck.

"We should work on the frosting." She bit back a moan when his hands began to wander.

"Doesn't the butter need to be room temperature?" He muttered against her ear.

"You're right." She turned in his arms, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that left him moaning.

She ran her hands down the hard planes of his chest, a slight smile curving her lips.

"We have anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to allow the butter time to reach room temperature."

"I think an hour would be best." He tugged her toward his couch. "Don't you?"

"I do." She gasped when he yanked her into his lap. "Maybe even longer."

********************

Two days later...

"What's this?" Tobias gestured to the plate of cookies.

"I did some cooking while off." Ethan told him.

Chris reached over to try one. She made a humming sound of delight.

"These are so good! I love raspberries."

Tobias reached for one. "I didn't know you baked, Ethan."

"I'm learning." He replied with a smirk.

Chris and Tobias shared a loaded glance.

"Is there someone giving you lessons?" Chris asked.

She couldn't help but be hopeful that a certain pastry chef was becoming a part of his life.

"There is." Ethan picked up the case files and smiled at the couple. "Expect a lot more treats like those these next few weeks."

[theretirementstory]

Greetings from a freezing cold Bar-sur-Aube, it’s -5c and we may reach the balmy heights of 1c later today. It has been very cold all week so I don’t feel as if I have done very much at all but I will let you judge.

To warm me up, let’s have a look at the songs I have chosen this week. The first song is “Higher Love” by Steve Winwood from 1982 and the second one “Ain’t Nobody” by Rufus and Chaka Khan from 1983. Hard to believe that these songs are over 40 years old 😳. I have given my heart and lungs a workout singing and dancing along to the tunes.

So one lot of checks have been returned OK for “The Ex-Graduates” new job, she is going next week for “the vetting” process and then it shouldn’t be too much longer before she starts the job. How exciting!

“The Trainee Solicitor” is working like a Trojan. His boss has been out of the office for quite a few days so far this year and has left the workload to him. That’s fine until you hit a problem but I am sure we all know this is “normal” worklife (unfortunately).

Working from home is to be the new norm for “The Photographer” unfortunately it’s not in the field of photography (at the moment). It seems that he has enjoyed just moving from one room to another to start his work, likes that a break means he can go into the kitchen in his home to get a drink and an hours lunch starts prompt at the allotted time (something which doesn’t happen when you are dealing with customers face to face). It’s early days but having a couple of hours travelling time given back to you is something and he can use that time for shopping, appointments or going to the gym.

My granddaughter FaceTimed me this morning without her Daddy being in the room so it was a surprise for him when he heard her talking to me. Her little brother is on penicillium medicine as he has an ear infection. He was in the kitchen with Grandad but came through to have a chat with me. They were at the cinema yesterday to see the Disney film “Wish” and are going out today to see butterflies and aquatic creatures. My granddaughter ended the call saying “bye I will ring you tomorrow “ 😂😂.

Now my week, the cleaner has been, returning to her two days a week. I don’t think the house really warrants 4 hours cleaning per week but she does move furniture to clean underneath, wash windows as well as dust, vacuum and wash floors so I can’t complain. Then I had my appointment with the oncologist. He had my blood test results and I was sad that things were not as good as they could have been with a couple of areas of concern. I came away with a prescription for five days of injections to boost my white cells and was told to have fortnightly blood tests now too. Well nothing I can do about it just got to wait for the next round of blood test results.

I was fortunate on Tuesday that I went into town to the pharmacy in the morning as in the afternoon it SNOWED! I have arranged with the nurse to come in for the next five days to give me my injections also arranged for them to come to do blood test on 22/1.

My cousin, in London, had her birthday this week. I had posted her card last week, however I went online and arranged a small hamper of 4 saffron buns, 1 pack of Cornish Faring biscuits, 1 pack of Cornish clotted cream shortbread and a box of Cornish Black tea although it didn’t arrive on her birthday it arrived the following day.

I also took the opportunity to order more books for myself, although I am back to knitting and crochet I like to read before I go to sleep.

It was the week for the knitting group and as the weather had turned so cold I couldn’t decide whether to go or not. Anyway after exchanging a few messages with Claudine I decided to go. I have been crocheting something which does resemble a scarf and as I have plenty of this wool I can make it quite long. I had also found a book of knitting patterns for children’s clothes, however the instructions are in French. I have decided that I am going to knit a cardigan from the book and I cast it on. I am enjoying knitting something different, a different pattern but one that is easy to do. Let’s hope it continues as easy as this is at the moment.

I knew that I had to get over my fear of rats and mice which may be lurking in the compost. So far I had been brave enough to go and put my vegetable peelings in there but as far as turning the compost went, it hadn’t been done for months with the result that the peelings were just sitting on top of the other matter. I plucked up courage to go out into the freezing cold (dressed like Nanook Of The North) armed with my twisty thing and a garden fork. I was working quite well then decided to use the garden fork, now this meant removing part of the front of the composter and I was sure I would see something staring at me, but no, not a thing and I was rather pleased with the result. I feel ready to maybe do this job once a week to oxygenate the pile and get it “working”. I have previously been told that you will know if rats are in the bin as you will smell ammonia (apparently rats urinate a lot) whether this is true or false whenever I open the composter I take a good sniff.

I have had messages from Monique, Pauline (in Barcelona), have messaged Anie (who should have returned from Indonesia this week) and Maud (no reply from these two) plus have been in contact with Sarah, Denise (a lady from the old knitting group) and friends in the UK.

I do so love January here in France. If you employ people to work in your home (gardener, cleaning lady in my case) you can claim money back on your tax. The tax office usually give you an advance in January and my notification came through this week. Also, I pay my energy by direct debit and I did increase my payments (as instructed) in September. Now I only pay 11 months of the year, get my invoice showing all the details of usage, payments etc in January and any overpayment is refunded directly. Imagine my surprise when I was informed I had overpaid so would be refunded. I have my heating on extra hours a day and still get a refund 😁.

Today is the Fete sans Frontiere in town and normally I would be going. However, as I still want to keep safe due to low immunity, it seems silly to go into a hall with well over 100 people and remove my mask to eat. Also they ask that you take a dish with you for sharing. These are then laid out and people are called up to go and collect food. Now 1) you don’t how hygienic the preparation of the food may be, 2) fingers could have touched the food that is laid out, had hands been washed say after using the toilet, 3) coughs and sneezes spread diseases and no matter what, someone could cough or sneeze while in the queue, not everyone carries sanitiser! No I don’t want to be among that, not when I (feel) I have managed to steer clear of any infection so far. So I guess I will stay at home, in the warm, and do some knitting or crochet.

I feels like coffee time now, I am also trying to get into the habit of having a piece of fruit mid-morning and mid-afternoon. It cuts down on munching on biscuits and enables me to have my five-a-day. I baked a quiche yesterday so I will be having quiche with something healthy this lunchtime.

So I will wish you all a very good week until next week.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

I love your writing so much! 😭 And I hope you had a great holiday season!

If you're not to busy, I was wondering if you would be able to write about teacher!reader being in a secret relationship with Larissa Weems. One day their students are paying a little too close attention during class, but when asked about why, nobody wants to tell them about the giant red lipstick mark on their neck.

(I hope that makes sense! The prompt has been haunting my brain for days now! 😂)

This is a really cute idea so I'm glad it was haunting your brain. I hope this lives up to it.

“And that is why if you turn to page 86 you’ll see how the claws transform from fingernails.”

You let your eyes rove over the class, keeping track of how much attention your students were paying to the lesson. Their eyes were surprisingly sharp, following you.

“So can anyone explain to me in their own words how that’s done?” you asked, waiting for Bianca to raise her hand. She never missed a chance for showing off to the other students that she was top of the class. Not that you could blame her. You saw how hard she worked for it.

Instead, she lent over to one of her friends, whispering something. The other girl giggled, ducking her head to keep from looking at you. Bianca sat back, looking satisfied at the response she’d gotten.

You might have left it there if they were the only ones. Unfortunately, Enid was watching you with a bright smile on her face, which wasn’t in itself unusual, but she was almost vibrating with excitement every time she looked at you which was. Werewolf anatomy was hardly her favourite subject.

Eugene was staring at you wide eyed, a flush evident on his cheeks. Ajax was nodding his head, staring at you with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes flitted from student to student, their interest making you nervous. You weren’t used to this level attention on you. The class before lunches always a little difficult.

“Alright, what’s going on?” you asked, leaning back against your desk.

“Nothing,” Enid trilled, grinning at you.

“Seriously, there’s something happening here.” You looked from person to person, “am I about to be the unfortunate victim of a class prank?”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eugene said but he wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Thankfully, you’re all rather terrible liars,” you said, “so are you going to tell me?”

“Have you had a good morning?”

“Well, yes, thank you, Bianca,” you replied, not sure you were following the course of her question.

