#And they said he would come back tomorrow to fix it and tomorrow was yesterday. And no communication from them except an email that I canno

[siobhanromee]

ugh I hate dell

[babygorewhore]

Birthday Girl

Dad’s best friend Logan Howlett x Mutant! fem reader

Your long time crush on your dad’s best friend comes to a head the night of your 26th birthday. W.C a little over 2k.

Thank you so much to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me!!!! I love you!!!

Warnings! Age gap! Male masturbation! Panty stealing! Drinking! Female receiving oral! Praise! Slight degrading! Unprotected sex! Stomach bulge!

It wasn’t like you were committing a crime or anything but it felt incredibly naughty as you stared through the crack of the spare bedroom door.

Logan Howlett, your dad’s best friend was fucking his fist on the mattress. The middle aged man, physically younger than your father but in actuality he was hundreds of years old.

You kept your breathing as shallow as possible, knowing any wrong move he would hear you or smell you but he was too distracted at the moment. Logan was staying a few days at your home while his apartment was being fixed.

Like any normal girl, you had a massive crush on him. Ever since you met him, a few years ago on your twenty first birthday when your father protected him from mutant hunter, you were head over heels.

His gruff, harsh demeanor and bad temper didn’t scare you. Oppositely, you enjoyed the way he dealt with people. He spoke everything you secretly thought. He just wasn’t afraid to say it. Your father was normal but your deceased mother passed on a mutation. One you kept hidden from other people, until yesterday when Logan finally saw you use it. You lit a fire outside, unaware he was outside smoking a cigar.

You grimaced when you heard him turn around with an unreadable expression and head back inside the house. Neither of you had spoken after that.

You were on a college break, visiting home for your birthday that was tomorrow. Your dad wasn’t going to attend the party at the local bar your best friend was throwing so you had a celebratory dinner earlier.

And now, you were still watching Logan roll his hips. Thrusting into his beefy hand that tugged himself as he panted and you had to bite your lip when you heard him moan.

Only he said your name as he pleasured himself.

Shock overcame you as he repeated it and then you caught a glimpse of a pair of black panties that were yours.

That son of a bitch.

A mixture of smugness and your hackles rising settled in your chest. He was always polite towards you, treated you as anyone would expect given his friendship with your dad. But he hadn’t hinted that he felt attracted to you. Let alone attracted enough to you to steal a pair of underwear from your room, wrap them around his dick and jerk off.

You just saw Logan’s dirty little secret and you smirked to yourself. A pulse in between your thighs throbbed as he came to his climax. Cum sprayed on his hand, his thick fingers shaking as it coated your panties. He sloppily wiped his hand on his exposed lower stomach. Hardened muscle twitching and you finally stepped away.

Your vibrator entertained the sensitive center of your pussy minutes later in your bedroom. The image of Logan touching himself seared in your mind as you toyed with your entrance at the same time. Wishing it was him instead with his much larger size.

The next morning, after you’d only gotten a few measly hours of sleep from fucking your toy, you’d jogged into the kitchen. You saw your father pouring himself and you a cup of coffee. But you didn’t see Logan.

“Ah, yeah, Logan had to head off early. The nice professor he’s friends with offered him speedier help with his apartment.” Your father explained, noticing the look of confusion on your face.

You tried to hide your disappointment but your dad must have caught on. “I know you’re sweet on him so I told him about the party tonight.”

You could have strangled him but you sat down and grumbled.

Your childhood home was a farm, hidden away from the main town. Easier to keep your mutation a secret and your mother before she died. Which was the reason you didn’t think twice about using your power.

“Logan gave me the blues for keeping the fact you were a pyro a secret,” Your dad chuckled and you winced. “But he came around. He always does.”

“Yeah, well he’s missing my birthday again. So, he must still be offended.” You indicated that you wanted a change of subject and it was dropped.

When you changed into your outfit later after a shower, applying a face full of makeup, you realized that Logan had taken another pair of underwear.

The bar was warm, not only from the lights but also from the shot pouring down your throat. Your best friend cheered as you slammed a hand on the counter playfully. Your black dress hugged you in all the right places, heels making your legs flex when you sauntered. You felt confident as you celebrated the number 26.

You both danced, drank and even sang a few karaoke songs. She had gifted you a silver crown when you came in and you pushed away thoughts of Logan for a while.

Until you saw him at the end of the bar, lazily sipping a beer wearing a deep red t-shirt. It accentuated his strong form and you ran your tongue along your lower lip. Tasting flavored lip gloss. Your friend turned and whipped back to you.

“Is that him?” She mouthed and you nodded. She giggled and gestured with her head for you to approach him.

You grasped your other alcohol drink, downing a large gulp and smoothed your hair. You walked towards him and plastered a charming smile.

“Logan? I didn’t expect to see you here!” He had the decency to lower his head, his way of greeting and he raised the bottle between his fingers.

“Stopped in for a few beers.” His short response made you bristle, especially knowing he did like you.

“Do you want to join us? It’s my birthday.” Your question hung in the air for a few seconds and Logan seemed to contemplate it.

“I’m gonna pass on that. But happy birthday. You’re a good girl. Your old man did a great job with you. Sure your mama would be proud of ya.” Logan’s refusal mixed in with a compliment made you unsure what to say.

Instinctively, you set a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He was so firm, radiating heat and he looked at your fingers.

“Logan, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what you saw,” you began but he cut you off with a shrug, making you drop your hand.

“Don’t worry about it. None of my business. But it wouldn’t have hurt to know that you would have needed protection during the attack.” He gripped the beer bottle harder and you clenched your jaw.

“And it wouldn’t have hurt to know you were stealing my panties but here we are.”

Logan dropped the bottle and you smiled wickedly until he stood up. He lightly wrapped his hand around your forearm and leaned down. He opened and closed his mouth but you only focused on the smell of alcohol. You leaned up, your lips finding his jaw and you kissed lightly. His facial hair tickled your skin and he jerked back.

“You-you-“

“Is this dude showing you a good time?” You looked and saw a man near your age standing close to you. He was cute but not on Logan’s level.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation.” Logan barked at him but the younger male wouldn’t be scared off right away.

“Looks like the lady is the one making all the moves and you’re just not paying attention. Come on, baby. Let me buy you a round.”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You answered and Logan growled.

“I’m not done talking to you-“ And you walked off.

Or you tried to but you felt steel arms loop underneath your legs and support your back. Your feet dangled above the ground, your heels clacking as Logan began marching towards the exit. You smacked him upside the head.

“Logan! My friend-“ you shrieked and you saw her shocked yet pleased expression.

“I’ll call an Uber!” She called out and waved.

Logan wasn’t fazed by your tipsy protests and another smack to his head. He carried you effortlessly to his truck that was parked in a dark corner.

But your pettiness caused you to scurry away when he set you down and climbed into the bed of the truck.

You clumsily landed in a heap on your ass, dress hitched up and Logan sighed in frustration. “Get in the passenger seat. I’m gonna take you home.”

“I’m not going home yet. I was having fun and you’re being a grumpy dickwad.” You narrowed your eyes and Logan held out his hands exasperated.

“Grumpy dickwad?”

“Yeah! And panty stealer!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hissed and you raised your eyebrows. Sensing a challenge.

Logan caught on to the idea in your head and swiftly hopped in the back of the truck. He cupped his palm over your mouth.

“Shhh, the hells the matter with you?” You nipped at him and he rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Biting? That’s childish.”

You flicked your fingers, a small flame appearing like you were about to light a candle and you waved it near his arm. Logan reached down and smacked the side of your ass. You gasped from behind his hand.

“Yeah. You want another one? Keep being a little stubborn mule and I’ll do it harder.” You thought about it but he slowly removed his palm.

Logan noticed your lipgloss smeared and he swiped his thumb across your lip. You sucked the digit into your mouth and he exhaled sharply. He pulled it out and leaned in closer.

“I know I shouldn’t have taken them. Made me feel like a dirty old man but-you’re so fuckin gorgeous I forgot myself.” His tone held lust and regret. Logan pressed his forehead to yours and you breathed in his scent.

“Kiss me.” You whispered and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, don’t make me beg. You’ve already taken two pairs…it’s the least you can do.” You gave him pouty lips.

Logan seized the opportunity and caught your mouth in a kiss. It was better than you could have ever imagined. His brutal force he always held was there. The way his hands moved and roamed your curves. He squeezed your hips and moved you on your back.

He pulled you closer as Logan’s weight hovered above your body. His hand moved to massage your tit as his jean clad thighs maneuvered between yours.

“Can’t say no to you, birthday girl. You gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?” He whispered and you whined with a nod. Logan kissed his way down, moving aside your panties and he groaned.

He buried his face in your cunt, his tongue lapping at your clit and took his time savoring your taste. You grind your pelvis against his face, Logan pulled back and spit on your pussy. He sucked and fucked your entrance with his mouth. Causing your nipples to harden as he squeezed your breast.

“That’s my girl, hump my face. Mhm, knew you were a slut but didn’t think you’d be a goddamn perv.” Logan sneered and took your clit between his lips.

You were gasping and arching your back as your orgasm was approaching. Your fingers were in his dark hair peppered with gray and pulling hard. It was probably suffocating him as your thighs pressed against his head but he didn’t care.

You were seconds from cumming when he ripped away but didn’t give you time to protest. Logan shoved his jeans down, halfway down his legs and he took his dick out. He ran the tip along your slit, smearing the precum.

You wrapped your thighs around him, ankles crossing as Logan thrusted into you. His size made you suck in a harsh breath but he aided you by circling your center with his thumb. Logan slammed into balls deep, making you moan.

His lips kissed your neck as he felt the bulge in your stomach.

“Fuckin you full. Knew you could take it. You’re such a good girl, feel so good. Shit, such a tight pussy.” He praised and your eyes rolled back.

“Going dumb on me already? My dick so good you’re panting like a puppy?” Logan ran his tongue along your throat and gave you a messy kiss.

The pleasure was overwhelming and he hauled your legs higher. Taking them from around his waist and gave you a deeper angle. Your underwear was still moved to the side, he liked feeling the material against his cock.

You drooled as you came on his dick, creaming on it and Logan moved harder. Deeper and your head lulled back as he fucked you through it.

“Uh huh, let me have it. Give me all that cum, doll. Such a good little whore,” he chuckled. “You gonna let me fill you up?”

“Please,” You managed and Logan gave you a couple more thrusts before his dick twitched.

Thick ropes of cum emptied into you and Logan huffed. Moaning and rolling his hips as he chased his high.

“You did such a good job,” He told you and slowed down. “You wanna head out somewhere? I wanna make sure to lick up my mess I made in you.”

Dividers by @anitalenia

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @taintandviolent @starkeysprincess @usergeta @loserboysandlithium @oceanblvd111 @justafangirls-blog

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒.

💞 — in which professor divus crewel is down bad for his spouse.

💞 — divus crewel x reader

💞 — warnings: none really, just fluff and ace and deuce being ace and deuce.

💞 — around 700 words!! not very long, but yk it came to me when i should have been writing my essay (due tomorrow) since that card came out. ive been hella offline, my cousin had a malwi (yemeni bridal party) yesterday, and the wedding is tomorrow, and my other cousin is in the process of having engagement parties all throughout july--hope you enjoy!

“No way you get bitches,” 

“What was that, Trappola?” Crewel shot a glare at his student who was staring at the picture on his desk.

The picture was of him and his spouse, looking very happy. He looked relaxed in the picture, his arm draped around you while you held his face in your hands and kissed his cheek. The best part was that you were dressed in one of his designs, looking ever so elegant in the fur shawl over your shoulders.

Ace stiffened up and was sent a concerned glance from Deuce, “Uhm, nothing… sir,” he quickly corrected himself.

He could not help it—all the time he spent in Professor Crewel’s class was filled with a certain strictness that he did not think anyone would find appealing. The redhead glanced at the picture again, before back at his professor.

Deuce was sweating, praying to whatever was in the sky that he would not get caught up in whatever trouble Ace would be in. He almost wanted to shake some sense in his dormmate.

Crewel drew the silence out, just for the sake of intimidating his students a little longer before his brows softened. He would not do anything further wreck his mood, not when the love of his life would come over and share lunch with him. He sighed, raising a red gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’ll let it slide this once, pup.”

The cyan-eyed student visibly slumped in relief.

He handed each of them their corrected worksheets. They both had detailed notes written in the margins on what they could do to improve. He pointed out how Ace could use his skills in Magic Analysis and apply them to Alchemy, and gave Deuce examples that could make more sense to him. He was a strict professor, but that did not mean he was a bad professor. He knew his rowdier dogs could improve—he expected them to. He laid out the resources, they just had to use them.

“Thank you, professor!” exclaimed Deuce, bowing his head in respect as he held the page to his chest. Deep down, he appreciated his professor's willingness to correct his work so thoroughly.

Ace nodded, as if sharing the thanks with Deuce, before following his classmate out.

Things stayed quiet before you burst through the doors, carrying lunch bags with you, wearing that smile he loved so much. Your clothes were a bit of a mess, but when were they not? You were always running about and doing something.

Crewel stood from his seat, a softer grin on his face as he stepped forward, his arms reaching out to adjust your outfit. Gentle hands tugged at the collar and fixed your mixed-up buttons, “Now, I wonder what circus you just returned from,”

You laughed and leaned into his touch, “Just the kitchen, nothing too crazy, Divus. I made raisin butter and homemade bread,” you told him, excitedly.

His thumb brushed over some flour left on your cheek, “I can see that much,” he muttered before he moved to your side and slid his hand down to the small of your back, “Come sit,” he said, guiding you to the seat across from his desk.

“You saved me from another lunch spent playing chess with Mozus,”

“Oh, come on. You act like spending time with him is a chore,” you replied, reaching into the bags to set the food on the desk for you guys to share.

He carefully moved his things out of the way, before taking his seat as elegantly as ever, “It’s only a chore when he spends thirty minutes deciding on his next move.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “One day you’ll be just as old and spending thirty minutes buttoning up your vest. When that happens, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

He let out a little laugh at that. Your joke just affirmed what he always knew, you would be with him forever, even when white became the natural color of his hair, even once his students were visiting him as adults with their own lives, and thanking him for his harshness. He let out a breath of contentment, before carefully cutting the bread you made for him, “How was work, my love?”

[bettymylove]

Can you please do a Theo not fix where the reader is his best friend who he has been in love with his entire life and they are always snuggling and she is always on his lap but then she sees him with some other girl talking being flirty and gets jealous and avoids him and agrees to go on a date with someone else in front of him and he loses it and tells her he is in love with her and it ends in smut?

can I just say I love this ideaaa AAAHH!!

Something

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: read the askk<33 18+ smut

a/n: loved writing thiss

to other people the friendship of you and theo was not what usually friends were, you had no walls up against each other, being completely transparent to each other.

it was kind of a known fact you both harbored some feelings for each other, even though it had never been said however most people keep their distance from both of you.

you were both overly touchy with each other, him always touching you in some way, whether it be a hand on your thigh in class or making you sit on his lap in the common room just so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, all of this was completely normal to you.

it was after lunch on a friday, all the students were completely free from classes and you decided to utilize this time to finish you assignments so you could enjoy the hogsmeade trip tomorrow.

however reaching the library, you heard theo's laugh, the sound you could recognize anywhere and as soon as you started to walk towards it, you stopped in your won footsteps, since his laugh wasn't the only one, there was one more accompanying him.

he was laughing with another girl.

he was touching her knee and she had her hand on his arm, they were practically lying on each other. The urge you had to finish your schoolwork died, and soon tears began to roll down your cheeks, how could he betray you like this.

theo heard your familiar footsteps and started to follow you, calling your name but you gave no response which was very weird, since you were always cheery to have him around.

this behaviour continued well into the next day, he was ready to go to hogsmeade with you but it seemed like you had other plans, since at breakfast when a boy from ravenclaw had asked you out on a date you had said yes, that too in front of him.

he was confused to say the least, and was looking for an answer, his hand found your forearm when you once again tried to escape.

"so you're really going on a date with him?" he asked in pure shock, not being able to recover from the fact that you had said yes.

"do you have a problem with me going?" you had asked in a snarky voice, still thinking he was behaving irrationally.

"of course, i thought we had something" his tone and face all reflected sadness and pure betrayal, "I had thought that too, until I saw you flirt with that girl in the library yesterday" you had retorted.

"I was trying to get her to do my homework for me, so I could spend more time with you" he said in a gentle voice.

"why do you even care theo that I'm going on a date it's not like we're dating" you longed for an answer, to have some official word for whatever your relationship was.

"because i love you", he said in a slightly raised voice, "it's so obvious i do, everyone knows it and you should too, i love you y/n"

he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, like you wished he would, pushing you back on the wall near you which secluded you from everyone.

his kisses started trailing downwards, he was sucking on your neck while his hands were all over your body, he soon went down on his knees, staring up at you, "let me show you how much you mean to me."

please was the only word leaving your mouth, which was soon replaced with moans as soon as his tongue touched you, swirling around, he was practically devouring you, urging you to come undone on his face.

"let it go baby, come on my face" and so you did chanting his name as if it was only thing you knew in this world.

"theo, please for merlin's sake fuck me" and he couldn't deny your pretty face unbuttoning your shirt, but still not letting it fall he started leaving marks all over there as well.

you had unbuckled his belt and soon got his cock out, it was red at the tip leaking some precum and you couldn't help but move your hands up and down on it.

he had soon took both your hands and pinned them above your head, urging you to jump and as soon as you did, he had his dick inside of you.

he was thrusting so hard and so fast that you could see stars already, moaning his name while he was still kissing your neck, it was all you could have imagined.

"theo, I'm gonna come" you had managed to say between gaspy breaths, and he had urged you to do so, since he was on the verge itself.

he had finished inside you filling you up to the brim, and you felt content with him.

"so, I hope you're gonna cancel the date" he said and you only laughed in response.

[macfrog]

champagne problems sex on fire chapter ten

i'm not sorry!!!!! you'll never catch me!!!! (im, like, super sorry)

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: the secrecy between you and joel comes to a head. one huge, explosive, painful head.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, whew boy the angst is big in this one sorry, reader has a lot of internal struggle, daddy issues and commitment issues to the max (ha), memories of parental abandonment and adultery, sort of vague mention/description of reader having panic attacks, attempts to initiate sex (but alas, only one small mention of previous sex), Big Argument, alcohol consumption, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, soft!joel, fluff and angst. angst angst angst angst

word count: 11.1k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

The lavender is the first to wilt.

It stares glumly at the kitchen counter. Posture hunched and drooping. You stand before it, clutching a jug of water like you’re starving the purple sprigs for information. Why did he lie to me why did he lie why would he lie to me tell me why.

The daisies look on, awkward and curious. Their petals streaked with green – still fresh and still at least trying to bloom. The news hasn’t reached their delicate stamens yet – they still have blind hope. But they’re drinking from the same rotten water their lilac neighbors are. They must know it’s futile.

You fill the vase up and fix the lace bow – the one you’d transferred from the brown paper wrap to the vase last night, after seeing Joel out. He stayed until nightfall, until the rest of your apartment faded into a pale gloom, forgotten about while the two of you watched TV and kept secrets from one another in your warm-lit bedroom.

When he leaned down and held his lips over yours, you pushed yourself onto your toes and kissed him goodbye. He ruffled your hair, clipped your bottom lip lovingly. Said, I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some sleep, pretty girl.

You lay staring at the ceiling the whole night.

He was out all day Saturday at a charity event. He called you as he arrived home – you heard the elevator’s ding through the receiver, announcing its arrival at his top-floor apartment. And you stayed on the phone, the thing discarded on your mattress, as sleep blurred the edges of the world in and out of focus all evening.

Three times you thought about just telling him to come back over, hold you until you forgot what he’d even done. Pretend that the man who, possessed by lies and jealousy or something much worse, had taken your wrist and swept you off out of Jean-Marc’s penthouse isn’t the same one who brought you tea and Chinese food yesterday. The one who held you, blood and broken wings safe in his arms, while you wept into his body.

Three times you stamped the flame out, remembering. As if you needed reminding. Your stomach still sinks anytime the reel jerks back to its beginning behind your eyes. The words unfortunately and unavailable. The rustling of the bag in the kitchen. The padding of his footsteps drawing nearer and nearer.

Your phone buzzes somewhere across the room. You set the jug down and shuffle over, tilting the screen in the morning light.

We’re outside baby. Take your time.

You haven’t mentioned it to him, yet. Haven’t breached the conversation. You’ve no fucking clue where to start. It hurts too much to look at it just yet – like scalding yourself with boiling water and clamping a wet towel to the burn until you can stomach the sight of your skin, all blistered and bubbling.

The towel is still covering the wound. You’re still frantically pacing around the kitchen clutching it, heavy and sopping. You’re not sure what it looks like, but from beneath the cold cloth, it doesn’t feel good.

It doesn’t feel good at all.

Joel’s leaning against the Rolls when you totter down your front steps. Fall plucks the leaves from the trees one by one; they swirl down to the smooth pavement, brown and amber and golden. You’re in a floral tea dress, which took you an obscene amount of time to decide on, given the cocktail of nerves and confusion and outright panic rolling around your stomach.

Your heel scuffs to a halt in front of him. He pushes off of the car and swings your door open, squints at you in the sunlight. You watch his eyes move down your frame, a misplaced desire to impress him dripping through your veins, and then he looks back up.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, and your veins sizzle. “You look…” he shakes his head simply, “…you’re beautiful.”

Your lips betray you. Your mind – that poor, dead lavender; your body – the poor, naïve daisies. Still has blind hope.

You can’t help but reflect his expression, attempting to mask it with a soft shrug. “Are the heels too much?” you ask, glancing down and lifting your foot.

Joel shakes his head instantly. “I like ‘em. And even if they were, we’re late. You ain’t got time to change.”

“You said you’d be here at twelve. It’s ten after.”

“I run a construction company, not a watchmakers. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. Unconvincingly.

“I mean,” he circles a hand over his stomach, lifts his eyebrows, “you feelin’ okay? We don’t have to go – Martha wouldn’t mind, you know that.”

“I’m fine,” you chirp, and your painted lips flatten against one another as you dip into the car. “Hi, Rand.”

The driver lowers his sunglasses and tips his head in the rear-view. “Hi, baby.”

Joel shimmies along the leather, shifting his jacket from between you to scoop your body against his. You glance down, eyeing his soft sweater, the light shade of it paired against that of your dress. The glint of his watch as his wrist slips happily between your legs, hooking under your thigh. The bloody crimson of the birthday card envelope, trembling in the door pocket.

The car pulls off, dragging you from your daydream. Stealing you back from the dystopia where you and Joel match, where you go together. A couple. Removing the notion of it from your makeup, each cell in your body slowly reverting back to yours again. Just yours. No CEO boss to stake his claim to any of them.

Martha’s place sits at the end of a cul-de-sac; neighbored on one side by a retired couple who spent their entire summer arguing in the backyard, according to Martha, and on the other by a row of quaint cypress.

The front door, bordered by polished mosaic squares of glass, sits inside one of four gable roofs. Dark green shutters either side of each stark-white window frame. A smooth path snaking between neatly-fringed grass, a hierarchy of tiny bushes growing greener and greener the closer they draw to the front steps.

Come in through the back, she’d said. Gate will be open. We’ll be in the yard.

Joel makes some quiet remark just to you about how perfect the house looks. The red brick and marengo tile. How much effort gone into polishing the front, only to tell you to use the back entry. ‘s only for looking, he decides, and then offers his hand to pull you from the Rolls.

He bends over the car, hand flat on the roof, and calls back to Rand. “Do me a favor – don’t go far. Just –” he jerks his head in your direction, “– just in case.”

When he straightens up and the car purrs off, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you whisper, and he hooks two fingers around the string of the giftbag, taking it from your grasp.

He replaces it with his hand, his huge palm against yours. “I know,” he mutters, glancing down the drive, “but it’s an excuse for when I get sick of Alan ‘n all his damn friends.”

“Henry,” you remind him.

He tosses you a half-second look, smirk scrawled on his lips. He knows.

She’s waiting for you by the French doors when you arrive – Martha. Glass of sparkling champagne in each hand. Your fingers slip free from Joel’s before you’ve even rounded the corner.

“Saw the car pull up,” she tells you, leaning to let Joel kiss her cheek. “Here,” she hands you a glass, then one to Joel, “and here.”

You sip at the bubbling drink, letting the sharp fizz assault your tongue. Letting the feeling wash down your throat, stinging and bitter. Joel seems to swallow his just fine.

He swings the bag in her direction, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Just a little somethin’ from the two of us.”

You frown, holding a hand up to shield your eyes from sunlight too faint to cause the stiffness of your face and the drawn string of your brows. Where is Deb? And her two sons? And their shared gift? Isn’t it totally platonic and professional after all, to sign something from you and Joel?

Martha’s hands clasp. She reaches gleefully for the bag, smiling at the striped pattern. “I got no idea where he is. Last I saw, they were all headin’ up to his room. Some zombie game on his PlayStation. He promises me they ain’t playin’ the R-rated version.”

“That’s alright,” Joel says, “I believe ‘im.” He leans closer, a weight apparent at the small of your back. It shocks like a surge of electricity up your spine, hurts like a sudden muscle spasm. And then it soothes the pain, his thumb rubbing delicately. “’s a nice place,” he tells Martha.

She feigns disbelief. “Well, thank you, Mr. Miller, C-E-O,” she sings, and then, cocking an eyebrow, “y’all want a tour?”

You both nod politely, following her towards the kitchen doors. Joel nods towards a table by the barbecue – an island amongst a sea of candy and pastries, chopped fruit and bowls of nuts: a two-tiered, sky-blue cake. The name Henry piped in red icing – the letters swirling much like a birthday card you once read in a house on Maple Street.

“Nice little cake for Alan,” Joel mutters, squeezing your waist.

A stolen laugh shudders from your lips; the two of you snicker together, and despite your best attempts to cover your grin with your champagne flute, Martha spots you.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, sidling back over.

“Martha,” you clear your throat, “would you do me a favor?”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Would you please tell Joel your son’s name?”

She looks at you blankly. Blinks between you and the man at your side, both staring back expectantly. But her stone-set expression begins to crack, the lines deepening around her mouth.

“As in,” you clarify, “his real name. Not Alan.”

She makes to reply when the swish-thud of a window opening interrupts, the prepubescent bellow of an almost-teen from overhead.

“Mom!” Henry calls, his dark head of curls and long, boyish arms dangling over the sill.

Martha glares up at him. “What have I told you about hangin’ from there” she yells, fists propped on her hips. “What is it?”

“Mike brought Blood Cry III; can we play it?”

She shakes her head indignantly. “I have told you – how many times? No!” She holds her hands out in apology to you and Joel, and then scuttles off into the kitchen. “Go explore,” she waves, “I trust ya!”

Joel wordlessly takes your hand, leading you in Martha’s wake through the kitchen to the living room: its navy walls and white paneling, bookshelves spanning the entire length of one wall, and a pale-brick fireplace centering two leather couches. Very pristine, very perfect. Very Martha.

You amble around, slowing in front of the mantelpiece above which a gallery of framed photos hangs. Henry as a toddler on a green trike; Martha’s stepdaughter and her kid; Alan on a golfing trip. Your eyes jump from plump cheeks to missing teeth, sunhats and Thanksgiving meals, until they land on a photo of Martha and Alan on their wedding day – her veil pinned neatly into a permed updo, her puffy-sleeved dress and the lemon bouquet spilling from her hands.

Joel’s shoulder brushes against your own, his eye journeying across the photos, too. “Ha,” he tosses a finger towards the wedding photo, “nineties Martha. Nice hair, huh?”

You smile, lazily swatting his arm. “She looks beautiful. They seem happy.”

Joel agrees. “Wonder what their first dance song was.”

“I bet it was something classy. Sinatra or something. Martha wouldn’t be breaking the marriage in to anything cheesy, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, spinning off towards the dining room. “You ever thought about what you’d pick?”

You hesitate, rounding the table on the opposite side. “Uh…no. Not really.”

“Not your thing? Marriage.”

You chance a glance at him over a vase of lilies in the center of the mahogany table. The smell twists towards you, leering as it coats your skin and your clothes and the back of your throat in a sickly film that makes your head spin. “I guess not. I’ve never – Not since…”

He nods. He knows. “That’s fair,” he says, hands finding his pockets. The idea of Blake – his name, his shaking hands, the tiny box in his suit pocket – the thought of those images flitting through Joel’s brain pinches the air from your lungs.