“Seems it,” she said, not quite to you but loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Some of the students giggled and you had to do your best not to start questioning them again. You knew a lost cause when you saw one, and clearly they would not be enlightening you. You sighed, turning back to the chalkboard to continue your lesson, only to have the lunch bell ring.

“Class dismissed,” you said, feeling rather bemused by the events of day so far.

The rush of footsteps leaving the classroom wasn’t nearly so deafening as usual, a few students lingering. You offered them a helpful smile, shooing them towards the door. Just outside in the hall, granting her genial smile on them, was Larissa, towering over the crowd. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the sight of her. Just that morning you’d had quite nice interlude in her office, lips and hands wandering as you did your best to keep quiet, lest someone hear you.

“Principal Weems,” you greeted.

Her eyes snagged on you as the last of the students disappeared around the corner. That smile softened, until her eyes swept over you. You saw the moment something changed. Already pale, she turned white as a sheet, eyes widening and mouth falling open. With a strong hand on your shoulder, she pushed you back into your classroom, door slamming closed behind her.

“Sweetheart?” Your eyes tried to search hers but she was looking at something. Something on you that you couldn’t see. Something that had worry churning in your stomach.

Her fingers gently traced something on the skin of your neck and you couldn’t help the shiver that went through you. You were helpless when it came to her. She let out a long shuddering breath, colour beginning to return to her face.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling frozen as her fingertips continued to brush over your skin.

“It appears we overlooked something when you left earlier,” she said.”

“Oh?” You did your best to lift an eyebrow but you’d never been able to. She chuckled.

“It seems I need to be more careful where I place my kisses when I’ve just applied my lipstick,” she said, “you have a lipstick mark right here in plain view.”

“Oh.” You thought about it, “oh, that’s what was going on with the students.”

“They noticed,” she said, not asking.

“They might have.”

There was a beat of silence. She looked at you, and you looked back.

The laughter burst out of the two of you, filling the room with noise. You lent forward until your forehead was resting against her body, her hands on your shoulders. You felt tears in your eyes and you were gasping for breath. It took a long time for the laughter to subside.

“Cat might be out of the bag,” you said, breathless.

“It’s going to be all over the school by the end of lunch,” she replied.

“It was nice while it lasted,” you said, “time to face the music?”

She slid her hand into yours, tugging you towards the door.

“At least now Coach Vlad will stop flirting with you,” she said.

“There’s that silver lining.”

You both laughed again, and life had never felt easier.

[fertilize-my-eggs]

Curious little birdie. Sub! hawks x dom fem! Reader smut

Warings: pegging! Curious hawks, rough sex, hawks is very sensitive, very consent, open reader, light bsdm. * basically both you and keigo are started off as fwb *

Author: since y'all really love my bottom hawks fanfic, I'm gonna do two parts of this since this one gonna be long, I can see hawks being a switch but more of bottom coz look at him😭😂😭 doesn't he's scream bottom to you lmaoo anyway hope y'all enjoy this one. ( part two is gonna be very rough sex. )

" you want me to do what now?? " you rise your brow at him, he's put a light shhh sound." Not around here!! Let's go in my office y/n. " you give a soft sign, you don't know what's he's was talking about since he's was mumbling you didn't quite hear him well. You and him walking into his office, you were his assistant for a good five months, just doing work until he's walk in interrupt you and now you're walking in first while keigo was walking nervously behind as you sit down and he's lean on his desk, he's give a heavy sign." Look, I said I want you to peg me.. I-I.. Never done it before, ya know how people think when men don't... Talk about these type of stuff. " this whole time he's wasn't looking at you, he's was looking everywhere but you." You don't have to if you're uncomfortable by it y/n.. I-.." You clear your throat." No no, I want to try it, it's sound very hot to be honest. " his face turn red while his wings twitching excited." Wait... Really?? I-." " we're can discuss it at my place, we're can start off with the basics. " you said as you get up to walk to back to your desk." Wait!! " he's gently grab your hand, you rise your brow at him curiously." So you're not gross out by it?? " his eyes were wide with curious but worry look." Mhmm no not really, I don't mind whatever, I won't judge you or anyone.. Everyone has a weird guilty pleasure who knows! " you give him a warm smile as he's sign in relieved." So.. Uhh when do I come at your Apartment? " he's look at you, you sign softly went to his desk to grab a pen and paper. You quickly write down the day and time, you give it to him. He's read it and give light mhm sound." Alright sound great, I'll be here! " you smile at him as you finally head out.

*Few day later*

You had grab some items, it's was very cute simple lingerie, a strap on, some lube and toys, you went with the simple and basic items because you really don't know what's keigo is into, you went simple and easy for him. You had comfy outfit, very baggy dress shirt with some simple bra and panties on, you had very messy space buns, had no make-up. You hear a light bing sound as you smile softly that's must be him. You walk to your phone to read it.

(Keigo: alright, I'm at the door! Let's me in😏😘)

You give a soft giggle, you grab the items in a bag, you put it on the dresser, you begin walk to your door, you open it and there he was standing here awkwardly but holding a small set of roses. Aww cute. You grab the flowers and put it in vase while he's walk in." Do you want any drink before we're start? " you look at him." Mhm water would be nice, thanks you! " he's give a warm smile, you nod your head, getting two nice cold water bottles. You and him walking into your room, you both drink the water, he's sit on your bed while you're looking at him, He's wasn't making eye contact at all but judging the tent in his pants, he's pretty excited about this.

" alright, we're gonna started with the rules. "

" rules? " he's look up at you with his brow rise, you made a mhmm sound." Soo there we're starting off with a very light and simple, you gotta have a safeword, it's can be very random word, if you feel uncomfortable or say stop I'll stop and we're won't continue on. " he's nodes his head while listen." In the bedroom you can called me, master, mistress, mami or mommy switch ever you're comfortable with. " " what's about bird names? " his eyes look like puppy dog eyes." That's also fine, I'm okay with that, are you okay with pet names? " he's nod his head fast, he's couldn't help a big smile on his face." Alright what's your safeword? " he's give a mhmm sound and said." Phoenix! " you nods your head. " great choice, I want you to get naked, prepare yourself by fingering yourself. " you walk to the dresser grab a blindfold and lube with a very simple small dildo and give it to him." After you prepare yourself, I want you to sit on the bed wait for me while you being blindfold while I get ready understood? " his eyes went wide but nod his head." Understood mama bird! " you give a light chuckle as you head to the bathroom while grabbing the items.

Part two😏

[the-iceni-bitch]

First of all, congratulations to 3k once again 💜🥳

Second of all, I may have teared up a little when I saw you tagged me 🥺🥺🥺💗 ily

And finally, my spin results:

Kink: bondage and edging

Character: Ransom Drysdale

Prompts: "I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow so fuck me harder." and "If you interrupt me one more time."

I feel like this would be perfect for our two favorite assholes 👀😂 But do with this what you want, it's gonna be awesome either way 🥳

This is so good for the OTP babe!!! Thought about putting this on in the sex dungeon but decided to make it a little softer.

Smut (cockwarming, use of sex toys, anal play, reader ismore of a soft dom in this one (but that’s actually worse for Ransom), little bit of fluff) no minors!!!

“Baby, please. I can’t take any more.” Ransom let out a tortured sigh when you turned the intensity on the vibrator down again, his orgasm receding as you nibbled on his collarbone. 

“Aww, poor puppy.” You slowly kissed your way up his neck until you could suck a bruise against his jaw. “You know what to say if you really want it.”

Tears started leaking down his cheeks when you clenched around him, but he still had that set to his jaw that made you think he was gonna keep being a brat. Even with the vibrator buzzing against his prostate and your his cock buried in your pussy, he still wouldn’t cave and give you what you wanted. 

Unfortunately for him, you were absolutely fine torturing him for hours on end. Not like when he edged you and brought you to the precipice of your pleasure as fast as he could over and over so you would give in to him as soon as possible. 

But you could actually control yourself. It had been almost three hours since you’d tied him to your massive bed, the silk ropes around his wrists and ankles stretching him wide across the mattress, just enough slack in them so he could relax against the pillows. All the comfort in the world couldn’t help his escape from the torment you were inflicting on him, though.

The toy started buzzing faster inside him at the same time you started rolling your hips and he let out a pitiful whimper, sweat covering his entire body in a thin sheen as you started slowly drawing him towards his peak again. You felt him squirm underneath you and grinned against his throat before licking your way up to slot your mouth over his, your movements growing more deliberate as you did your best to get him worked up.

There was a buzzing from the nightstand and Ransom groaned when you sat up to grab your phone, your cunt flexing around him as you stretched to reach it while still keeping him fully sheathed in you.

“Oh my god, it’s Anne!” Your face spread in a wide grin as you texted back, starting to bounce yourself on Ransom’s cock without actually acknowledging him.