You watch the silhouette of him as it crosses over the bay window, looking out onto the trimmed grass and smooth asphalt street. Something cracks deep in your chest. Something begins to unbind.

“What would yours be?” you ask him, and he turns.

“Depends,” he shrugs, “on when I’m gettin’ married or not. Makes no difference to me.”

You bypass the point he’s making. Turn away from it like you would a shadow in the night. “If you were,” you insist, “what would you pick?”

He nears you, never breaking your stare. His confident matches your nervous, his steady gaze on your shy. “Somethin’ special to me ‘n her. An our song kinda thing.” And then, as he brushes deliberately by your shoulder to head for the stairs, “AC/DC or som’.”

Your heels stick like they did that night in the dive bar. Ears hurt with a ringing loud enough to blur the edges of your vision. Your skin feels the same hot – only, not from the crowded room you’re in, or the mix of alcohol and sweat and something akin to lust seeping through your pores.

You stare fixedly at the view from the bay window, the perfect little cul-de-sac with its perfectly smooth roads; perfect for kids learning to ride their first bikes, perfect for couples wandering arm in arm, perfect for angry fathers taking off in cars packed with belongings.

When you were a kid, buckled into the back of your dad’s car, you used to fight sleep to watch the moon race you home. Her white glow surviving being split over and over again by the trees you’d whip past. Your eyes would flit from hers to the windscreen, watching the road up ahead as it threatened to twist and turn. No matter how fast you thought your dad must be driving, no matter which direction he turned – every time you looked for her, there she’d be.

It makes sense now. The notion of staying. Occupying somewhere in space or in time, and forgetting how to leave. Forgetting how to try. Forever fixed there, glowing in a brilliant melancholy, singing to nobody in the dark expanse of the sky. Waiting for the sun to make her return. Just waiting waiting waiting.

You – the moon, and your sky – that fucking driveway. The Toyota, the rust on its underside so bitter you could taste it like blood on your tongue. Searching all over for the scraps of yourself, the pieces he tore away as he fled: veins tangled around spokes, severed fingers tinged crimson and hooked around the steering wheel. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.

And then, the sun – some sharp-suited, quick-witted Texan; enough charm and ease to lift himself over the horizon, to give you something other than the glimmer in your own tears to reflect.

The moon stares down at you now as you sit, perched on your balcony. Your knees tucked under your chin, watching two cats wrestle down on the street below. It’s just gone two; Joel’s in bed fast asleep. You slipped from his grasp and crept out of your room, a blanket over your shoulders, and disappeared between the sheer curtains. Your chest tight, your breathing short.

It keeps happening, that thing from Paris. Your head begins to spin, your voice withers to nothing. Your legs push you to your feet and force you to flee, though you’ve still to figure out where to or what from. All you know is that blue-eyed stare of your ex-fiancé has been wiped, replaced by the dusted beard of your boss instead. The plastic ring between his fingers. The creaking leather of his office chair.

Those same four words keep circling your head, replaying on a loop between your ears: why did he lie why did he lie why did he lie. Like white noise droning around your skull, bubbling nausea in the pit of your stomach. No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?

Why did you lie to me?

Why did he do any of it? Take you to Paris, let you meet his client. Why has he been sleeping with you, treating you like some kind of girlfriend? The word plucks goosepimples all over your body. His body around yours at Aspen Heights – what you wanted so badly to believe was endearment, was comfortability and generosity, now feels like territory-marking. Feels like the white-knuckled tightening of a leash in his wide fist.

The leaves of the trees across the street tremble, lit luminous green by the 7-Eleven sign they fringe. You watch as two men swagger out of the store; their chatter drowned by the buzzing of the fluorescent sign. They split off with a quick handshake at the curb, disappearing into two different cars, driving off in two different directions.

You sniff. Some skunky smell hangs low in the air. So thick that you can feel it coating your lungs from the inside out. You sink back into your chair, push your fingers into your eyes until you’re watching a mirage of stars pull across your vision. Blow a cracked, nervous breath into the sky. Slip your nose beneath the collar of your tee.

Joel’s tee, which pools in the dip between your stomach and thighs. You suck his scent in like one hit of some intoxicating drug, for every three hits of clean air. Just seeing you through. Pretending there’s no addiction there.

But fuck, if you’re not screwed. One half of you holding back on mentioning the email because – what the fuck do you even say? How do you begin to ask him about it? How do you approach the topic, without prefacing it with feelings you’re too afraid to admit even to yourself?

And the other half – for fear of what you might cause. What you might make him do. For the pure, cut-throat fear that he’ll become the third in a list of men to just – leave. To let you down, to let you go. Change between couch cushions. Wild flowers torn from the earth’s scalp.

Then, the fracturing realization that you don’t want him to go. That you’re used to him, now, in a way you never were with your dad or with Blake. Your dad – who would choose poker night over parents’ night. Who would choose a drink with his buddies over a movie with you and your mom.

Or Blake – who would schedule sex on the nights he figured he’d have enough energy to fuck you until at least he came, and would buy you chrysanthemums on your birthday even long after you’d told him you were pretty sure you were allergic.

And then there’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. Who turned up at your door less than thirty minutes after Martha told him you were sick. Who said in the car ride to her house earlier, Tell me your favorite flower.

Why? you asked.

Just so I know.

Joel – who has never asked anything more than you’ve chosen to tell him about your father, but whose face still screws into an angry grimace anytime he’s forced to think of him. Who reaches out to adjust the broken heart around your neck, slip the clip back to your nape without you asking Who offers you the last slice of pizza, and when you refuse, compromises by splitting it. Giving you the bigger half.

Joel – with whom sex feels like a form of communication: Here are all the things I don’t know how to say, yet. Yet yet yet. A conversation, each movement deliberate; each nip and lick and bite weighted with purpose and meaning. It lives under your nails, behind your teeth. Here – I don’t know what else to do with all this longing.

Joel – who has not only set every foot right, but has carved his own path through your heart. Explored the caves himself, a lonely lamp hanging from his fist as he carefully, gently, politely weaved his way through a jungle of valves and tissue, monsters and darkness, slowly winding his way to the center.

Joel. Who has never let you down. Until that fucking email.

A 7-Eleven employee, some scrawny kid with a mop of black hair and a polo hanging from his skeleton, drags a cloth in wide circles on the inside of the windows. He swipes his forehead along his wrist, thick tresses disturbed, and stares out at the empty street.

You blink twice, and a figure materializes at your balcony door.

“Baby?”

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah. Easy – ‘s just me.” The pale drapes surrender to his wide frame, letting him pass. “Sorry, pretty girl. You okay?”

“You scared the crap outta me.”

Joel bends before you, a sweet little chuckle in his throat, and presses a warm kiss to your forehead. You lift your chin, letting your eyes close over and your thoughts melt away on his lips. He pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“What are you doin’ out here at this time of night?”

You shrug as he settles into the wireframe chair opposite. Groans as he leans back. His wide chest constricted by a tight, gray hoodie splattered with paint.

“Just can’t sleep. Nice hoodie.”

His eyes dip to the mounds of your chest under plain cotton, the blanket slack around your breasts. “Someone stole my T-shirt. Stole somethin’ of hers back. Why can’t you sleep? You hurting?”

Yeah. “No. Just – not tired enough, I guess.”

“You want company?”

Not really. “Sure.”

He laces his fingers over his stomach as he settles back, studies you as your gaze skims the street below. He knows you’re lying. But it’s two a.m., and you’re weeks into an affair that you’re both pretty sure has gone past the point of no return, and so, voice plain, he asks, “What’s on your mind, angel?”

“How d’you know there’s something on my mind?”

“There’s always something on your mind. It’s you.” And then, readjusting in his seat, “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You scrunch your nose with a sniff. Pull your arms inside the sleeves of his shirt and cross them under your breasts. “Your dad,” you say, locking eyes with him.

Joel lets it hang for all of three seconds. “My dad?” His face curls into a perplexed smirk, jaw tilting. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable, or maybe you think he is, and you’re not sure which one scares you more.

You laugh, chest lightening disobediently. It felt more comfortable when you couldn’t breathe. “What he did,” you explain.

“What he did,” Joel repeats, lifting his chin. Like a dog, sniffing out the truth. Something concealed in your fist.

So you unfold your fingers, holding it out in the palm of your hand: “Do you think he would’ve done it, still, if he knew what would happen?”

And then he really shakes off the humor. Sits forward, elbows leaning on his bare thighs. “What’re you talkin’ about, pretty girl?”

“Like,” you sigh, “if he knew he would split his entire family in two. You and your mom cut him off; Tommy moved halfway across the country. Was it worth it?”

“To me, or to him?”

You shrug again. He’ll choose the one he wants to answer. You’ll figure him out either way.

“Look,” Joel says, and hooks his fingers under the seat of your chair to pull you closer. He takes your ankles and you stretch your legs out, heels propped in the boxer-clad valley between his legs. A deep breath, hazel eyes pointed upwards like searching the skies for the words, and then: “People want what they want, right? They’ll do whatever they think is necessary to get it. He wanted to cheat, so he did. And he paid the price.”

“He wanted to cheat?”

It seems obvious to him. As though people seek out ways to hurt the ones they’re supposed to love all the damn time. The silver glint of a Labrador’s teeth as he sinks them into his owner’s skin.

Joel nods. “Wanted it badly enough that he did anything.”

“Lied?” you offer.

“Lied, cheated, left. Yeah.”

“And he risked everything.”

His head tips in agreement. “I guess he did. He was a damn idiot, you know? Had a wife who loved him, had two kids. He had the whole world in that house, and he threw it all away.”

“And,” the soles of your feet rest gently on the curve of his stomach, “would that – would it stop you? If you at least knew you were riskin’ something?”

“From cheating?”

“Anything. If you knew what you were risking was everything to you – would it stop you doing what you really wanted?”

His face tightens, brows knit with confusion and something else more difficult to place. “It depends. I wouldn’t risk something like you. I would n–”

“Somethin’ like me?” you interject.

Joel clears his throat. Looks up to the pitch-black sky again. “You…” He sighs. His answer is simple, black-and-white. There’s no way to hide it anymore. “I wouldn’t risk you, no. Not for the world.”

You fall silent. The moon stares down, seeming to melt around you. Her light like two steady arms holding you together, nudging you to ask the last question – the one spiraling around your mind like circling a drain.

Joel squeezes your ankle. “Where are you goin’ with this, baby? Are you asking me if I would cheat on you?”

Your heart jumps. The moon scatters.

Does he fall into the category of people who could cheat on you? Two months ago, he was just your boss. Two months ago, you hadn’t touched him more than a slap after a witty comment, the brushing of fingers as you handed him his morning coffee. But now…now, you’ve kissed his lips to shut him up. You’ve felt him come inside you. You’ve set foot inside his childhood fucking home, for Christ’s sake.

He makes you feel as though your heart is made of glass, delicate and laid bare but safe in his hands. He makes you feel as though a part of you exists outside of your own body – like there’s a piece of your soul wandering the earth by itself, touching base every time his hands are on your hips, his teeth in your neck.

Yeah. Fuck – yeah. He’s someone who could cheat on you. The way that email made you feel – he’s someone who could break your heart.

“I know you wouldn’t cheat on anyone,” you say, voice breaking. “No, I just – I don’t know what counts as a good enough reason to hurt someone you’re supposed to…supposed to love.”

Joel sits back in his chair again, the frame creaking under the weight of him. He reckons he gets it, now. You reckon he’s still wrong. “Come here,” he says, fingers flicking.

“What?”

He leans forward, takes your waist in his hands and pulls you from your chair into his lap, curling you up between his thighs. Safe. Protected by the shell of his body, protected by everything except from the thing scaring you most: the quickening of his heartbeat when you settle against it.

Your head slots under the curve of his chin, his voice a deep rumble over your skull.

“Your dad,” his chest swells, “he did what he did because he wanted to do it. Wanted it badly enough that he gave up you and your mom. And there wasn’t nothin’ you or her could’ve done to stop him, or convince him otherwise. You hear me?”

You turn into his neck, letting your tears fall hidden from view of streetlight or moonlight. You feel fucking tiny – a kid again, sat in a grownup’s lap, asking a never-ending series of why questions. Then, why did he do it? Why did he leave? Why are you staying? Why did you lie to me?

Joel presses his lips to your head, shushing you quietly, his body rocking back and forth like a boat on light waves. When he hears you sniffling, he holds you closer. Tighter. Your heart melds to your chest wall, desperate to seek his out. The hoodie he’s wearing smells like you, smells like him, smells like the chemicals of paint and the poison of love.

“It wasn’t your fault, darlin’, none of it.”

His arm hooked over your bare knees, the cotton keeping you warm. The other around your back, keeping you whole. You unstick yourself from his embrace, pulling your body straight until you’re straddling his lap, face to face with him in the light.

He looks up at you, almost afraid to blink. Afraid to lose sight of you at all. Your thighs lean heavily against his, your bodies locked together. You link your arms over his shoulders, anchor yourself to him as though the storm in your mind might sweep you away. And in the glimmer of light in his eye, the dazzling bulb of a lighthouse – you see the reflection of yourself.

Joel notices the shift in your expression. Holds you by the hips, follows the turn of your head. “You okay?” he asks, and you look down, avoiding his eye.

Glowing brilliant and lonely, blinking slowly. Your towering silhouette and caged-glass top. Drawing ships nearer just to ward them off when they pull too close. When they begin to notice the jagged shape of your shoreline, the ugly mess of your soul. Casting a blinding light on them, warning them to flee. And he didn’t fucking listen.

He docked anyways. Drew up on the beach, pulled himself into your body time and time again. You kept moving, kept warning him with each flicker of light, kept daring him to leave. And he never did. And there are pieces of you now living in him because of it, pieces you don’t understand how to take back. All you know, all you’ve ever known about Joel, is –

Your body sinks, hips lowering until you’re sure you’ve proven yourself right.

A stubborn weight between his legs. Not quite as hard as you’ve felt him before, not quite as heavy, but – a shape which sends a hot hiss between his teeth when you move over it, when the thin strip of your underwear courses over the thin cloth of his.