“Who?” Maybe if he kept you distracted with conversation, you’d finally let him come. He couldn’t remember you ever mentioning an “Anne”.

“My best friend? We’ve know each other since college.” You frowned at him before turning back to your screen. “I know I’ve talked about her before, Hugh.”

“Well, you talk about a lot of stuff, baby.” He was trying not to writhe underneath you, he was almost there, he needed to keep distracting you. “Why haven’t I met her if she’s your best friend?”

“She was helping with the opening of her company’s new offices in Amsterdam for the past year.” You slowed your movements down as you continued talking, trying not to look too happy when you heard him whine. “Apparently, data management and storage is a lot more involved than you would think.”

“Ah, shit, I don’t fucking care!” He was done, wrenching against his restraints wretchedly as he sought any form of friction. “Just make me come, you bitch.”

A desperate sob ripped from his chest when you went completely still, his body sagging against the bed in defeat when you shut off the vibrator, too. You just gave him an impassive stare as you watched him cry, crossing your arms over your chest while you waited for him to wear himself out.

“Now, that was pretty fucking stupid.” You reached up and dragged a finger through the tears that were staining his cheeks, bringing it up to your mouth and sucking the salty liquid between your lips as you glared at him. “I hope you feel better after that little outburst, because now you’re gonna have to stay quiet and still while I call my best friend.”

He just stared at the ceiling while you dialed the phone, panting with exhaustion as he tried to regain some control over himself. This was the longest you’d ever drawn him out, and he was cursing himself for being such a stubborn asshole.

“Anne? How the fuck are you, you bitch?” You ignored his sad little huffs as you chatted with your friend, winking at him and stroking his chest when he finally brought his eyes back to yours. “Why are you texting me so early? Isn’t it, like, 6 AM there?”

Forty-five minutes, that’s how long he had to listen to you chatting with that bitch he’d never even met like he wasn’t in the room. He’d only tried to get your attention once, moaning your name and trying to roll his hips underneath you until you gripped his jaw and muted your phone as you scowled at him.

“If you interrupt me one more time, I’ll leave you tied up here, frustrated, for the rest of the night after making myself come all over your chest. Close enough for you to smell and think about how fucking good my pussy tastes until whenever I decide to let you go in the morning. Now be good.”

He didn’t move a muscle for the rest of your conversation, knowing that you never made empty threats. It was surreal laying there, listening to you tell your friend about your relationship while your pussy was wrapped around his cock like it was the most mundane thing in the world. He wondered if this friend of yours knew how big of a freak you were.

“Alright, babe, let me know when your flight gets in and I’ll pick you up. Love you!” You looked positively giddy when you tossed your phone on the nightstand, curling over and pressing your lips to his until he started struggling against his bonds again. “Puppy, you did so good. And now I’m in such a good fucking mood with Anne moving back to the States. I’m gonna ride this big dick until you fill me up.”

“Ah, fuck.” His eyes rolled back in his head when you turned the vibrator on again, losing himself in the mixture of sensations as you sat up over him again and started to drive your hips against his. “Baby, shit, you feel so fucking good.”

“I know, puppy.” You reached behind you and placed your hands on his knees, leaning back and arching your spine as you continued grinding against him. “Ngh, love this big cock so much, hits me so fucking deep. You know how hard it is for me to just sit there with you inside me and not fuck the brains out of you? Why you gotta be such a damn brat?”

“Can’t help it, you’re too fucking cute when I piss you off.” He grinned when you rewarded him with a dark chuckle, the rhythm of your hips and the speed of the vibrator holding him right at the edge. “Baby, c’mon. I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow, so fuck me harder.”

“Aww, you want me to break you, puppy?” You turned up the intensity before pulling off him almost completely, then dropping back down to meet his hips and moaning when he screamed for you. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Fuck, he wished you’d untied him, he just wanted to hold your tits in his palms when he watched them bounce like that. A frantic chant of “yes” and “fuck” and “ungh” started falling from his lips as you basically drove him right to his peak then shoved him over the edge. The choked cry he let out when he started shooting his thick load into you had you coming right behind him, his body jerking wildly underneath you as he did his best to break out of his restraints. You let him ride it out as you creamed all over him, moaning low in your chest until his movements finally stilled.

“Jesus fuck, puppy.” You ran your fingers through his chest hair as you beamed down at him. “Now, say it so I can untie you and we can take a bath.”

“What?!” He looked at you incredulously as you cocked an eyebrow at him, huffing out a frustrated breath. “I thought we were finished.”

“Not until you say it, Hugh.” You shook your head at him. “I have no problem spending a night in the guest room if you insist on being a brat.”

“Fine.” God, he was fucking adorable when he pouted. “I’m sorry I watched Mindhunter without you. You were just at work so long, and it’s so good!”

“No excuses.” You bent to give him a peck on the lips and work at undoing his bindings. “I accept your apology, but it better not happen again, Hugh.”

[lyon-amore]

Stand by me 1

How many meetings between Jake and the MC am I going to write until the next game comes out? 😂

Well, this time I put the name of my MC, to take away the embarrassment of writing it, I just hope you like reading it

Enjoy it!!

⚠️ ATTENTION: Mention of blood and wounds. If you're new to the fandom and haven't finished the game yet, don't read it to avoid endgame spoilers.⚠️​

The time I had spent in Duskwood was over.

I was tired after so many interrogations, both from the police and the FBI. 

One by one, they had been asking us, they hadn't even let us be together so we could make up a story together.

But none of us told the truth. At least, that's what I thought.

In two days I had to go back to work, so the only day I had been able to be with a Duskwood friend was with Jessy, who she most needed to be with someone right now. After that, it was all questions and more questions. My head ached. 

I start to pack, when I receive a message. Rather, a location.

And nothing less than the Nymos chat.

My heart races, not believing it to be true.

I hadn't heard from Jake since that last text, telling me 'I love you'. I didn't hear from him after that. I didn't want to talk to anyone.

I expected some message from him, a word, an enigma, something. I also couldn't focus on work for every notification I received.

I always ended up going to the bathroom to cry again. My co-workers kept asking me what was wrong with me. Until I finally traveled to Duskwood to clarify what happened. Just to make it worse.

I keep looking at the message. The cartel was one of the exits from Duskwood, was Jake there waiting for me?

He had promised me that they would no longer separate him from me. Was it possible? Had he survived the mine?

I finish packing. I was going to be prepared just in case it was a false alarm, that maybe this stupid program had stopped working because it had crashed anyway.

Yes, I was quite angry, I hadn't slept for a long time. No sleep. Just cry. It was all I did since I hadn't heard from Jake.I had to check it out.

   I look on the map on my phone at the nearby exit where it indicated me.As I was leaving in the car, I was surprised that there was suddenly more surveillance and even some officers stopped me.

   "Can I see her car, Miss Connors?"

    "Yes of course."

     I get out of the car opening the back door and then the trunk.

They observe everything meticulously, without leaving any corner without looking. It bothers me that they even opened my suitcase. Did they really think I had Jake in there?

    "Is it necessary?" I ask, closing it hurriedly.

    "We have been informed that the hacker had been seen nearby," the agent replies.

    "Really?" I show my impassive face. Giving no sign of surprise. Or maybe I didn't even believe it myself. I had received nothing from him.

    "Yes, that's why we have more surveillance posts around Duskwood."

    "But they won't register me again at the Duskwood exit, right?"

    "No, don't worry, the perimeter of where they've been seen doesn't go that far," he answers, gesturing with his cap, "besides, they think they've shot him, if it was just an animal what they saw. so he won't get very far."

    "Thank goodness." I tried to stay calm. I hope it's not him. "Good luck catching him.” I put on my best smile, despite not wanting to. Better get along with them.

    "Have a good day miss and sorry for everything that happened." he smiles at me, charmingly "It must have been horrible to be manipulated."

    "Yes… Thank you. You too."

     I got back in the car and I looked in the rearview mirror at the agents joking with the guy, saying a couple of things like "what a hunk you are" or "flirting during work hours?". Luckily I was leaving there.

I drove and as promised, there was no one near the Duskwood exit sign.

I park off the road and looked everywhere.

Forest on one side, forest on the other. But no trace of Jake.

 I lean against the car, looking at Nymos's message. Then the Duskwood sign.

I place the phone at a perfect distance to see what the same place was. I strain my eyes to get a good look at every little detail. It was the same place.

    "Great, there's no one here." I put the cell phone in my jacket pocket, trying not to get more upset. "I knew it was a waste of time… Or he would have already contacted me…” My voice sounds broken, about to cry. No again…

I hear a bang on the car and the movement of how it had been hit and I turn around scared.

There, leaning with his head bowed, was a person. Despite the dirt on his clothes, it could be seen that it was black, wearing a hood.

    "Hey... Are you okay?" I ask, concerned.

    "Uh…" a man's voice. And it seems that he can hardly speak.One of his hands is resting on the car and the other on his body.

He looks up and meets my eyes.

    "I guess... I must be already dead, right?" he asks, under his mask. I can't believe it, I can't even move "An angel came looking for me..."

    "You..."

The man tries to straighten up, but falls to the ground.

    "Jake!" I yell as I approach him. I knew it instantly.

     I bent down putting his head in my lap and I noticed the blood on his sweatshirt. He had a hole. Yes, they had shot him.

    "No, no, no…" I get nervous when I see him and decide to pat his face to wake him up "Jake, come on, don't do this to me now. Stay with me, come on."

    He open his eyes a little. Tired. I'd even say his skin is paler for someone he's been hiding for a long time. It was because of the shot.

    "Cal-Calm..." He lowers his mask as best he can. It's hard for him to speak, but I need him to speak, for his sake "I already… I already told you that they weren't going to separate me from you…"

   "Come on, we have to go to a hospital," I sit him up slowly, trying to open the back door to lay him down in the car.

    "No... they'll ask a lot of questions and that's not good." he tells me, putting a hand to the wound.

    "You don't think I'll heal you, do you?" I ask, accommodating him.

    "If possible..."

    "For God's sake…"

     I slam the door, bringing a hand to my head, massaging my forehead.

I grab his suitcase and backpack and put it in the trunk. Had he carried all of this wounded up here? Why didn't he call me earlier?

I walk to my seat as fast as I can. I look in the rearview mirror at Jake, looking pained and about to fall asleep.

    “Jake, hey,” he looks up at me in the mirror “I need you to stay awake.

    "Yes... Done... I'm good at that."

    Well, at least he's in the mood to joke around, but not me.

Dammit.

    "The FBI has asked us all about you," I try to maintain a conversation, keeping him informed, "luckily, that you have deleted all the messages after disappearing has been useful."

    “I couldn't trust them to look at your cell phones."

    "I know."

    “I suppose that… You must have felt bad that I deleted my last message."

    “No, don't worry."

    “I'm sorry…" he moans under his breath until he speaks again "I tried to save Richy, but-"

    "That doesn't matter now," I replied, swallowing hard.

    "But he was your friend-"

    "Jake…" I pause, wondering if it was a good thing to tell him now. But I didn't know what to talk to him about at that moment, there was a lot of information to give "It was Richy, he kidnapped Hannah."

I thought I heard some insult, a little anger, but no. He laughs. As if he amused him.

    "Seriously? Do you find it funny?"

    "Why do you think I warned you from the start not to trust anyone?"

    "You had already suspected something, right?"

    "I didn't watch the three days after she disappeared for nothing," he complains again and I squeeze my hands. Shit, he's in pain. "But when you told me about he being attacked, I completely ruled it out."

    "Well then... Unfortunately, I don't."

    "What?"

    "I'll tell you."

    "Macie… did you know that?"

    I avoid saying yes, because I don't want to argue now.

    "I was never wrong about you," he lets out another laugh. If it wasn't for him being badly injured, I would have found it sexy in being deep. Instead, I was concerned about him. It sounded like the laugh of someone who knew they were going to die. "You really are fascinating."

    "Do you think it's time to flirt?" I ask seriously.

    "I wanted to see you," he answers, smiling "at least for the first and last time..."

    "Jake, take that back or I swear it's not the shot that's going to kill you." I try not to turn to answer him, but I stare into the rearview mirror. "You don't know how glad I am that you're alive."

    "Even in such a deplorable state?"

    "Were you going to get dressed for me?"

    “Maybe."

     A laugh escapes me. God… What a lovable fool he is.

    "Okay, and how would you have managed?" I ask, keeping him awake. "In the hypothetical case that we would have gone out to dinner, for example."

    "Oh, well…" He sits up a little, and I watch as he runs his tongue thoughtfully over his lips. I bite my lip thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, but taking advantage of a badly wounded man was wrong and I have my principles. "Remember I would take you to a Chinese restaurant?"

    "Yes, how can I not forget it?"

    "It wouldn't be just any" I see how his eyes begin to shine, as if he was recovering a little "I would have looked for the most elegant restaurant that they could have had."

He laughs and I join him.

  "I… I would surely have rented a tuxedo," I see how he tightens the wound, as if he wanted to make a tourniquet with the clothes "because unfortunately, one made to measure is very expensive."

    "And you'd be the most handsome man in a rented tuxedo." I tried to stay calm, following the conversation.

    "Do you like the beard better or do you prefer me without it?"

    "Hmm...Fixed?"

    "Sorry, I didn't have time to shave with the FBI behind me," he sighs sadly.

    "Don't worry, I find the situation quite normal," I say sarcastically. All this is too new for me.

    "And you… You would be the most beautiful woman in the restaurant." I blush when I hear it, he really means it, not joking. His tone is sincere. "You would wear a beautiful dress… Favorite color? "

    "What color would you choose?"

    "Black."

    "Classic, you never go wrong with that color."

    "I'm sorry, I was just thinking that we could go combined in the clothing."

    "I like that."

    "Everyone would turn to see you." I look quickly in the rearview mirror, seeing how his gaze seems lost in those thoughts. "And I would be the most envied man of all. Because there would be no one to match your beauty."

    “Is it blood loss that makes you talk like that?" I ask, my face burning.

    "No, only my love for you."

    "Yes, the blood loss."

     He lets out a laugh, then groans.

I love being able to be with him and talk face to face like I always wanted, but circumstances mean that I don't feel better than I thought.

Surely he must be happier to see me given his state, perhaps he must think that it will be the last time he will see me and he wants to take advantage of telling me everything that he has never been able to tell me in messages, because it was something else intimate.

Well, I'm not going to let him die in my car. Neither anywhere. I will do everything possible so that this does not happen.

    "Hold on a little longer, Jake…" he muttered under his breath, revving up the car.

I don't even care about the fine I get home, I don't care at all. Jake's life comes first.

We arrived at the urbanization, at the end of the street.

I park the car and with effort, helped Jake to sit up. He make an effort to hold on to me.

    "I have you, I'm not going to let you go," I say, walking slowly.

    "I hope so..."

    "Have I given you reason to doubt me?" I ask, smiling.

    "Never."

     I'm lucky there aren't any neighbors down the street at that time, they all work.

I open the front door, leaving the keys in the cabinet next to me, closing the door with my foot.

    "We're here, I'm going to take you to the room."

    “Macie, I appreciate your effort, but this is not the time for that."

    "Jake, I appreciate your effort to make jokes so you think I can be calm, but you're not helping me calm down." I frown, avoiding looking at him. I must be red because of that joke. And I have to concentrate if I want to be able to help him.

    "Sorry, I just don't want you to be nervous about the situation..."

    "How can I not be?"

    "It'll be fine." I look at him and see that he smiles with effort.

     Damn stupid and beautiful smile. I think I already know what my weakness will be with this man every time I try to get angry with him: his way of smiling at me to calm me down.

I open the bed with one hand and sit him down slowly, helping him remove his sweatshirt along with his shirt.

Seeing the wound, I put a hand to my mouth avoiding vomiting when I saw the blood.

    "Oh my God..."

    "Hey, look at me," I listen, ignoring the gunshot wound. He suppresses the pain with a calm face, almost forcing a smile. "You're going to do well, angel."

    "And that nickname?"

    "Because you are my savior."

    "Too much faith in me."

    "And that's never going to change."

I sighed and laid him down slowly.

    "I'll go-" I try to calm down as much as I can, avoiding seeing much of the wound at the moment "I'll go get what I need."

    "Don't worry, I'm not moving from here."

    "God... Just don't die now."

I leave the room, first going to the bathroom for the first aid kit. I also need something to get the bullet out, it can't stay inside.

    "It's going to be the worst thing I've ever done in my life," I talk to myself as I look for some tweezers "but I'm doing it because I'm in love with him... I hope I don't lose him because I'm the one who kills him trying to save him."

I return to the room with everything I need and leave it on the table, then I go to the bathroom again and wash my hands, wishing myself good luck with what I was going to do.

Returning, I stand next to the bed, taking the chair from the desk.

    "It doesn't look very good." I commented, not sure how to begin.

    "It's a good thing you're a journalist, because as a nurse, you wouldn't be good at cheering up patients." I gave him a dirty look at his joke and he smiled. You have to clean first so you can get a good look at the wound."

    "Have you ever done it?" I asked, grabbing a couple of gauze pads to clean the area.

    "You want to know the answer?"

   "Is that a 'Several times, Macie, I'm used to getting shot'?" I try to mimic his voice, looking for a way to not think I have a wound in front of me.

Horrible. Horrible vision.

    "Most of them have grazed me."

    "It doesn't relax me at all."