“P-retty girl,” Joel says, a groan seeping from the corners of his lips. A groan he holds onto with his molars, letting it snap like elastic when your hips circle again.

A weight as stubborn as the need slowly swirling in your chest. And pulled up into the cyclone are those same words: It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t nothin’ you could’ve done to stop him. Why did you lie to me? It wasn’t your fault.

It hits you at once, the sudden realization that you’re lighter than you were before you first touched one another – really touched one another. Parts of you missing, passed over gladly the second his hand reached for them. The taste of you behind his lip, gums absorbing you like nicotine.

And you’re kissing him, your lips harsh against his, his stubble hurting your skin. Your tongue seeking out those parts of yourself. No. You don’t have me anymore. I’m taking me back.

“Hey,” Joel whispers into your mouth, steadying your hips. He pulls back and holds you still. “Why don’t we slow down? It’s late, you ain’t feeling too good –”

“I feel fine. I want to do it.” You lick again between his lips though he doesn’t budge; your attempts to move again, ineffective. “Joel.”

“It’s been a long day, you’re tired. Work in the mornin’, baby, I just don’t think we oughta –”

“You don’t wanna fuck me?”

He pauses, his tongue between his teeth. His brows pinch, almost painfully. “That is not what this is, ‘n you know it. I can see how tired you are – you ain’t even slept yet.”

“I don’t care. I want you to –”

His voice lifts to something you’ve only heard within the four walls of his office. Like chiding one of his guys, like snapping back at their red ties and crumpled collars. “I know what you want me to do. I just think we should go back to bed.”

“’n what if I don’t want to go back to bed?”

Joel sighs, looking out across the street. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t get what the problem is,” you complain, still holding onto his shoulders. “You’ve fucked me in public before.”

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Why don’t you go grab a sketchbook or something? Show me some of this artwork you been promisin’ since Paris?”

You blink back at him, watching the lighthouse swirl. The black waves begin to carry him off, sweep him from your view. “Maybe some other time,” you mumble, pushing yourself off of his lap.

Joel watches you, defeated. Keeps ahold of your hand when you stand between his knees. He swings your interlocked fingers gently. “Can you…can you tell me what’s wrong? Do you know?”

Your lungs pull in a deep breath, your shoulders rolling. “Same thing as always, I guess. Let’s just go back to bed.”

“Wait, pretty girl,” he tugs on your hand, reeling you back in, “waitwaitwait.” And then he’s standing, enclosing you in his arms again, asking, “What can I do to fix it?”

That same shrug. Tired. Deflated. Terrified. “If I only knew.”

You wait for Joel to move first, a sigh falling from his lips as he pulls the sheer curtains back, taking you by the hand and ushering you between. He follows your lead back into your apartment, sliding the door closed behind.

The living room is flattened by a gray silence, the liminal night swallowing up the air. Joel’s hand comes to rest at the nape of your neck, and when you turn to him, he says, “You wanna know if he thought it was worth it?”

You pause, fingers playing with the hem of his tee at your thighs.

He’s close enough that you can feel the heat near enough sizzling from his body. The right side of his face is shrouded in darkness; the chalky wash of streetlight painting the left. “My dad.”

You swallow hard, blinking in the shadow cast by his tall figure. The light clings wearily to his beard.

“She left him after two weeks. Went back to her husband. My dad died alone in an empty four-bed in Rosedale. You tell me.”

And then he pats the small of your back, takes you back through to bed – where you let him fall asleep on your chest, listening to make sure your fractured heart is still beating.

Joel Miller is in your shower. For the second time this weekend.

He’s not fucking you, not holding you against the rough tile wall as his cock draws come and blood and tears from your body. He’s not wrapping a towel around you, handing you a fresh tampon, kissing the parts of your skin still alight from your orgasm.

He’s just showering, before work. Using your peach-scented soap, pushing suds under his arms, over his stomach, between his legs. Lathering your shampoo like treacle between his palms, hair slick and foamy white between his fingers. Fixing the head so that his height fits under the stream of water, turning the knobs until it’s as hot as he likes it.

You’re lying across your bed, suffocating in the smell of his side and pretending none of it’s really happening. Face buried in his pillow, waiting for the intoxication to throw you under or wipe your mind clean or maybe just cut the air supply from your lungs completely. Whichever’s quickest.

The bathroom door opens; the sound of footsteps padding over to you. His weight sinks into the bed by your hip, then hovers over your back. His nose, still steamy and damp from the shower, nuzzles into the spot behind your ear. His lips leave a wet trail down your neck.

“You need another day?” Joel asks, kissing.

“I’m good,” the cotton absorbs the nervous edge of your voice, “just coming.”

“Stay home if you want, angel,” he says, hands roaming south to hold your waist. Like warning the pain, tempting it to show back up. See what he does about it. “I gotta go take this shareholders meeting, but I can come back as soon as it’s done.”

“Nah,” you groan, pushing your heavy frame up. Joel’s grip slackens. “I need the distraction, I think.”

He sits back, smiling dumbly when you straighten. His tongue runs along his teeth.

“You can use my toothbrush,” you mutter, heel of your palm wiping sleep from your eye.

“Hm?” He’s fixing the mess of your hair. Brushing one side flat, then the other; leaning back and forth with this dumb, half-there smile on his face. And your chest heaves, and you almost surrender to the impulse to throw yourself into his arms, almost lean into his cupped hands and burning caresses.

“I owe you. From Paris. You can use it, just this once.”

He scoffs. “I won’t use your toothbrush, darlin’. It’s alright.”

But you’re indignant. You already have every other part of me, don’t you? What’s one more? Just fucking –

“– use it. I swear I don’t mind.”

Joel’s head tilts, conceding. “Alright. Come get ready, then.”

Martha’s at her desk when the two of you wander back into the office. “Wait!” she calls, clicking around her desk as you pass by. She twirls a blue envelope between two glittery nails, holds it out to you.

Joel takes it, examining the childish scrawling of your names. “Nice, but – your calligraphy needs a little practice, Martha.”

“Hilarious,” she drones, sitting back against the desk.

You drift over to your own, dropping your back over the back of your chair, and shrug the coat from your shoulders.

Joel’s voice draws nearer as he speaks. “He have a good time?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Martha replies, and Joel sits the card from Henry by your monitor, “barely saw ‘im the entire day. Thanks for comin’. For his gift, too – y’all really…You ain’t gotta do that.”

“Was all my idea, wasn’t it?” Joel asks, smirking to you.

An airy laugh pushes from your chest, loose with nerves. “Som’ like that. Glad he had a nice birthday.”

Joel saunters back toward his office, hands in his pockets. Fucking casual, like the world isn’t crumbling beneath your feet. Like the walls aren’t closing in, the sky lowering by the hour, the sun being steadily eclipsed minute by minute. He nudges the door closed with his foot, leaving you, Martha, and an awkward mist of realization between you.

“Your idea,” she muses, once you’ve plucked up enough courage to face her again.

You pick up Henry’s card, staring at the smudged handwriting to mask the horror peeling its way across your face. “Thought it was easier that way, y’know?” You gulp. “Don’t make it into anythin’.”

She grunts, something shaped like Ha. Her arms cross over her body, her eyes flitting between Joel’s office and you. “I sure as hell don’t remember me ‘n Alan ever doing something like that before it meant anythin’.”

“What are you saying it means?” you ask, rhetorically, dryly – a little meaner than you want it to sound. “What’s…?”

Her plucked eyebrows lift, forehead creasing. “Nothing, sweet. I’m just saying – you two are close, now. It’s nice.”

“We were always close.”

She holds her finger up. “Uh, no. Not turn up at my son’s birthday party together, leave together, then turn up at work the next day also together close.” Her eyes narrow, and you almost believe she might’ve been hidden between the trees last night – hell, for a second, you believe she might’ve been that scrawny kid wiping down the windows of 7-Eleven.

“I’m just saying,” she continues, when your throat closes around your nothing answer, “if something’s happening, I’m rooting for it.”

It shoots from your jaw like a bullet. “Nothing’s happening.”

Martha’s just as quick. “Okay,” she says, sweet and light. Breezy.

And then she shuffles back to her chair, resumes focus on some email. Twists the dial on her radio and fill the tense silence in the office with some smooth seventies song which lifts the hairs on the back of your neck the same way it did in that Parisian hotel. The dark suite, his eyes black and seeking. His hands on your body like he knew every curve and dip already.

Didn’t you believe that he might? That his hands were sculpted to fit the space below your ribcage? The plush cushion of flesh above your hips. The hinge of your jaw between his fingers.

Didn’t you think, for one fleeting moment, that maybe he was made just for you? As if you were so fucking lucky. As if anyone might stick around long enough to earn that label. Yours.

You settle back into your chair. The bubble writing on the front of the card stares menacingly back at you, the shapes seeming to swell and shrink in size the longer you stare at them. A bad trip, you think, this whole thing is just a bad trip. I’m gonna sober up any second, and I’m gonna be in bed, still dizzy after that night at the bar.

And none of it’s gonna be real. It’s not fucking real.

But then – lying on the opposite side of your computer, delicate and tiny, sparkling in the sunlight from over your shoulder: your ring. Your ruby ring, two euros in a gumball machine by the Seine. Like it’s winking at you, the accent rhinestones a taunting smirk. And the sight of it slings a thin wire around your heart, tight tight tightens until you’re sure you feel the tissue slice in half.

You take the ring in two shaking fingers, eyes bleary with sleep and salt. Blinking the dispersed light away, red rays bleeding all over your vision as you tilt the plastic. Joel’s voice muffles against his office door, like fists echoing against the flimsy walls of your little daydream. Time’s up. Hand him back over. It’s not fucking real anymore.

You roll the prize back onto your desk, letting it scatter shards of ruby until it hits the keyboard, the rattle echoing around your ears as you pace over to his office door. Your knuckles drum once, twice, three times against the wood before he opens it, and then he’s –

Staring down at you, breath shallow between slack lips. And he reads it all over your face, the panic and the words swimming around the tears in your eyes, and he steps back, and you step forward, and then the door’s closing again, and you’re settling against the arm of his couch.

“Ken? Hey, Ken?” Joel strides back over to his desk, hastily reaching for the phone. The voice from the receiver doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. “Ken. Can I –? Jesus Christ.” He lifts the handset and drops it less than a second later, cutting Ken’s fucking droning, cutting the only sound in the room, cutting your blood short in your veins.

And then – “Alright. Talk to me.”

You don’t reply. He seems to tense up. Moves almost robotically over to you, lifts his hands to hold your shoulders. And when you lift yours to push him away, he almost flinches.

“Baby.”

Your jaw shakes once. You wrap your arms around yourself, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

“You’ve been actin’ off since yesterday,” he mutters, giving you some space. He’s moving slow, like he’s afraid you might lunge for him. “You gotta tell me. You’re scaring me, now.”

You haul your gaze from his open arms, his broad chest, the idea of letting him pull you in and calm you down. Your eyes land on his monitor. The text of that email flashes before you again. And your shell hardens.

“Is there anything you wanna tell me?” you ask, staring at the Apple logo. Your voice sounds timid, sounds so little that you swear you see Joel catch the words as though they’re made of glass.

His head tilts. His eyes narrow. It’s genuine confusion, you think. The penny hasn’t dropped yet. “…What?”

It pisses you off. Seems to shatter that glass into fifty angry shapes, brittle and sharp. The shards cut like a knife through the air between you. “Nothing you think I oughta know?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, baby, I don’t…”

Your glare finally lands directly on him. Piercing straight into his eyes. But your jaw locks shut around the words.

“What the hell are you about to accuse me of?” Joel asks, mirroring your stance. Pulling his arms over his chest, jaw tight. “Cheating on you?”

Your chest jumps with a tiny laugh. “Why would I accuse you of cheating on me?”

“Sure sounded like that’s what you were thinkin’ last night.”

“No. I don’t think you’re cheating on me.”

“Then what is it?”

The gun fires. Gates open. Thunder rumbles. A fire lights in your stomach, blazing through your entire body.

“When were you planning on telling me about Jean-Marc?”

He goes quiet. Still. Realizes exactly what you mean in almost an instant. “How did you…? Where did you –?”

“I saw the email. On Friday. Gave me your phone to look for Alan’s Twelfth fucking Birthday, didn’t you?”

His face drops; a broken sigh falls from his lips. He looks up to the ceiling, something of a disbelieving, disappointed, fucking dismayed laugh loose between his jaw. “I wasn’t,” he eventually concedes.

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

You can’t believe him. You actually can’t believe him. Fists balling to hold your nerve, to hold the tremble in your voice steady, you ask, “Why?”

Joel’s body twists, rolls like some awkward wave as he readjusts, searches the surrounding room for an explanation. “There’s – there are a number of reasons why.”

“Start with the first one.”

“Alright.” He grips the wooden desk either side of his hips. Meets your stare, and it’s almost fucking admirable, the bravery with which he’s walking into this. You don’t scare him at all, not yet, anyway. Not even in the midst of a standoff in his office – guns loaded, eyes never blinking.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then lifts his arm, waving his palm like he’s swatting the image of the Frenchman away. “He’s…He freaks me the hell out.”

“He freaks you out,” you repeat, voice flat. “Really, Joel? Big guy like you?”

You can’t help yourself. This is so fucking insane, it’s laughable. You’re like a snake shooting sharp shots at the ankles of a bear – and it’s too easy to take jabs when you’re still in disbelief at what’s fast turning out to be the truth.

“He’s sleazy, and inappropriate, and he doesn’t respect boundaries.” He counts them with three steady fingers. “Not mine, certainly not yours. I don’t like him, darlin’.”

“You like him enough to go have two meals with him in one weekend. Fly all the way to fuckin’ France for ‘im.”

“That was business. At least, the lunch was. The breakfast was a mistake.”

“What’s the second reason, Joel?”

He licks his lips. You can’t tell if it’s anxiety or anger. “You’re too good at your job. I didn’t wanna lose you.”

It’s simple enough. It’s more believable than six-foot-two Joel being afraid of five-foot-two Jean-Marc. You accept it a lot quicker.

“Any more?”

His expression drops. Yeah. There’s one more. And he doesn’t know how to say it.

“Joel.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Got that one.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Expression unmoving. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

You suck in a deep breath, chest wobbling as your lungs fill. The snake retreats from the bear, jaw slackening. Your eyes sting, Joel’s figure blurs a little, and then you rein it back in.