    "Okay, you have to take the bullet out now."

     I swallowed hard, her hand where I hold the tweezer shaking.

I can't… I can't do it. It's hard. I'm going to fuck it off and I'm going to kill him.

Jake grabs my hand and I look at him. His calm eyes calm me little by little.

    “Take a deep breath, Macie, you're doing great."

    "You're going to have to reward me, too much." My hand stops shaking and slowly releases me.

    “I'm accumulating everything I want to reward you."

    "Do you have a list?"

    "But I'm not going to tell you what other things I have written down apart from dinner and a day with you."

    "Well, the day you are already giving it to me…."

    "I'd rather it wasn't this one."

I can't be mad at this man. In the end he knows how to calm me down whenever I get mad at him.

I take a deep breath, bringing the tweezers closer to the wound.

I'm going to pass out.

Jake starts to complain and I stop. But he makes me a sign for him to continue.

I get to touch something with the tweezers and I give a cry full of happiness. I try to calm down despite the joy.

    "I found it Jake," I announced. "What do I do? Did I just take it out?"

    "Well… make sure it doesn't bleed me dry."

    "What?!"

    "Press the wound so it doesn't go through."

    "It's incredible that you trust me..."

     I reached for another gauze pad, pressing down on the wound as I slowly pulled the bullet out.

I try to endure how I can’t pass out, it is difficult for me to see it.

As soon as the bullet is out, I press on the wound, breathing heavily.

    "Okay, okay, okay," I nod, turning my gaze to him. "I guess now it's time to put the bandage on."

     I can't stop shaking. My whole body doesn't react well to what I want to do.

    "Sh... Sew..." He says with difficulty.

    "Jake... If you don't die, I'm going to kill you for doing this to me. WE SHOULD HAVE GONE TO A HOSPITAL! I can't do it."

    "Macie... The police would be notified if I went."

    "True… You're right… I was just thinking about your health and that you trust me in this, it makes me nervous" he laughs and I give him an angry look. How many have I had already? I think I can also add to the lack of sleep that I’m in a bad mood.

    "Excuse me, I don't like that we met under these circumstances either," he answers me calmly "believe me when I tell you that it hurts me that you have to go through this."

    "I know Jake, I already know your habit of protecting me from anything." I smile sweetly at him and he does the same. I takes his hands and places them on the gauze. "Press, because I have to prepare the needle and the thread."

    "All right…"

    "I don't think it's as difficult as sewing one of the cushions that Henry chewed on when he was little." I lie, it was partly a reason, but I had been sewing for a long time. A story that I did not want to reveal at the moment. I’m embarrassed.

    "Where is he?"

    "At Lian's house, I left it in her care," I says, while I do the work. Well, I think it's a little different from everything I've sewn so far... My disgusted face is priceless. "I should have gone looking for him before coming here."

    "I would have... I would have liked to meet him..."

    "You will." I look at him and see that his eyes are closed. I'm starting to get scared "Jake? Jake! Now don't do this to me!"

I checked his pulse and sighed in relief. He just passed out.

I continued with his wound and cleansed the area, ridding it of his blood remnants. I finish the bandage with effort and let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

Knowing that he is sleeping, I start to cry, knowing that he couldn't see me like that. This shouldn't have happened to him. Not this way. 

When I'm done, I pick up everything and go to the bathroom to wash my bloody hands.

It's not my fault, right? Someone has to tell me that it's not my fault that because I'm like this. 

Yes. 

Yes it is.

I should have gone to the mine. This way, the FBI would have been prevented from knowing he was there. And who knows how they knew.

I have to change his clothes at least… I'll go get his travel bag.

Slowly and with effort, I try to put on some more comfortable pants that I had in his suitcase, also placing a towel under it, preventing it from getting stained again by the blood on the bed.

With effort, I try to get him to take a painkiller, talking to him calmly so that he doesn't get scared when I wake him up. He hardly even realizes how exhausted he is.

I lie on the opposite side of the wound, exhausted.

I took his hand and caressed it lovingly, while with the other, brushed his hair from his face. He looks very calm, as if nothing had happened. I'm happy that he’s okay. 

I finally close my eyes, letting myself be overcome by sleep.

The sound of thunder wakes me up, almost jumping out of bed.

I hear the rain. A relaxing soundBut that only lasts a few seconds when I see that Jake is not in bed.

    "No, no, no, no" I look at the floor, finding myself with the travel bag "Where is he?!" I get up and head to the living room, expecting to find him there.

Nothing. 

A stupid idea comes to my mind. And he has gone out on the street?

 I go to the entrance and go out. Fortunately, he hasn't left, he walks very slowly.

    “Jake!” I call to him but he doesn't react. I run up to him. It's going to get worse in the rain!  "Jake! Stop!"

     I grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. His eyes seem lost. Sleepwalker?

    "Macie…" he whispers my name, worried "I have to go get Hannah and Richy…"

    "Jake, Hannah is safe, remember?"

     It hurts me to see him this way. So weak.

    "No… She doesn't…"

    "Yes, Alan saved her, I told you." I have to remind him, because if I forced him into the house, he might be angry because I'm forbidding him to go after his sister. "We made it, remember? Let's go home" he's burning up, he's got a fever. He needs a doctor, he can't go on like this.

    "To home…"

    "Yes." Slowly, I lead him back to the house. I smiled at him so he wouldn't worry about me too. "My house is your house. It's ours. Here you are safe. "

     "Macie…. You're an angel."

I don't roll my eyes. I don't blush. If for him I am the person who has saved his life, then I will be. He has always protected me, now he has to take care of him. He deserves it. Jake deserves to be taken care of too.

As I towel him dry and put clean clothes back on him, I call on my phone, waiting for him to answer.

    “Macie…?” my cousin's voice sounds sleepy ”It's two in the morning. What happened?”

    “Who's there at this hour?” I hear Sophia, his girlfriend, on the other end of the line, also half asleep.

    “It's Macie. ”

    “God, it's so late.”

    "Stephan, I need your help." I finish getting Jake completely dry and lay him down again. I don't give a shit about the time, I have to help Jake ”Wasn't one of your band a doctor?”

    "Ashley? Why are you asking about her?" I get nervous that he's asking questions in such a hurry. "Are you okay? What happened?"

    "You just tell me a way to contact her!"

    "Okay, calm down, don't yell at me."

    "Sorry, it's a matter of life or death."

    "WHAT?!"

    "Don't yell" Sophia tells him.

    "Macie!" What's going on?! "

    "I can't tell you, I only ask you to send her to my house, now."

    "You have no intention of telling me, do you?"

    "Stephan!"

    "Yes, okay, I'll call right away to come to your house!"

    "As soon as I hang up."

    "Received. Right now. "

I hung up and looked at Jake.

I placed a hand on his forehead. He still has a fever.

I'd better dry off too or else I won't be able to take care of him if I get sick.

    <<I hope she arrives quickly. >>

Part 2

[dead-un-arrival]

Hangover Confessions - Pete Davidson

Summary: It's your birthday and you're in love with your best friend.

Disclaimer: I've never been drunk so I don't know what it's like. 😂

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff, getting drunk, awkward Pete.

Masterlist

Another season of SNL has finally wrapped. It was like the weight of the world was lifted off of everyone's shoulders. Everyone had spent the day cleaning out their belongings in their offices or dressing rooms and were now getting ready for the end of the season cast party. It also just happened to be your 21st birthday. You were really excited that you got to spend the day with your coworkers and friends. Especially with Pete and Colson who were your best friends.

You met Pete when you started working at SNL two years ago. You started off as strictly coworkers who only spoke when you were discussing skit ideas in the writing room. It was really easy to get to know Pete since he didn't usually beat around the bush. He was always very honest and open about himself. You found that very attractive.

Pete on the other hand, really just saw you as another writer. He did think you were cute, but you were also young and he didn't want to be the one to corrupt you. So he kept his distance and treated you as a coworker. Until one day, you were blaring Kid Cudi so loud that he could hear it outside of your headphones. That struck a special chord in Pete's heart and you've been close friends ever since.

It only makes sense that after befriending Pete you would be friends with Colson too since he and Pete were attached at the hip. In the past two years, the three of you have learned a lot about each other. Pete was absolutely smitten. But again, while he was only 5 years older than you, you just turned 21 and Pete thought you should be able to be young, wild, and free. Pete was ready to settle down and get married. And he didn't want to ruin what you two already had. You never made any moves towards Pete because you didn't think he saw you as anything more than just a friend. Which you were more than grateful to be. But the idea of keeping all your feelings buried hurt. You told yourself that you had to take a chance and shoot your shot; no matter if it worked or not. That way you could move on and there would be no more, "what ifs".