“I didn’t want you to go. That’s all,” he offers, plainly. “Just…wanted you to stay here. With me.”

“’n what if I wanted to leave?”

“Then…” Joel’s arms lift again, gesturing to nothing, “…then we’ll work something out.”

You lift your chin, some sick expression pushing your eyebrows up. “We’ll work something out?”

He nods.

“Who’s we?”

And it’s the first time you see him falter. The first time he has to catch himself. “You said it yourself,” he says, “you ‘n me. This.”

You shake your head. No no no no. Not this. Not now. The snake coils up, preparing to strike again. “What, us sleeping together?”

“That’s…What?”

“You don’t think there are plenty other women you could be sleeping with here, ‘n plenty other men I could be sleeping with over there? You really want me to stay here just so you got someone to fuck?”

Joel’s lips fall apart. His grip loosens on the desk. “That’s all this is to you?”

“Uh, yeah. Last time I checked.”

You don’t believe yourself. You know you don’t. You don’t believe a fucking word being tossed out of your mouth. You’re being an asshole, deliberately being a dick to him, and you can’t stop. There’s a wall being built at rapid pace, shutting him out. Shutting you in. Bricks made of angry words, each one separating you a little more, hiding you from his view.

And then his mouth closes. Lips form a thin line. Brows lower, blocking any of the light you’re so used to seeing from his eyes. Dark, cloudy, angry. “Got it,” he snaps. “Anything else?”

“Huh?”

“Do you need anything else? Or are you just in here to piss me off?”

You lift from the couch, arms loose, hitting your hips with a slap. “Fuck off, Joel.”

“Oh,” he nods, “right. Fuck off, yeah. Keep goin’, baby. Tire yourself out. ‘s all you’ve been doin’, ain’t it? All this time? All you’ve been using me for?”

Good. It’s good. You want him to argue back. You want him to hate you as much as you hate yourself right now. You want to see the bear’s claws; make all the hurt you’re dragging up through yourself, just to dish at him, worthwhile.

“You know what?”

“What?” he spits.

“I knew you were gonna do something like this, eventually. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

Joel follows suit, pushing himself off the desk in one motion, and then the pair of you are chest to chest, squaring up to one another atop his five-thousand-dollar rug. “You knew what?”

“Knew there was something about him. Knew you couldn’t stand him. And this is why, right? All ‘cause he wanted to hire me?”

He turns away and laughs, almost recognizable as the same laugh you could draw from him with a silly look on your face – except sharper, colder. “Not even close,” he says, reeling back in. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you? The way he talked to you? About you?”

“Of course I saw it, Joel, I’m not fucking stupid.”

“Then use your good sense ‘n catch up, baby. You’re right: you’re not fuckin’ stupid. You were like fresh meat to him, and what? You reckon I should’ve let him just – sink his teeth deeper? Really?”

It lights something in the back of your mind; a memory flickers to life. Loops like a static radio message through your ears. “Right,” you nod, “right. Because you don’t like other people’s hands on things that belong to you, do you?”

His head jerks back, face warped with confusion and…disgust. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” he demands, voice muscled with anger.

“Martha said it once. You don’t like people playing with your toys, or whatever.”

And that seems to hit him low in the stomach. Seems to knock the wind from him.

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, and you swear his breath cuts in his throat. “That’s what you think?”

No, you think, it’s not. You know him better than that. But admitting that you know him better than to use you as some little plaything – something he had any control over, some accessory to wear on his arm – would mean admitting that the problem lies elsewhere. Lies with you.

And that’s not something you’re prepared to do right now, either.

Maybe before you found that email. Before you found out he’d been keeping you on some invisible leash. Maybe when he had you in his arms, kissing you so soft you thought you might die right then and not even notice.

Maybe when he looked at you, twirling chopsticks clumsily in his fingers, face lighting in a grin when you giggled at him – and three words floated through your head. Dared to dance over the tip of your tongue before you caught them and hissed, What the fuck are you doing here?

But – no. It’s all fucked up now. And you can’t break the tightness in your jaw to admit any different.

“You don’t think there’s a chance I actually care about you? That I – Jesus, that I respect you? Are you this goddamn hellbent on convincing yourself that everyone’s out to hurt you?”

“Joel,” your voice says, and it’s not you controlling it. Some gravely, pained thing. A shriveled part of yourself, cowering from the light. You’re recoiling, physically backing up from him.

“Darlin’, I can’t –” He reaches for your wrist.

You whip it away. “Stop.”

“I am trying to understand you,” he pleads. “I’m tryin’ to figure you out. Why won’t you let me –?”

“I don’t want you to.”

A laugh ejects from his throat and plummets straight to the floor. “Yes, you do,” he says. “You don’t do everything we’ve done unless you’re in it.”

“In it?” you seethe. “In what? What are we in?” You pinch your fingers: air quotations around the words, or possible claws digging four more wounds into the same chest you wept into last night.

Your head shakes rapidly as you speak. “We were just sleeping together. We were just having sex. That’s all. We were just having sex,” you repeat under your breath.

“I wasn’t,” Joel says. Matter-of-fact. Like reading from a contract. He takes a deep breath, and then repeats, “I wasn’t.”

The words splinter painfully from your tongue. “Well, I was.”

And though your eyes are pinned to the buttons of his shirt, though his expression sits just too north for you to see the way his face pulls – you notice his head lift. Know that there are creases digging between his brows at the same rate cracks appear across his heart. You feel the warmth of his gaze slowly cooling. Freezing over.

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding a shaky palm out. The fear begins to sink in, plunging through ice water. He’s beginning to bargain. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve, I should’ve told you ev–”

Your body moves as the words ricochet, refusing to let him finish his plea. “Glad we got that cleared up, Joel,” you say, near-leaping for the door.

But he’s faster. He steps in front of you, blocking your exit path. “Please hear me out. Please listen to me.”

Your body writhes under his gaze, twists like some little creature under a microscope. He waits for your go ahead before he continues. You toss your head, acquiescing.

“I just – I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t sleep at night thinkin’, what if you went for it? What if he managed to swindle you into taking him on? I wanted to get you the hell outta that penthouse the second he laid eyes on you.”

“So why take me in the first place?”

Joel scoffs. “I ain’t in control of you, baby! You had to figure him out on your own – and I thought you had. Christ, one minute you want me to step back ‘n let you make up your own mind, next you’re askin’ me why I took you somewhere? The hell am I supposed to do here?”

Read my mind. Don’t let him near me. Don’t let me go.

And at the same time –

Mind your fucking business. Let me make my own decisions. Keep your hands off me.

The truth is: you want him to go back in time. Take you back with him. Never touch you, never look at you any more than to ask for a coffee, or thank you for fixing up his office. Never make your heart skip that first beat, never set your skin on fire with that look in his eyes.

You want him to go back in time, and undo every knot he ever tied in your body. Let go of every string of your heart he has his fist around, every nerve which undoubtedly belongs to him, now.

Undo it all, so you might have a half-decent reason to hate him.

In the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, echoing around the caves you were always too frightened to explore yourself – you want him to tell you why he kept it from you. The real reason. And you want him to grab your wrist and pull you back into the room, back into his arms, when you inevitably flee at the sound of his reasoning.

Because you fucking know why he didn’t tell you. It’s scrawled on his face right now. And even though Jean-Marc is all of those things – sleazy, inappropriate, a scumbag in thousand-euro moccasins – that only makes up for part of the reason.

There’s a bigger piece to the puzzle, and you both know what it is, only neither of you will turn to face it. You’re simply cast in its shadow, playing blind chess under the silhouette of something you both refuse to acknowledge.

“You’re supposed to be my boss, and nothing else.”

He just stares at you. As if he’s waiting for you to say, Kidding! and laugh. As if he’s waiting for what you really mean to shove what you just said out of the way and tell the truth. It hurts all the more.

After a few seconds of awful silence, his breath falls from his lips in the form of a sigh, staggered with a laugh of disbelief. “I don’t…I don’t get it.”

But you’re tired now. You feel drained. You’ve less fight, energy gone to waste before you could make it to the real contest. Kicking his door down and yelling at him over Jean-Marc was the pregame show.

“What don’t you get?” you whisper, slumping back against the arm of the couch.

His answer terrifies you more than anything.

“You.”

You sigh, eyes falling closed in time with the drop of your head. Your breathing labored, your heart pounding. Fear. Adrenaline. Anger. Fear. Fear. Fear.

“You never let me in, did you? All that stuff you told me – your dad, your ex – like you want me to know. Like you’re lookin’ for me to do somethin’ about it. And then when I try, you slam the door closed again.”

“I don’t…I don’t want you to do anything about any of it,” you cry, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

Lie number one.

“Then what do you want? Tell me, pretty girl, ‘cause I’m – I’m at a loss here.”

“I want you to – fuck, Joel, why can’t you just –? I want you to back off.”

Two.

“I can’t,” he whispers, leaning closer. “’s the thing. I care ab– I lo– I…”

He rubs his eyes with his palms. Maybe his head hurts as bad as yours does. Maybe the office is becoming too bright for him to look, too.

“You think you’re broken,” he mumbles, “you think all that stuff makes you – I don’t know, what is it? Unlovable?”

There’s a spotlight creeping over you – bright white and burning. Lighting every inch of you up, every dark shadow uncovered. The monsters and the phantoms and the six, eight, twelve-legged beasts scuttling off in search of refuge.

Jeers and cackles from an audience behind him as he cranes the neck of the lamp and positions it right on you.

“Don’t –”

“…Worth nothin’? I don’t know, angel, but I can’t do anything about it if you won’t let me, and –”

“Joel –”

He’s not listening. He never fucking listens. He’s still going on, but your ears are ringing, and your vision is whitening, and your chest is constricting, and your throat is dry and your lungs are closing and your skin is hurting and your –

“What the fuck did you even expect?” you hiss, before your brain catches the words.

Joel halts. He finally stops talking. The room finally dims again. You can hear cars on the street. Your phone is ringing at your desk.

You repeat your question, quieter. Heavier. “What did you want from me?”

He’s frozen. Looks concerned. Looks…afraid of you. “I never wanted anything from you,” he says.

“No? Sure sounds like you wanted something.”

He doesn’t say a word. It gives you time, you think – time you know you should put into backing up, thinking it through, not saying it. But you don’t do any of those things. You fucking say it anyway, don’t you? You are your father’s daughter. The anger is woven into your skin, ivy around your bones. The fire behind your eyes isn’t love, or passion, or determination.

It’s rage.

“Is this what you did to Avery? This why you didn’t wanna marry her?” And then, steeling yourself, gritting your teeth: “What secrets were you keeping from her, Joel?”

He still doesn’t bite. Avery’s not the sore spot, and you know it. There’s a different weakness to him, now. Newer. She’s stood right in front of him.

“I mean,” you scoff, incredulous, “what did you think – that we were gonna end up married or something? AC/DC first dance? Big wedding in Italy, three kids and a fucking prenup to save your ass ‘n your millions?”

You swear you hear the crash from here. The bear hitting the ground, or the door of the Toyota slamming shut, or Joel’s heart falling apart, maybe. He gathers it up, sweeping it into his hands with what little dignity you’ve left him with, straightens, and –

He’s angry. Looks it, sounds it. Feels it. A way you’ve never seen him before – not directed at you, anyway. Accounting, when they fuck up the budget for the year. Jean-Marc, when he flirts with you too much. Never you. He’s never this mad at you.

Like kids in a playground, coming up with the worst, most poisonous insults to throw at one another – your words swing fast, and he only just manages to swerve them, hitting straight back with a punch made up of his own.

“Naw, you’d probably say yes to my face ‘n then break it off two days later, wouldn’t you?”

It’s low. It stings. Shocks the life back into you, once it’s looped twice around your ears.

Joel knows it. Sees the glint in your eye before you have the chance to clear away the tears. Hears the tiny gasp that escapes your lips. The bear just stepped right on top of the snake.

“Fuck,” he says instantly. As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, he’s undoing it. “That wasn’t – I didn’t mean…” He’s stepping forward, trying to wrap his hand around your arm. “Baby, I’m so sorry –”

Your wrist slips from his grasp. “Don’t – don’t touch me. Don’t.”

“Hey,” he says, almost cooing, almost trying to fan the burn with light breaths, “look at me. Please look at me. I did not mean that, alright? I was just –”

You shake your head, staring off past him. “It’s fine, Joel. No, I knew exactly what you meant.”

He staggers backwards, running his hands through his hair; almost growling into his palms when he drags them down his cheeks. “Darlin’,” he says, and leans in again. He speaks slow and seriously. “I would give you anything. There is not a thing in this world that I wouldn’t do for you. I would do anything. In the whole damn world. This is – It’s not –”

“Anything?” you ask, your stone-set gaze refusing to meet his.

He mirrors your curious expression, his own brows lifting. He can’t believe you’re even asking him. “Yes. Anything. I care about you more than anyone in the fucking world.”

He probably says more to convince you. Probably promises a load of stuff, apologizes a couple more times. Probably says sentences that would lodge themselves between your vertebrae and paralyze you with fear, if your hearing weren’t muffled and your mind elsewhere.

Your shoulders tighten. Jaw ticks. When you pull your eyes to finally meet his, you nod. “Alright,” you interrupt, pursing your lips, “okay.”

“Okay?”

Another nod. Yeah. You’re about to do this. Father’s daughter aren’t you just your father’s daughter always running out always running off –

“This is over. It’s done. You don’t look at me, you don’t touch me, you don’t talk to me unless it’s somethin’ in your job description or mine. Hell, even then – see if Martha can do it before you ask me. We’re done.”

It wipes him clean. Every thought, every desire, every motivation – gone. Dissolved, by the venom seeping from your fangs. No more bear. He stares back at you, eyes glossy, lips trembling. He flattens them against one another, steadies himself. Angry, upset, fucking – heartbroken.

“Is that what you want?” he asks. His voice breaks. It sends a blade through your chest.

You hesitate. Your eyes are searing. Between your tears and the nauseating tilt of the room, you can barely see him.

The third lie rolls from your tongue like a marble.

“Yeah. It’s what I want.”

And you know it, better than anyone: you’re lying through your fucking teeth. The way you have been this entire conversation. Pasting over wounds and scars, bricks laid over sodden sand foundations. But you’re petrified – stood on your own, fighting your own corner. The only person who ever managed to make you feel safe, calm you down, lower your gloves for you – now stood opposite with his fists up, too.

Joel nods. Anything in the whole damn world.

“Fine,” he says, eventually. “Fine. We’re done.”

[starkwlkr]

omg can you write charles reaction to baby leclerc first kindergarten boyfriend and how jealous he would be 🥹🥹

no boys allowed | charles leclerc

in honor of my birthday, here’s one more baby leclerc fic <3

Ruby woke up ten minutes earlier than she should’ve. It was a new school day and she was more excited than ever. While her mom slept peacefully, Ruby was in her bathroom trying to untangle her hair, but each time she would end up with a knot in it. She gave up and ran to her mom and dad’s room with a brush stuck in her hair.

“Mama, I need help. Mama, wake up.” Ruby poked Y/n’s cheek repeatedly until her eyes fluttered open.

“Baby, what? What’s wrong?” Y/n rubbed her tired eyes. She then saw the mess on Ruby’s head. “Oh, baby girl.”

Y/n was alone with the kids since Charles was coming back from Italy for his home race. Mathéo slept in his nursery. Y/n got out of bed and took Ruby to her bathroom to fix the tangled hair.

“Why did you do this, Ruby?” The mother asked.

“Because I want to look pretty for my boyfriend!”

Y/n choked on her own saliva when she heard Ruby mention the word ‘boyfriend’. “When did this happen, Rubes? Does papa know?”

Of course Charles didn’t know. If he did, he would immediately change Ruby to a different school. Even if it was a pretend boyfriend, Ruby was still too young to be thinking about boys in his eyes. Thank god Charles wasn’t home.

“Yesterday he told me he loves me. Papa doesn’t know . . Yet! Can I tell him?” Ruby jumped up and down, eager to tell her papa about her love life.

“Not right now, baby. He’s working. But you can tell me all about him. What’s his name?” Y/n asked as she continued to brush through Ruby’s hair.

“His name is Ben and we’re getting married! Can you be my flower girl, mama? And uncle arthur can give us a ring.” Ruby said. “I want uncle pierre and kika to be at my wedding. I love Kika.”

Y/n chuckled. Ruby reminded Y/n of a younger version of herself, planning out her dream wedding, not having a single stressful moment. Y/n wished her Ruby would stay little forever.

“Okay, all done. Go get dressed, I have to get your brother ready.” Y/n pressed a kiss to the top of Ruby’s head and watched as the little girl ran off to her room. Before Y/n walked to Mathéo’s nursery, she grabbed her phone and texted Charles.

Y/n

Good morning my love. I’m going to take Ruby to school and when you get home, I have news to tell you. It’s important.

Charles

Good morning mon amour❤️ tell Ruby I love her and I miss her. Are you not going to give me a hint? I can’t wait that long

Y/n

Well it’s about our daughter. That’s all I’m telling you.

Charles

You’re an evil woman

I love you ❤️

Y/n

Love you more 🥰

She left her phone on her nightstand and walked to Mathéo’s room where he was not laying awake staring at the ceiling. “Good morning my little boy. Let’s get you ready for the day.”

After both kids were dressed, the Leclerc family was on their way to school. Ruby kept telling her mother about Ben and how good he was at drawing, counting from 1 to 100 and apparently he knew about f1 because of his dad. The school wasn’t that far away from their home so they walked.

“When is papa coming home?” Ruby asked.

“He should be here tomorrow or maybe even today.” Replied Y/n. Mathéo squealed from his spot in his stroller. “You’re exiting to see papa, Théo? He misses you too.”

“I can tell him about Ben! Can Ben come to the race with us? Please mama!” Ruby stopped walking to face her mother.

“I don’t know, Ruby. We have to talk to his parents first.”

When Ruby got to school, she refused to set foot into the classroom until Ben arrived. Five minutes later, a little boy with a Ferrari cap on ran towards Ruby and hugged her.

“Ben! Don’t run! You’ve tripped enough already!” A woman about Y/n’s age scolded the boy.

“Mama! He’s Ben, my boyfriend!” Ruby yelled as Ben put his arm around her shoulder.

“Nice to meet you Ben. I’m Ruby’s mom.” Y/n said to the little boy.

“So I guess we’re in laws?” Ben’s mom laughed. “I’m Clara, Ben’s mom. I’ve heard so many things about your little girl. Were you invited to their ‘wedding’?” Clara asked.

Y/n nodded. “You’re looking at the flower girl.” She joked.

“I’m jealous, Ben told me I have to pay for the whole thing!”

After school, Pascale, Lorenzo and Arthur would always arrive at Y/n and Charles’ house just to spend time together. Ruby absolutely loved it. This time, Charles joined since he had taken an early flight from Italy so when he got home, he found Ruby and Arthur doing some crafts on the kitchen table while Pascale, Y/n and Lorenzo were with Baby Mathéo in the living room.

“Papa!” Ruby threw her crayon on the table and ran to Charles.

Charles let his suitcase fall to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Ruby and picked her up, spinning her a couple time as she laughed. “You didn’t cause any trouble, did you?” He kissed her cheek.

“No! I’m a very good girl. Ask mama and Théo!” Ruby giggled.

“Okay, I’ll ask them right now.” Charles set her down and turned his attention to the rest of his family. “How was my boy while I was gone? Was Ruby good?” He sat next to Y/n on the sofa.

“He didn’t cry at night often, but he did miss his papa a lot.” Y/n passed the baby to Charles. “And yes, she was an angel.”

“Just him and Ruby missed me?” Charles teased.

“I missed you!” Arthur spoke from the kitchen table.

“Anyone else missed me? Anybody?” Charles looked around, ignoring Arthur. “I’m kidding, I missed all of you.”

“Oh! The news! Ruby, want to tell papa now?” Y/n prepared herself for Charles’ reaction. Everyone did.

“What news, Ruby?”

“I have a boyfriend!”

“Mon amour, grab Théo please.”

Y/n took the baby from Charles’ arms and watched his confused face.

“Baby, you can’t have a boyfriend.” Charles said to Ruby. “You’re too young and he is too.”

“But I already made him a card! Uncle Arthur is helping me!” Ruby pointed at Arthur, who immediately dropped the marker from his hands and froze.

“Arthur! Why are you helping my daughter make a card for a boy?!”

“She didn’t tell me it was for her boyfriend.” Arthur defended himself.

“Yes I did. I said ‘uncle arthur can you help me make a card for my boyfriend?’ and you said yes.” Ruby innocently said.

“I thought she was joking.”

Charles shook his head. He knew it wasn’t a real relationship but he still didn’t like the idea of his little girl already thinking about boys and relationships.

“And you haven’t even heard the best part yet. They’re getting married.” Lorenzo added followed by a loud laugh.

“No one is getting married!” Charles announced.

“So you and mama aren’t getting married?” Ruby asked.

“We are married, baby.” Y/n said confused.

“But Ben’s parents got married two times. He told me.”

“So his name is Ben. Where does he live?” Charles asked and before Ruby could answer, Pascale hit his arm. “Maman! This Ben can’t date my daughter!”

“They’re kids, Charles.” Pascale said, bringing in her granddaughter for a hug.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a girlfriend when you were a little kid?” Y/n asked Charles. Not that he could remember, no he never did that.

“And you had a boyfriend when you were little?” Charles rolled his eyes, and watched Y/n stay silent. “No, someone was your boyfriend before me?!”

“This isn’t about me, now excuse me I have to practice my flower girl skills before the big wedding.”

[callumsturn]

Longing

Summary: Bucky is feeling down, and you're the only one who can bring him back to himself. Warnings: smut (18+, minors don't interact), fingering. Notes: Let me know if you'd like me to write any specific scenarios or stories :) reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Major John Bucky Egan was devastated. The news of Buck not returning from his last mission spread quickly at the base camp. You saw people try to talk to him and cheer him up in their own way, but Bucky was drenched in alcohol most of the time and with huge dark bags under his eyes. You decided it was your turn to try and bring his hopes up. Couldn't hurt.

You knocked on his door, calling out his name from the outside.

Bucky lifted his head from where he sat at the table, looking up at you with slightly bleary eyes. He cleared his throat as he pulled himself together, trying to sober up in mere seconds. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice gruff. You peered inside his room.

You knew he would brush you off if you asked if he was okay. Instead, you made him believe you needed him. "Do you mind if I come in and stay with you for a little? I can't sleep."

Bucky paused for a moment, seeming just tired enough to fall for your trick. He shifted slightly in his seat, nodding slowly as he sat up. "Yeah. Yeah, come here." he pointed to his bed. "Sit with me."

"Thanks." you spoke as you closed the door behind you and sat next to him.

Bucky watched wordlessly as you sat down next to him, leaning forward and resing his elbows on his knees. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "You said you couldn't sleep?" he questioned, tilting his head slightly so he could look at you.

You nodded. "Yeah... I had coffee, more than one cup."

He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, that'll do it to ya. Caffeine's a cruel mistress like that."

"Well, I wanted some. So I had it."

"And now you have to suffer the consequences." he mused along, taking a few moments to look you over. "You look tired." he pointed out, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Thanks." you chuckled.

Bucky smirked ever so slightly, rolling his eyes. "You know what I mean. You look exhausted. When was the last time you got a full night of sleep?"

You looked at him for a second before answering. "It's been a while, actually. The infirmary's been a complete chaos lately."

His expression softened, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "When's the last time you clocked off?" he asked, a hint of protective tone in his voice.

You looked at him for a while. "It's been a couple of weeks, but it's alright, we're short on staff! And it's not like I haven't done it before!"

That answer didn't seem to appease Bucky at all. His lips pressed into a firm, unamused line and he fixe you with a stern look. "Bullshit. It's not alright. You're runnin' yourself into the ground. How many hours did you work this week?" he inquried.

"I'm not exactly counting."

Bucky sighed in frustration, shaking his head. "Of course you're not." He paused for a moment, studying you. You could almost see the gears turning as he thought about what to say next. "When's the last time you ate?" he finally questioned.

"C'mon John, I'm eating alright." you insisted.

The Major shot you a doubtful look, his expression serious. "I'm being serious. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks. When's the last time you ate a full meal?"

"Maybe you can eat lunch with me tomorrow."

"I'm not asking that." he said with a sigh, his voice just barely above a whisper. "I want to know when the last time you ate a full goddamn meal was. Tell me the truth."

You looked at the door. "Yesterday, I think."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your response. "Yesterday?" he repeated. "You think?"

"Bucky, I'm alright. I'm just really tired."

His irritation grew tenfold at this, his patience at an all-time low. "You ain't alright, you're being reckless." he retorted gruffly. "Look at you, you look like a damn zombie. 'I'm just tired' my ass."

You let the room fall silent for a few seconds. "And how are you?" you finally decided to ask.

Bucky almost froze at the question. He was a mess, even he could see that for himself. For a moment, he thought about brushing off your question. Giving the standard, generic answer. But he couldn't. He knew how he was, and you deserved the truth more than anything. "Like garbage." he finally admitted, quietly after a few moments.

"I'm worried about you Bucky." you began. "You barely come by the infirmary anymore."

He lokoed down, docusing his eyes on his hands as you spoke. "I've been busy." he mumbled half heartedly, knowing damn well it was a blatant lie.

"Too busy to visit me?" you simply asked.

Bucky internally winced at that, his heart aching. "No." he said, his voice cracking slightly from guilt. "I- I just... it's hard, y'know?"

You nodded. "I get it. I can go by just fine without your visits." you tried to win him over with humor.

It seemed to work, even just slightly. He lifted his head, looking at you with a tired hino of playful sarcasmo in his eyes. "Is that so?" he questioned, a soft smile on his face.

"Oh I'm sure of it. It's been real peaceful without you pestering me at work."

He huffed, a soft chuckled escaping his lips. "That's rich, coming from you. You're always bugging me." he pointed out, shifting in his seat to get a different angle of you.

"But that you love."

"You're making that up." Bucky denied, though his smirk didn't falter. He tried so hard to ignore the flutter in his heart he got as he looked at you - his gaze almost involuntarily flicking down for a moment to your lips.

"I don't think I am." you smiled at him.

He paused, his heart giving another flutter as he saw you smile. It'd been a while since he'd seen that smile. He chuckled softly, shaling his head and running his hand through his hair. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Your expression of surprise came quickly to your face. After a few seconds in silence you spoke again. "You're drunk." You chuckled at him.

Bucky let out another soft huff at that, but he didn't deny it. "Maybe a little." he admitted, that smirk on his face returning. "And what about it?"

"You're not making sense, that's what."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that, looking at you with an amused expression. "And what about it doesn't make sense?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "I said you drive me crase. You do."

"Bucky..." you started but he interrupted you as he got closer to you, before grabbing your hand gently.

His calloused hand wrapping around yours like it belonged there. He was quiet for a moment, looking at you with a mixture of affection and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. He almost looked a little nervous.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

Another loaded question.

He opened his mouth to answer but stopped himself. His gaze falls from your face down to his hand holding yours. Bucky was quiet for a few more moments, his grip on your hand almost imperceptibly tighter. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the words stuck in his throat. He took a shaky breath, lifting his gaze back up to your face. "No. " he finally said, shaking his head slightly as he did. "I'm not okay." His expression serious. "But you make it hurt a little less."

Bucky's eyes flicked back and forth, analising your features. He sighed softly, his guard completely down. "Look at me." he softly insisted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You did as he asked, first his eyes and then his lips. God, he was handsome, specially under the dim lights of his room.

"You have no idea," he said, his voice low, "how hard it was to stay away from you the past few weeks."

His hand kept around your own as he spoke. He could be so gentle if he wanted to. Bucky softly tun his thumb in small circles against the back of your hand, trying to focus on that instead of the growing urge within himself. "I missed you so damn much." he murmered, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You cut him off by closing the gap between your lips.

He let out a soft, almost involuntary sound as he returned the kiss, his free hand moving to cup your face. His hand fently tugged you closer, as if he was afraid you'd pull away.

In turn, you grabbed his uniform's shirt tight between your fingers, pulling him closer to you.

Any thoughts of restraint or resistance melted out of Bucky's brain the moment he felt you grab him. His hand moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you into his lap. "God, I missed you." he mumbled against your lips.