But now you were in a loud club, downing your fourth shot of tequila with all of your coworkers cheering you on and singing happy birthday. This was not the atmosphere you wanted to talk to Pete in so you'd just have to wait until you were sober. Pete wasn't drinking, just high which is just his normal state of being. Colson was pretty much staying by Pete's side but every once in a while he would go out onto the floor and dance with his girlfriend Megan.

Pete made sure to keep an eye on you at all times. While he mingled with his other friends and coworkers he also wanted to make sure you were safe. He remembers when he turned 21 and got fucked up. He wanted to make sure no one tried anything with you since you were now borderline wasted. He looked for you in the crowd to see you and Aidy Bryant grinding on each other. He laughed to himself knowing that if you were sober, you'd be mortified by your actions.

He saw you walk towards the bar again, so he met you over there.

"Looks like you're having fun." He jokes, sitting on a chair next to you.

"Oh my God the best! I feel amazing Pete!" You yelled, leaning into Pete as you wait for your next drink to be mixed.

Pete laughs with you. The bartender hands you your drink.

"Thank you!!!" You sing.

"Hey, you're pretty cute, do you think I could get your number?"

"Ah, sorry, I have a boyfriend." You explain as you grab Pete's hand and set it on the counter so the bartender can see.

"I understand, happy birthday." He replied then went to the other side to make more drinks.

"Sorry for that. In my experience, guys usually take rejection better if I say I'm in a relationship than if a girl's just not into them." You sigh as you spin around in your stool to look at the crowd.

It took Pete a second to comprehend what had just happened. It kind of pissed him off to think of guys giving you shit for turning them down. He ignored that for now and turned around in his chair as you did.

"Do you get hit on a lot?" He asked, mentally facepalming himself as soon as it left his mouth.

"Actually, yeah. But never by the guy I like. Usually a bunch of catcalling."

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you continued to sip on your drink. You weren't looking to black out on your first legal night of alcohol but you did want to have a good time.

"I think this is my favorite so far. I've only had two actual drinks besides the tequila but this is great." You stated.

"Is that a strawberry daiquiri?" Pete asked.

"Yeah, do you want to try it?" You offered. Pete shook his head.

"I'm the designated driver." You laughed, knowing how high Pete got before the party. Although that was two hours ago so by the time he had to actually take people home, he would probably be fine.

"My mom never drank very often but when she did it was a strawberry daiquiri." You recalled, "She let me try one once. I got a lot of virgin versions after that but now that I can have the real thing I love it even more." You smiled.

Pete smiled too as he took in your appearance. You were wearing a leopard print blouse with ripped jeans and black high heeled boots. Your hair was pulled up with loose pieces falling down by your ears. Your cheeks were warm from the alcohol that Pete thought made you look adorable. He loved learning about you and your family. The way you smiled while talking about your mom made him smile too.

"Oh my God I love this song!" you yelled as 'Erase Me' by Kid Cudi started.

You left your drink which was almost empty on the counter, grabbed both of Pete's hands and dragged him out onto the dancefloor with you. You jumped and spun around a lot with Pete standing there awkwardly as he just laughed at you. Colson eventually came to save the day and stood awkwardly with him as you and Megan danced on each other.

An hour later, you were now twice as drunk and stumbling over air. That's when Pete decided it was time for you to go home. Despite your protests, he knew you. It was 2am and you were going to be in a world of pain tomorrow. So he told Colson he was leaving, picked you up over his shoulder, put you in his car and started driving you to your home.

You were asleep when he pulled into your apartment complex. He carried you up to your door and dug through your purse for your keys. Once he finally got the door open, he carried you to your room and laid you on your bed. He stayed there for a second, contemplating what he should do, if anything at all. When he couldn't make up his mind, he called Colson.

"Yo dude, what's up?" Colson asked. He was now at Megan's house watching a movie.

"Yo, so I'm at (Y/N)'s right? She's passed out so I left her in her bed but like I don't wanna leave her alone cause she ain't gonna remember a single thing in the morning." Pete explained in a hushed voice as he left your room.

"So just spend the night. You've been there before right? So it won't be weird."

"Yeah I've been here but I haven't spent the night."

"Does she have a couch? Just chill there." Colson reasoned, "Did she puke? Did you have to change her clothes?"

"No, she's fine. I just left her on her bed." Pete grimaced, confused.

"Dude, you gotta get her into some comfortable clothes! No girl wants to sleep in her bra." Colson scolded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Megan could be heard laughing in the background.

"Are you fucking kidding dude? I'm not taking her bra off while she's passed out that's fucking weird."

"Okay, fine but at least take her shoes off that's fucking weird too."

"Whatever dude." Pete sighed and hung up.

He walked back to your room where you were still sound asleep. You looked peaceful. A nice contrast from your actions at the club. He started to unzip your boots and slowly slid them off. The last thing he wanted was for you to wake up at this moment. That'd be awkward. You still had your purse wrapped across your body so he carefully slid it off and around your head before laying you back down on your pillows. He took your blankets and covered your body.

Once you were taken care of, he went into your kitchen, found some Advil and a bottle of water which he placed on your end table next to your bed. Before he left your room for the night, he took a moment to look around. While he'd been to your apartment a few times before, this was the first time he saw your room. Your mirror had flowers painted along the border and you had a dream catcher above your bed. He closed your door and went to your couch where he would spend the night.

____________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you didn't wake up until the sun started to shine through your window shade. The second you gained consciousness, you felt the pain rush through your head. You rolled over, looking for your phone but found the Advil and water Pete had left the night before. You gratefully took two, still confused about last night's events. You found your purse on your floor next to your bed and in it was your phone. You had a dozen notifications of everyone who tagged you in their social media posts. At one point, you were wearing a sash that said, "I'm 21 bitch."

You whipped your blankets off of you looking to see what you were wearing. Surprised that you were still in your clothes. You changed into some shorts, took your bra off, and pulled a sweatshirt on over your head with your hood on. You went into your bathroom seeing your makeup was still on from the night before and took it off. After going to the bathroom you went into the kitchen to make some food but was startled when you saw a man sitting on your couch watching TV.

"Whoa! It's just me!" Pete yelled, startled by your outburst.

"Jesus Pete. You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?" Pete motioned for you to sit next to him.

"I knew you got pretty fucked up last night and I didn't want you to wake up alone after I got you home so I just kinda slept on your couch to make sure you were okay. I hope you're cool with that."

"Uh, yeah okay." You mumbled.

It made sense when he said it but your mind was still reeling from the hidden meaning. He spent the night in your apartment. He made sure you were okay. He took you home, put you to bed, and stayed with you until morning. Your heart thumped a little faster.

"I went out and got you some breakfast too." He handed you a blueberry muffin and a latte from Starbucks. He had just finished eating his breakfast sandwich.

"How do you know what I like?" You asked, taking a sip.

"I've known you for two years and every day I see you walk in with the same exact order. I took a guess." Pete laughed.

You smiled. Heat started to rush to your cheeks but this time from nerves.

"So, what exactly happened last night? Did I make a fool of myself?"

"Not from what I could see. You can actually handle alcohol really well. You started with some shots then had a few different kinds of drinks throughout the night. You dance with and on a lot of coworkers but don't worry they looked like they were into it. Then it started getting late so I took you home and now we're here."

"You took me home, took off my shoes and put me to bed, left me Advil, and stayed with me all night just to make sure I was okay?"

"Yeah... is that weird?" Pete hesitated, worried he had overstepped some boundary between the two of you.

You shook your head, "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Hey, do you want me to go? If you like, want to decompress or something? I just wanted to make sure you woke up."

"No, Pete it's fine, really. You're more than welcome to stay if you want to."

You started to eat your muffin, both of your attention now on the TV where Rick and Morty was playing. It didn't take much for your mind to wander though, and you remembered the feelings you were going to confess to Pete yesterday. Your face was heating up now and you were breathing heavy but you stood by your ideas. You had to say something just to move past this moment in your life. You had to know if you had a chance of starting a relationship or if you were just going to be friends.

"Hey, Pete?" You sat crisscrossed facing him.

"What's up?"

"Okay, so there was something I wanted to talk to you about yesterday but then I decided because I was gonna get wasted, I should wait."

"Okay." Pete turned to face you.

"I really like you. Like, more than a friend. You're such an incredible person. I love your humor, I find you attractive, and you're the nicest person I've ever met. And I don't know if you feel the same way but I just thought I'd tell you in case you did. But if you don't that's totally fine I can just be your friend but I just needed to tell you how I feel." You finished, picking at what was left of your muffin, staring at the couch cushion that separated you and Pete. Pete smiled at you, though you couldn't see it. He took his right hand and lifted your chin to look up at him.

"I really like you too. I have for a while I just didn't want to fuck up your life."

"You already fucked up my life."

"I know but there aren't any strings attached to friendship. I'm pretty fucked up up here (Y/N)." Pete said, pointing to his brain, "You're still young, you deserve to have fun and not worry about me."