You didn't respond, just climbed on his lap and grabbed the nape of his neck with both your hands, never breaking the kiss you two shared.

Bucky let out another soft sound as you did. His hands sliding to your hips, the feeling of your body against his nearly overwhelming. He kissed you passionately, his tongue gently running along your bottom lip as if he was pleading for more.

He broke your kiss only to kiss your neck, your head rolled back as he catched it with one of his hands.

Bucky's kisses gently yet firm, as he moved along your skin. He could hear the sound of your breath catching in yout throat, his brain nearly short-circuiting from yout little sounds of pleasure.

One of his hands found its way under your dhirt, his fingers tracing along the warm skin of your back.

His hands were rough on your back, but you didn't mind it.

Bucky's lips returned to yours, his kisses a bit more desperate now. He wanted to be closer to you, to have your body against his. One of his hands slid up your body, gently resting against your ribcage. His thumb lightly teased against the underside of your breast.

His touch sent shivers through your whole body.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his chest heaving with want. "You're so damn Beautiful." he murmured, his hand gently gripping your hip as he kept you against him.

You moaned quietly at his words, the way he was holding you down on his lap by your hips was making you dizzy.

He noticed your reaction, the soft sounds of your monas driving him wild. He used his grip on your hip to push you down to grind against him slightly, a soft smirk on his face. "You like that?" he asked, his voice gruff.

You nodded out of desperation.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, rolling his hips against you to give you a but more friction. "You can't even speak, huh?" he taunted you lightly.

"I can speak." you managed to say quietly.

"Then try sayin' something." he mumbled against the skin of your neck, continuing to push his hips against you ever so slightly.

"Your hands." you pleaded him.

You heard his groan, his grip on your hips tightening as he took in your request. "What about my hands?" he mumbled, his lips moving down from your neck to your collarbone.

You let go of his neck to grab his right hand and position it near your core.

He could feel the heat practically radiating from you, the thought alone nearly sending him over the edge. His fingers gently traced along the edge of your pants, as if he was silently asking you for permission to continue. You gave it to him.

Bucky wasted no time. He was a man of action after all.

He pushed your pants to the Side, his fingertips ghosting along your soaked core. He let out another soft moan against your skin, the feeling of you driving him crazy. "You're so wet, darling." he mumbled as he started to rub small circles, moving slowly to work you up even more.

Your reactions, the little sounds you were making, the way you were grinding against his hand - it was almost too much for him to handle. His fingers teased at your entrance, occasionally slipping inside to drive you absolutely crazy. "I could listen to you all night." he mumbled, his voice low and rough with want.

"John" you trailed off.

Bucky lifted his head from your neck to look at you, his fingers still working at you. "Yeah?" he breathed out, doing his damned bect to keep some control of himself.

"I need you."

Bucky practically groaned at the sound of your voice, the want in your tone nearly making his head spin with a primal need to bury himself inside you. "Say it again." he told you breathlessly, adding a second finger inside you.

You only managed to moan louder.

"God you sound perfect." his lips just below your car. "I need you so bad it hurts."

"Please" you whined quietly.

"You don't ever have to ask me please." his voice sincere.

He lifted his head to look at you, his breathing ragged. His fingers curling slightly on their own, making you let out another delicious sound.

"Make me come." the words come out of your tired mouth.

He moved his fingers faster, adding a third, knowing exactly what to do based on the sounds you were making. "I'll take care of you. "he assured you. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

And he did. In a matter of seconds, you were coming undone on top of his lap.

Bucky watched intently as you came, his fingers working you through it. He then gently removed his hand, bringin it to his mouth and licking his fingers clean with a low moan.

His free hand moved to gently brush the hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek as he looked at you with affection and desire.

You looked down at him after that. "What is it?"

Bucky chuckled, gently lifting your chin for you to look at him. "You look so damn beautiful when you're all flushed like this." he told you, a hino of pride in his voice as he added, "I did that."

"Yes you did." you chuckled quietly.

His smiled returned, his hand moving to cup your cheek ever so gently. He was quiet for a moment, just studying you as he tried to find the right words. "I've been a real idiot, sweetheart." he finally said, his voice soft. "I shoud've come by sooner..."

"Don't worry about that."

"I do worry. You've gotta stop lettin' me be a dumbass, you know that?"

"Me?" you chuckled. "I have nothing to do with that!"

Bucky's grip on you tightened, his expression still serious. "Bullshit." he insisted, shaking his head. "You have everything to do with that. You could set me straight if you wanted to, I'd listen to you in a heartbeat."

You smiled at him. "The I'll be wiser with my choices from now on."

John returned your smile with a smirk, his hand moving to rest against the side of your neck. "Damn right you will be." he told you, tugging you closer to him. "Gotta make up for lost time, sweetheart."

[nsharks]

HC of Ghost and his gf/wife fighting pls?

a relationship with simon is far from easy

Simon comes home that first night while you’re asleep.

Kicks off his boots by the door and doesn’t even bother changing out of his uniform when he slips into bed beside you. You hadn’t seen him in six months, and you really wanted to pick him up from the airport, but he’d insisted gruffly over the phone that’d he find his own way home.

“Are you sure? You’re going to be tired-“

“Don’t,” he’d breathed on the other side. “Don’t push this. I’ll get a cab.”

You should’ve known right then and there what version of Simon was coming home to you. It was strange, almost like he didn’t want to see you.

You wake up when he gets in the bed, but his body feels cold and foreign next to you. He’s still clothed, and you imagined that he might wake you up to at least give you a kiss, but instead he says nothing. Just lays there, eyes closed, and you’re almost certain he’s pretending to be asleep so you don’t try talking to him.

Things only get worse from there.

Over the next few days, Simon lives up to his name. He’s uncomfortably quiet around you, except to complain about small, stupid things.

“I told you not to go through my stuff while I was gone,” he had grumbled one day. Noticing that you had moved one of his books from his bedside table.

“It was just that one book,” you’d said quietly. “I was trying to clean up before you-“

“‘Don’t go through my stuff’ means don’t touch anything. Is that understood?”

Your tongue poked your cheek. You didn’t want to push his buttons. “Understood. Sorry.”

You try your best to give him space.

But Simon’s presence is starting to get suffocating. He hasn’t kissed you once since coming home. You’d try asking him how his time was, if anything had happened that he wanted to talk about, but he’d just shake his head in irritation and say there’s nothing to talk about.

One evening, you come home from work after grabbing some takeout for dinner.

Simon’s in the bedroom when you arrive. Large frame hunched over his desk, headphones clamped over his masked ears, and the music is so loud you can hear it from the doorway.

“Babe, I brought dinner,” you tell him, tapping his shoulder.

He tenses from your touch but nods, shucking off the headphones and following you to the kitchen.

You don’t even get the chance to eat before he’s looking at you intently, asking, “Did you remember to grab the thing for my car?”

His car. You freeze by the kitchen counter. You’d completely forgotten; he’d asked you to get… something because his car hadn’t been working for him since he got back. You told him to just take it to the shop but he said could fix it himself.

“What thing again?” you practically squeak.

The air shifts. “The breaker bar.”

“No… no, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

You’re expecting it at this point, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. Simon snaps. You see it in his eyes, a darkness flashing through them that you don’t see often. His hands roll up at his sides.

“Do you… know how to listen?” he asks coldly, voice low. “I told you where to find it and everything. You said you would.”

“I’ll get it tomorrow-“

“That’s not the point. First, you…” he’s shaking his head to himself, “First, you touch my stuff after I told you not to. And yesterday, you didn’t listen to me about-“

“Simon,” you cut him off, frowning. “I am not perfect. I make mistakes.”

“Well, you wouldn’t make so many mistakes if you just did what you’re told.”

His voice is at a level that makes you shiver. You normally love the sound of his voice, miss it like crazy when he leaves, but right now, it’s hurting you. Making your eyes turn damp and the hairs on your arms stand up.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you find the strength to snap at him. “You’re overreacting, Simon.”

“Overreacting?” He scoffs and you can see the veins on his forearms ticking. “This is more than… Do you know what happens when people make stupid mistakes? They fuckin’ die.”

In the back of your mind, you realize that Simon is unintentionally admitting to you what’s bothering him. Something happened. Something awful, something even he couldn’t just forget, and he brought it all the way home with him. Been taking it out on you all week long.

And on any other day, you might have had the patience to deal with it. But today, your durable patience is cracking at every seam, unable to handle the way he’s been treating you.

“Jesus, Simon, this isn’t a life or death situation,” you furrow your brows. “I’m not a soldier.”

“Thank god you’re not,” he barks. “You’d get everyone killed. Can’t follow simple fuckin’ instructions.”

“What are you trying to say? What, Simon? That I’m stupid?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes out through flared nostrils. “Maybe you are.”

Your patience is nowhere to be found as his words hang in the air. Hurt, and beyond fed up with him, you tear your wet eyes away from his darkened ones and walk away to the bedroom, locking the door behind you because you don’t want to be anywhere near him.

Soaking the pillows with your tears, you feel defeated. Six months without him had been painful; your heart aching whenever you made yourself a cup of tea, wishing he was there. You’d been so worried about him coming home, but now that he’s here, you wish he wasn’t. It feels hard to breathe, even as your tears dry and you lay there depleted.

You hear the shower run.

You hear shuffling around outside, somewhere in the living room.

Then finally, sometime after midnight, there’s the gentlest of knocks at the door.

“Can I come in?” a low voice hesitates on the other side.

You sit up on the bed and tell him yes. Once Simon’s in the room, the sight of him brings tears to your eyes once again. You thought you were done crying. You keep wiping at your cheeks, but he kneels in front of you and grabs your hands, replacing them with his own as he brushes his thumbs to your tears. It’s uncharacteristic of him to get on his knees like this. Submitting to you in remorse.

“Sorry,” he whispers. He bows his head. “I’ve been awful. You deserve… s’much better.”

“I can handle you ignoring me,” you croak. “I can’t handle you being mean, Simon.”

“No,” he narrows his eyes. “Don’t. You shouldn’t have to handle either of those.”

You nod in agreement as his hands splay over your thighs and rub them gently.

“Something’s hurting you,” you whisper carefully. “Something happened. Maybe… maybe you need to talk to someone.”

Hours ago, you might’ve worried about what he’d say. But now, his anger has dissipated, washed away by the hot shower he took and the sound of your crying in the bedroom. It pained him. He hated himself for not knowing how to deal with these feelings without being a dick to you.

Finally, head falling to your lap, he says, “Maybe I do.”

[camryn-haitani]

𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔, 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔, 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔

Sugar daddy! Kokonoi Hajime x reader

inspired by: "money, money, money" by ABBA

Koko is bored with nothing to do, until he saw you. you were working at the bar bonten owned and he overheard you talking about your money issues. he's got money to throw around, so what the hell, why not?

TW: SMUT, cursing, sugar daddy Koko, p in v sex, unprotected sex, teasing, daddy calling, fingering (fem receiving), praising, pet names, marijuana use, gun, mentions of murder

Koko walks around the penthouse he bought for all of the bonten executives, bored out of his goddamn mind. he grabs his keys to one of his many cars.

"the hell you going?" takeomi asks as his head leans off the couch, cigarette hanging from his lips.

"out and away from y'all." he slams the door.

the drive there was only getting on Koko's nerves even more. dumbasses not using their blinker, cutting him off, you get the jist.

he parks his car and throws the keys at the valet.

he takes out his gun and points it at him secretly, "get any scratch on my car, and that's how many bullets I put in you." he says lowly.

"yes, sir!" he nods. Koko walks in and sits at the bar and waits.

you see him sitting at the bar and you start panicking.

‘shit! that's Kokonoi Hajime. calm down y/n, don't piss him off, he already looks mad.’ the thoughts ran through your head.

“hello Mr. Kokonoi, is there anything I can get you?” you sweetly say. your whole body is on fire, scared he might kill you where you stand.

“whiskey.”

“yes sir.” you turn to make his drink.

“here you are. one whiskey.” you set his drink down and you hear your phone start to ring.

“I'm sorry, I'll be right back.” you go to the back so you at least have a little bit of privacy.

“hello?”

“y-yes, sir.”

“you know exactly who this is, y/n. don't act stupid”

“please I just need a little more time. my landlord raised my rent.”

“well?! where's my fuckin money?”

the dial tone rang through your ears. you never noticed the tears streaming down your skin till you look at the black screen of your phone. you fix your face and wipe away your salty tears. you walk back to the bar and see he's finished his drink.

“I don't give two fucks. you better have my money by the end of the week or you're as good as dead.”

“would you like another drink, Mr. Kokonoi?”

he said nothing. just stared at you, memorizing your features. he gets up from his seat and leans over the bar, inches from your face and your nose almost touching his.

“sir? may I help you.” you don't pull away, scared shitless.

“how much do I owe you?” he calmly asks.

“nothing, sir. I would never make you pay in your own establishment.” you say breathlessly.

“that's not what I asked. how much do I owe you?” emphasis on each word.

“$8, sir”

“how about $8,000?” he slides his rolled up bills to you.

“I can't possibly accept this. like I said, I won't make you pay in your own place.” your hands in a surrender position by your chest.

“come on, sweetheart. be a doll and take it.” he puts the bills in your hand. “and call me Kokonoi, I have a feeling I'll be back soon.” he backs away and leaves.

those names went straight to your core. you swallow the lump in your throat as you pack up from your shift that just ended.

Koko could not get you off of his mind, especially the phone call he overheard. he has a unknown dying need to help you, but how?

that's it. he's got money to throw around and he doesn't have anything to pay anyone. he decided to visit you again tomorrow.

Koko left at the same time as last night but Sanzu was on the couch instead.

next day

“where ya goin, Koko?” he asks as he pops a pill in his mouth.

“bar.” was all he said before walking out.

“well, damn. bye.” he waves his hand.

thank the gods you were working again tonight. he turns off his car and tossed the keys at the valet like yesterday. the valet boy nods already knowing the consequences and parks his car.

Koko say in the same spot and waited for you.

“oh hello, Mr. Kokonoi. same as yesterday?” you ask while drying a clean glass.

“no, I'm less stressed than I was yesterday. I'll get a cosmopolitan.”

“you got it, sir.”

“I told you to call me Kokonoi.” he says teasingly.