"Would you stop it? I don't want to be young and dumb and date for sex. Don't tell me what I want when I know who I am and what I want is right in front of me. I know you're fucked up Pete. I've known you for two years. I still want you." "Why?"

Pete just didn't get it. He didn't like himself. He usually scared girls off and he didn't want to scare you too. Which is why he tried so hard to just stay friends. You weren't having it though. You might be 21 but you were mature beyond your years. You were ready to marry young and experience life with someone. You wanted Pete to be that someone. You moved your muffin to the coffee table and moved so you were now sitting on Pete's lap with your hands on his shoulders.

"(Y/N)..." Pete warned. You shushed him.

"Why not?" You asked him, "Is it so impossible for you to believe that a girl finds you attractive? You're so fucking sexy Pete. Your hair, your eyes, your mouth, your tattoos, your mind. I know what I want in life. I want to get married. I want to have kids. I like you. You just said you liked me too. So why don't we quit playing the what-if game and just try? I want to love you. Let me love you, Pete."

Pete wrapped his arms around your back and leaned you back on the couch so he was holding himself up above you.

"Well, when you put it like that..." He joked.

You laughed as he snuck his left hand under your sweatshirt and kissed up your neck before he kissed you like you would disappear tomorrow.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Me again 😂 could I get numbers 6, 16 and 18 with Alden please ❤️

6. "Shh, you're safe. I won't let you go."

16. "I think I might be falling in love with you."

18. "It's not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger."

Lone wolf

Alden Parker was a loner in his job. He had some subordinates, but most of the time, he preferred working his case by himself. It wasn't an ego problem or not being a team player, it's just that he works better that way. And since he was very efficient in his job, his bosses never told him anything about it.

No one ever told him anything at all, until you. You were new to the DC's office, but had been a FBI Agent for a few years already. You knew your job and considered yourself a good federal agent. When your boss told you to work a case with Alden Parker, you didn't fight it, fully aware of the agent's lone wolf reputation.

Your first meeting with wasn't bad. It actually went pretty smoothly, despite the fact that you were talking about murders. Alden appeared like a nice guy, composed and professional. The case was tricky but he knew where he wanted to go, which leads he wanted to follow. He had the courtesy of telling you about them, but didn't invite you to tag along.

"Where are you going?" he asked, as he saw you grabbing your badge and gun.

"Interviewing the suspect with you?"

"No need to. I got it."

"I'm sure you do, but I'd like to be there." Alden opened his mouth to argue but you were faster. "Look, I remembered the address so I'm going. It'd be stupid to take two cars, don't you think?"

Too bad to be working this case by himself.

The case was more than what it had appeared. There was more victims than you knew - but no new ones luckily -, and you and Alden kept following leads that didn't pin out. The first week was complicated because his lone wolf attitude was strong - you quickly realized that he really wasn't doing it on purpose, it was just who he was and how he worked - but eventually, he started to make some efforts to not shut you down or act without consulting you. After all, Alden quickly took notice of what a good agent you were. He admired your intelligence, and eagerness. You were quick to think and organized.

And you were extremely gorgeous. But that wasn't something he could focus on. Alden drew lines into his dating life; no coworkers, no one too young - ten years was the limit. Unfortunately, you crossed both squares.

For a few weeks, you and Alden were 24/7 together, trying to solve this case. Such a proximity with one person can lead to more, and it was the case for both of you. You just didn’t say anything about it and neither did Alden.

One night, as you were showering before bed, you had a breakthrough on the case. You weren’t sure where it came from but it was there, so instead of putting your PJs, you grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater. You looked at something in the case files and you followed your guts.

On the ride, you called Alden to let him know. “Hey Parker, I think I know where to find him.”

“Where?”

You exclaimed your theory and Alden listened intensely. “Okay, you may be right. Pick me up and we’ll go together.”

“Um—too late, I just left DC.”

“Jesus, Y/N!” You could hear that he was rushing. “Don’t do anything without me. I’ll be right behind.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious, Y/N! If we’re right, that guy is extremely dangerous.”

“I’ll wait for you, Alden.” You reassured him.

You really did plan on waiting for Alden at first. But when you heard some weird noises coming from inside the cabin, you followed your instinct and went in. You kicked down the door, announced yourself but you couldn’t hear the noises anymore. You took a look around the cabin when something hit the back of your head.

You were knocked out for a few seconds, and when you came back, a man - your suspect - was trying to tie you up. Immediately you kicked him as hard as you could and a fight started.

The man was strong. Definitely stronger than you. You put up a fight but you knew you were losing. You tasted your own blood that was coming out of your nose. You felt lightheaded, and in a lot of pain. Before you knew you, you were laying on the floor again, the man’s hands around your throat and you were gasping for air. He was strangling you.

You really thought that you were going to die when the pressure disappeared. The man collapsed on top of you before someone pushed him off. Trying to breath again, you saw Alden’s face above you. He helped you sitting up, holding you against his chest. “Shh, you're safe.” He told you. “I won't let you go." Meaning, I won’t let you die.

The man was dead, one bullet to the head from Alden. Your temporary partner called your bosses and ME as it was the procedure. Then he joined you outside where you were sitting on a table. Alden settled between your legs and took at you at your wounds. He was extremely soft in his touch, you’d melt under different circumstances. But you were in a lot of pain and you started to realize that you almost died in that cabin. Alden saved your life.

While waiting for everyone, Alden Parker cleaned your wounds the best he could. “EMTs are on their way too.” He informed you.

“Alden, I’m fine.”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit, L/N. I’m pretty mad at you right now, so it’s better if we don’t argue.”

You sadly nodded. You never meant to make him mad.

A few hours later, you found yourself at the hospital. Diagnostic: concussion, bruised ribs and of course a few cuts and bruises. Luckily, your nose wasn’t broken. You’d be on desk duty for a while, but you didn’t care about it just yet. As you were alone in the room, the aftermath hit. A few more seconds and you’d been dead. Alden warned you and you didn’t listen.

You started to cry and you heard someone coming in. Alden appeared and you immediately dried your tears. You didn’t want him to see you cry.

“It’s not bad to cry.” He said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I think it makes a person stronger.” He added, but you shook your head like you didn’t believe him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, covering your bruises hand with his.

“Like crap.” You admitted, avoiding his gaze.

Alden took a moment to study you and control himself. “What were you thinking?” He muttered.

“I—“ tears reappeared, “you said you didn’t want to argue.” You told him. You weren’t thinking back then and you didn’t want to confess that to him.

Alden saw the tears again, and he gently reached for your cheek, catching them with the back of his hand. “Don’t ever do this, Y/N.” He whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing those words, you finally met his gaze and he took a deep breath. “I think I might be falling in love with you.” He confessed. “So please, don’t ever take such a fucking risk.”

With the tips of his fingers, Alden touched the marks on your neck. He hated them. He wished he could make them disappear by touching and kissing them. “Can you stay?” You asked, putting your hand over his. “And hold me?”

As gently as possible, Alden settled next to you on the small bed and cuddled you. Discussing your relationship could wait, right now he just wanted to take care of you.

The lone wolf may have found his partner.

[tophat-cy]

Lore time (finally)!

Today is the day when I'm going to talk about my ONE AU called "Over the Horizon" because I already did art of it and never showed it because I had the lore to be shown first (Also I sure do love recycling old shit I made do I 😺?).

Good, let's proceed.

Those are forming the basic plot of the AU. It starts with Liam who had a regular day at work and left the office on his bike (ONE 1 reference lol). Everything goes fine until Great Transcendance happens (an Airy original™) that apparently made Liam get teleported in the Waiting Room, and actually face Airy himself...or his voice at least. Airy refers to him as backpack instead of Liam.

As an update of the screenshots from above, after his meeting with Airy, Liam wakes up in a dark abyss like place, with him looking different, in his object form (Note : the characters will have a humanoid design in this AU, and a object form, which resembles their spirit/soul). In that place, he met Stone, in his object/soulscape form, who took him towards a strange purple crystal shard, insisting to touch it. Along with that, they also gave him some notes, either written or drawn on them and put them into Liam (since he is a backpack ngl 😂). He then touched the crystal (since he had no other option) and the place lightened. Some moments later he woke up with Sàier in his face, xey being an object OC that I had for a while (and part of an original storyline as well).

About the crystal shards, those are called Novas and those resulted from the (Airy's original™) Great Transcendance. If someone touches them, the crystal will get somewhat incorporated in the said person, giving them supernatural powers based on the person's character, emotions and other personal stuff a person can have. A thing about the Great Transcendance (GT for short) is that it destroyed at least 90% of the Earth and affected other parallel words as well. Tbh, what y'all expecting :'))?

Above there are two lists with the OtH characters. The first list is with the characters who have been affected by Novas and got supernatural powers. The other list are the ones who didn't got affected by Novas, yet they got involved into this whole story (because Airy™), but developed weapons and other kind of skills instead. The lists are about to get updated sooner or later.

That's all I got so far about my ONE AU. Expect for updates, despite that they're not going to be often.

[fleckcmscott]

A Cup of Cheer

Summary: While waiting for Arthur, Y/N gets ready to deck the halls with love and laughter.

Words: 1,677

Warnings: None

A/N: The idea for this silly little story came to me a couple days ago. I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you to @sweet-nothings04​ for her help with the intro pic! (And Dove chocolate wrappers for inspiring the summary. 😂)

With a slight groan, Y/N kicked off her kitten-heel boots and set her canvas bag on the floor. At fifty-six, she had to admit it was getting harder to lug the faithful tote from the apartment to the subway, to the office, then back again. Arthritis had started in her shoulder, a dull ache that seeped into her neck and burned on frigid days. She'd have to ask Arthur to rub Voltaren on it.

But its minty odor, the smell of nursing homes and geriatric wards, would dispel any magic his hands worked. That'd have to wait. They had to celebrate Christmas Eve with stockings and a tumble in the sack, courtesy of a little help from the tablet they'd dubbed The Blue Wonder.

She plucked the pager from her pocket and removed two AAA batteries. There would be no interruptions this year. The president of Ace Chemicals could call her firm to offer the best plea deal money could buy, and he'd have to leave a message. She retrieved envelopes of red, gold, and green from her inner pocket to lay on the kitchen counter. Glossy stamps featuring wreaths and the Madonna made it clear they were Christmas cards, from Missouri, from Gary, from their bank, from past clients. They'd stay sealed until Arthur returned from his final shift at Donahue's.

Deemed too skinny to play Saint Nick (despite the fourteen pounds he'd put on thanks to marriage and middle age), Arthur had been given the role of the Oldest Elf in Santa's Village, open from ten to four Tuesday through Friday, six on weekends. Apart from the pointy shoes, which even he - a clown by trade - had declared silly, he didn't seem to mind it. There were no tips but he received a firm, hourly wage no one tried to weasel out of and free food from the café on the top floor. He'd brought home roasted ham, baked potatoes, and butternut squash twice this week.

That left her with plenty of time to put the finishing touches on their decorations and wrap the last of his presents. He hadn't asked for much, socks and underwear, whatever she saw that she thought he might like, he didn't need anything. But white undies and plain socks had become elusive, displaced by boxer briefs and ever-present black crews.

As well as she knew him, it made figuring out what to get more of a chore than it ought to be. She'd browsed Wishbooks and catalogs, frowned at cigar humidors and ornate belt buckles, wine corkers in the shape of golf clubs. Arthur smoked cheap cigarettes, eschewed belts of all kinds, and found golf a tedious past time of the wealthy. ("Why do rich people play golf? So poor people can carry their bags.")

A consultation with Patricia at their usual deli, the one around the corner from their old stomping ground Shaw & Associates, had been less than helpful. "Oh, Y/N," she'd said. "You remember how old Robert and I are, right? We're getting rid of stuff, not adding to. By the way, did you want our crystal champagne coupes?"

Y/N had finally decided on a fancy pair of oxfords, brown and black, as Arthur's old pair had a hole in the sole, right under the left toe, that no amount of Shoe Goo could fix. And a mini voice recorder so he could dictate any funny observations or joke ideas when a pen or notebook wasn't handy. Wrapping it in shiny silver paper, flecked with holly and crimson berries, she giggled lightly. She could just imagine him strolling along, trying to look nonchalant as he talked into it.

She placed the packages beneath the Christmas tree, far enough from the tree stand to avoid being splashed. She straightened an ornament or two, flicked a blue bulb into joining its teammates in festive blinking. Tall and proud, the fir was broader than usual, far too fluffy, only realized when they'd hoisted it up against the wall between the kitchen and living room. Arthur had clipped some of the branches, leaving his fingers sticky with sap even after three scrubbings. The tree remained a behemoth.

Their felt stockings hung from his writing nook's room divider with care. She filled his with travel-sized boxes of pecan cookies, a jar of macadamia nuts, a package of nicotine gum he'd likely toss over his shoulder. A sachet held tickets to the Just for Laughs comedy festival, scheduled for next spring. And hidden within a satin wrap was a coupon booklet that included such niceties as "Share a Dessert," "Share a Dance," "Share a Shower." The corner of what looked to be a jewelry box poked out from the top of her stocking, catching her eye. Biting down on her smile, she managed to drag herself away before her nosiness took over and spoiled tonight for both of them. (She'd put on whatever it was before The Blue Wonder.)

Standing before the stereo console, she foraged through their albums until she found his favorite for the holidays, Jackie Gleason Orchestra's By the Fireside. Once the record spun at the volume reserved for lovers, she grabbed a spare set of Christmas lights, the kind with large bulbs that were now considered passé, and an extension cord from the storage closet. She headed towards the fire escape, a balcony in disguise.

It'd started snowing, the velvet black sky spitting flakes that looked like cotton candy. Y/N opened the glass door, glowing lights in hand, and tried to catch some on her tongue, remembering the rare snow shower they'd get in Boonville. When she and Mabel would compete over who could catch the most. Three, four, eight. A gust of cold wind sparked a shiver and Y/N swallowed, making a mental note to put on the kettle when she got back inside.

With the care of a weaver weaving an oriental rug, she looped the lights between the balusters, over the top rail, turned her wrists to prevent tangling. Loop, twist, pull, repeat. Loop, twist, pull, repeat. She'd almost gotten to the middle of the fire escape when the cord ran out. There were no more strands in the closet - they'd used two extra trimming the Behemoth. No other trinkets she'd dare expose to the elements. This would have to do. She gave the unfinished job a small shrug. "Still the merriest balcony on the block."

Once she'd secured the end of the cord to the cold aluminum, she leaned on the railing with her forearms, studied the sidewalk. It was busy, bursting with shoppers rushing home after last minute purchases. Children darted between shopping bags and briefcases. One girl, probably twelve, pigtails flying, seized a snowball from a parked car. Wound her arm like she wanted to bowl a perfect game and got a perfect strike - right in the face of her older brother. A squeal, a squeak, then she fled down the street, narrowly dodging his retaliatory lunge.

Suddenly, Y/N heard the scrape, scrape of a shovel on concrete and turned her attention to their apartment building's entranceway. It was supposed to be the Phelps's turn to clear the front of snow and sleet. But there was Arthur, heaping snow to either side of the door with the bright red shovel that was kept in the lobby. She recognized his tan coat first, the hood covering his head, then his slight swaying as he worked. Puffs rose from him, either his breath in the chilly evening air or the lingering smoke of his last pre-dinner cigarette.

A laugh floated from her throat, a laugh she couldn't have held in if she were attending the most solemn hearing. For at that moment, happiness flooded through her, a joy so deep it felt as though she were a newly dug well with devotion as its water. After seventeen years it still surprised her, how her heart kept finding ways to open itself to him, peeling back petals she hadn't known existed. Her cheeks burned, a side effect of undiluted infatuation, the sting of cold.

And a little mischief, too. She shouted down four floors. "Hey, Mr. Fleck!"

Arthur stopped and looked up, along with every other pedestrian who wanted to know what weirdo was shouting. The hood fell back from his head as he squinted at her, the orange streetlamp brightening the plains of his handsome face and lack of cigarette. He'd aged a little, but like any man who'd always appeared older than the calendar claimed, not much had changed. His sideburns had gone silver, crow's feet extended to his left cheekbone, smile lines adorned the right side of his mouth. She couldn't wait to cup his cheeks, warm him up with the heat of her hands, the fire of her lips.

She bent further, lifted one foot in the air and stood on her toes. Softened her shout into a call that would lure him upstairs. "I love you."

His smile broke wide open, until he was all teeth and dimples. "I'll be right up. Put on coffee?"

"I was thinking chamomile."

He grimaced. "No, coffee. With cocoa mixed in. You'll like it." With that, he put the shovel aside to pick up a plastic bucket, started to strew salt liberally across the sidewalk.

Y/N hurried back inside and rubbed her upper arms, brushed the snow from her ashy gray hair. He must have gotten this idea from Donahue's café. She put on decaf and retrieved the box of Universal Dutch Cocoa mix from the middle shelf. Only one envelope was left, which she flipped over. Taped to it was a gift tag. Instead of filling out the To and From sections, Arthur had written a simple note: "You're the sweetest." Though she grinned, it was a compliment she couldn't quite accept. Whether he believed it or not, his sweetness would always outdo hers.

Popping the top button of her form fitting sweater, she boosted herself on the counter, itching for Arthur to stick his key in the door.

~~~~~

Billy Squier - Christmas Is The Time To Say I Love You

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