“I'm sorry, it feels weird calling my boss's name so casually.” you slide the glass to him.

he sips on his drink and rests his chin on his palm. “y/n, was it?”

“yes, sir.” you put up another glass.

“not to eavesdrop but I overheard your lil phone call.” he stirs his drink.

“i- I'm sorry, sir. I got into some trouble with money and I turned to loan sharks which was a horrible idea.” you try and defend yourself.

“mhm.”

“a-and I'm trying to pick up extra shifts a-and..”

“I have a deal for you.” he looks up at you.

“sir with all due respect, a deal is how I got into this situation.” you try and lighten up.

“that's why I'm proposing this deal, y/n. I give you all the money, gifts, and anything your heart desires.” he pauses. he leans over the bar like last time and gets inches away from you. “in return, you give me yourself. your body, your heart, your everything.”

“so…” you lightly laugh, “you'll be my sugar daddy?” you awkwardly smile.

“you could say that. so?” Koko asks.

you look at his eyes, then his lips. his eyeliner so perfectly done, his hair resembles fresh fallen snow, his bonten tattoo place strategically in the lines of his hair. you look back into his eyes to give him your answer.

“deal.” you nod. he closed that gap between you two to give you a quick kiss.

“I'll have my men come here and get you, along with your things.” he turns to leave.

you stand there wondering what the fuck just happened.

since you worked the night shift, you slept practically all day. you picked up an extra shift that started in about an hour in a half. you get up and put on your work clothes and start walking to your job.

as soon as you clock in, two big ass men came up to the bar.

“are you y/n l/n?” the one on the right asks.

“yes sir.” you say.

‘this must be the loan sharks guys.’ I sigh as I accept my fate.

“come with us.” they turn around and you see at least two guns strapped to their backs. you pack your things and follow them out.

they bring you to their car and don't say a single word to you.

when you reach their destination, they open your door for you. you're wondering as to why they would do that when your about to be killed. they lead you inside and take you to the elevator.

once you reach the floor, you follow the men. one of the guys gave 3 knocks an office door.

“come in.” was heard from behind the door.

you walk in, “oh, Mr. Kokonoi.” you let out a breath you were unknowingly holding.

“you seemed relieved to see me.” he chuckles.

“I'm not gonna lie, I thought the men were sent by the loan shark to come kill me.” you laugh to try and relieve some of the tension.

“no, my dear. quite the opposite. I do have something for you to sign, though.” he slides a piece of paper to you. “what is it .” you ask.

you can only nod as your hand trembles to grab a pen. he picks his blunt back up and puts it to his lips, inhaling the contents. he waits for you to sign your name as he blows the smoke in your face.

“just a little contract. you know, to ensure that you're mine and only mine.” his eyes grew dark.

you put the pen down and look at him. he sees your signature and smiles. Koko gestures his hand to you, signaling for you to come here. you get up from the chair and walk over to him. he grabs your wrists and pulls you down in his lap.

“I'm gonna have so much fun with you, doll. you have no idea.” he whispers in your neck. your breath hitches as his lips are attached to your neck. you tilt your head up to give him more room.

his hands roam to your ass, hands never leaving your body. the red in his eyes and his pupils are addicting to look at, especially in this light. Kokonoi brings one of his hands back to your front and down to your pants. he skillfully unbuttons your jeans with one hand and unzips them.

“aww, is my baby already wet for me?” he asks as his two middle fingers graze the bottom of your panties. you can only nod at his words, your mind still in shock that this is actually happening. he slips his fingers in with such ease that he laughs at you. you whine at him as the feeling overtakes your body.

his fingers move at such a fast pace, your mind can't keep up. next thing you know, you're cumming all over his fingers.

“such a good girl for me, for daddy, right?” his tongue wrapped around his cum covered fingers, waiting for your response. “mhm such a good girl for you, daddy.” he swears he can cum just from you calling him that.

his thumb lazily circles your clit as he watches you twist and contort above him. “you're gonna have to earn your next orgasm, mkay?” strings of “yes”’s spill from your pretty lips. “sit still and sound pretty for me. I hope you can do that.” he tease. “I can, I can. mhm.”

Kokonoi kisses down your neck, chest, and anywhere he can get his lips on all while he slowly plays with your clit. “I think you deserve a reward since you were such a good girl for me.” he goes back to you neck. “but, you have to get my cock out for me, pretty thing.” only nods came from you as you slightly pick yourself up to free his aching cock.

your eyes look down at him. “don't worry, baby. I'll help you, I know it's a lot for a small thing like you.” Koko teases your nipples through your shirt. you swallow hard and nod, setting yourself back down and letting his tip hit your hole.

his head tilts back as he feels your juices slide down his length. Kokonoi rubs your clit as you sink down onto him. he praises you the entire time until your reach his hips. your legs are trembling from him, so he picks you up and lays you on his desk. “how's that, princess?” “better.”

he slowly slides in and out until the pain turns into pleasure for you. you grip onto his pearly white hair and bring him in for a sloppy kiss, hoping to distract you from his impressive length.

your whines get higher with every push he does. Koko knows you're getting close so he speeds up his movement. he's hitting your sweet spot every fuckin time he snaps his hips into you.

“I know you're close, darling, let it all out for me.” he coos. tears prick your eyes as you ride both of your highs.

your breathing gets stable and Koko gave you some extra clothes to change into while his men get your clothes from your place.

“what's the name of that loan shark you got money from?” “uhm, (random ass name). why?” you ask.

“so I can kill him for threatening my baby.”

[lovrsm]

ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ

sum: in which your brother invites you to a party, and oh god, you're so glad you accepted.

word count: 2.4k

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: drinking, curse words & insinuation of cheating.

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ - ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ

"you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk"

Monaco was such a lovely place, when my brother had told me about it I thought he was exaggerating. I mean, it wouldn't be that weird if he had, he's always excited about everything, he's the kind of guy who makes you see as if the world is made of bright rainbow colors, and I believe him.

I arrived from the airport about 2 hours ago, I was on my way to the hotel where Lando was staying, he told me he got another room for me. How could I say no?

He called me yesterday at about 3pm

"No, I'm telling you, IT WILL BE THE PARTY OF THE YEAR!" he screamed over the phone, making me laugh.

"Lando, I just came from signing with my sponsors, they expect me to write more songs in a 4 months period, you know how complicated that's going to be?" I exhaled, taking off my heels, tossing them across the room as I lay down on the couch. I was exhausted.

"C'mon, you'll have plenty of things to write songs about, look, I can already hear it!" he started to hum a catchy tone, making the corners of my mouth go up. "Lando... Jake won't be able to be there, god, I don't even know if he'll want me to be there, you know?"

I could already see him in the doorway telling me where am I.

Sure, he was on canada filming, but what if he finds out?

"I'm not even letting you say no, I'm already booking tickets, get all you need, you can even shop here if you want, I just want my sister with me tomorrow night with me"

"You better go get me at the airport Lando Norris."

"I wont let you down peanut" He chuckled and hung up on me.

Well he kinda let me down, he couldn't come get me due to some last minute meeting he had. I don't really mind, I know having a busy life is exhausting.

I thanked the taxi driver giving his a generous tip, my bodyguard helped me get out my suitcases, I had a hoodie and black sunglasses, he had a casual outfit so we wouldn't stand out.

For being a top artist in the whole world, I did not like having that much security. But it was an obligation, not an option, I had to stick to what my manager and team asks me to do.

_

After a busy day of shopping and walking around the streets, I could barely feel my feet. I had gotten a beautiful short red dress. Perfect fit for the occasion. It was just 7p.m. and Lando had texted me he was on his way to my dorm.

The door opened to reveal my very festive brother in the other side "You're here!" "I'm here!" I screamed back jumping into his arms.

We catched up, he was telling me about how he checked the track, for the next season, since we were in December. Although I never really understood racing, when we were kids our parents would take us out to the karts, and I'd always crash while he was beating all of us who tried to play.

He focused on sports and I focused on music, since I was 12 years old I learned to play the guitar. My mom used to tell me that I was a genius at writing songs, I guess many people think the same.

Time passed by too fast, with him I felt like an hour were just 5 minutes.

After hating each other all our childhood, we became closer than ever after my career and his took off. I think it was because we were twins, we hated it when people said we acted the same, because physically we are not alike at all. I am so much prettier, obviously.

it was already 8 o'clock "I'm leaving, I should get ready, do you wanna come with me?"

"I'd stopped talking to you if you let me get there alone, I know none of these guys Lando."

"I'm sure you'll know somebody miss famous." He bumped my shoulder and left my room, entering to his which was next door.

I took my time getting ready. God, I love being a woman. I took a bath, fixed my hair, put on my make-up and finally there was the dress, hanging on the bathroom door. I think it is one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen in my life.

How did I manage to put on the mini dress correctly by myself? I don't even know, but I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. God if only someone could look at me.

Oh wait! There is someone, I grabbed my phone to click his name, my phone started to ring. I waited patiently, but he did not answer. So I called him once more, this time he did answer.

I heard loud music and singing in the back. "What do you need?" he asked, I could hear the irritation in his voice. "I wanted to hear from you, we haven't talked-"

"We talked last Monday, wasn't that enough? I'm busy." He interrupted me.

"Where are you?" I asked intrigued this time.

"Uhm... I'm in the bar with some friends"

"Oh and that's just more important than your girlfriend?" I raised my voice at him, I was now sitting the edge on the bed.

"Look, I don't want to fight, just call me later." He said, basically hanging the phone. "Jake..." I said before he could do so.

"What?" He sounded desperate. "Take care." I said.

"Ok" He hung. I felt disgusted, why? not idea, I just felt dirty, as if I was forcing him to talk to me. I took some deep breathes so I could calm my nerves down.

I don't even want to go out anymore.

I tried hard not to cry, I wasn't going to ruin my makeup over some small argument, I'm sure tomorrow we'll be alright, we always end up alright.

It felt as an eternity till I heard a knock on my door, I quickly grabbed my bag, looked in the mirror once more to fix my dark wavy hair, and rushed to the door. I opened it, in the side was Lando, his back on the wall while he was looking at his phone.

He turned it off and looked at me, I smiled "Ready to go Peanut?"

"Lets go"

_

We finally got to the club, electronic music was blasting off, people were already drunk, and boy they didn't even tried to hide it.

We had to basically run to the VIP area, I didn't said anything to my bodyguard about this, besides, he can use a break.

Lando was immediately greeted by everyone who was in the room. "LANDO!" A man screamed to him "Ayee, we're here!" He said hugging the man, and patting him in the back. "you're so late, you were the only ones missing!"

"we're here Pierre, I'd like to present to you all my sister!" He hugged me by the side and I waved with a smile on my face. It seemed that most of them recognized me, because some of them just stood there in shock "Hey everyone, ready to get wasted?" I laughed, that made them less tense and cheered, lifting their cups.

Lando gave a me a sweet kiss in my head, "see, you'll be fine, have some fun peanut!" I let go and we both went our own way.

I started to talk to a girl, her name is Kika, I learnt she was the girlfriend of a guy named Pierre Gasly. I've heard about him but no one ever told me how fun his girlfriend was!

"Girl, you should try this margarita, the most wholesome thing you'll have in your life!"

She was not kidding with that. In a few minutes, I had asked for... about 5 of them, or maybe just 13.

I had talked to everyone in the room by 10 pm, they were all so fun, and the energy was of another planet.

"Yeah, and then Max would make that grumpy face. I swear he looks like and old man!"

"very mature Lando, so mature." I bursted out laughing. "LECLERC HAS ARRIVED!" I heard someone scream in the entrance, and in seconds half of the group was there greeting the guy.

I decided I was going to take something else than a margarita. I walked up to the bartender, who definitely did not understood me. I don't know if I was speaking too softly or if I was just way too drunk to talk, but I decided to leave, I turned around and bumped into someone.

I was about to loose my balance till his arms were wrapped around my waist, I was able to stand straight. "are you alright?" he asked.

I looked into his eyes, green eyes "what?"was all I could manage. "Are you alright?" He asked again, I now noticed a thick accent, I bursted out laughing for that.

He looked so confused, he let go and chuckled with me. For a second it was as if the whole club was quiet. I looked again at him, and I immediately looked down at the floor. He grabbed my hand, the lights went out for a second and my world spun. My legs were about to give up.

His touch was... it was, god I can't even say it.

"I'm Charles, what's your name?"

I bit my lip, what went out of my mouth was definitely not what I wanted to say. "Do you always talk like that?" I asked a bit to seriously, I chuckled so that I wasn't that rude.

"Yeah, my first language isn't english."

"Huh." I said, I felt as if he had a goddamn magnetic field and it was pulling me towards him, I couldn't stand it.

I ran off to the other side of the room, leaving him standing alone next to the bar.

_

All night.

All night I couldn't stop thinking about him, his hand touching my hand in the darkened room...

and I made fun of the way he talked.

I'm never drinking again.

Yet there I was, in the bar once more, asking for whiskey. Mature, so mature.

I kept bouncing back and forth between the people there, once I saw Charles walking to my way, I would ran to the other side of the room.

I have a boyfriend for gods sake! I can't be thinking these unhealthy things about him.

But, I mean, can you blame me?

Look at him.

His first two buttons were unbottened which made him look so attractive. And you should see his dimples, he's so gorgeous it actually fucking hurts!

"So you're not going to talk to me?" I heard a voice behind my ear. His chest touching my back. I didn't move, but I did answer.

"Who said I wasn't going to?" I asked playfully, with a grin on my face, knowing he couldn’t see me.

He hummed in my ear, before he turned me to look him in the eye, he grabbed my neck, but he didn't kiss me. Instead, he brought his lips back to my ear.

"Then why do you keep running, huh?" His hot breath sent a shiver down my spine. I was dumbfolded by his actions, he took a step back to look at me.

I looked into his eyes, I was absolutely taking him in. I looked at his dimples because of the grin he had in his face. His eyebrows, his slightly sweaty hair, with pieces of it falling into his face.

I couldn't help myself, I noticed how he looked into my eyes, and then to my mouth.

What if..?

I asked to myself, I closed my eyes and got closer to him, waiting for a kiss. But he grabbed me by my hips pulling me back.

"You're far too drunk, ma chou" I heard and opened my eyes, he gave me a sympathetic smile. I felt dumb for a second, but after seeing his face... I think I might be falling.

"Why don't we leave, would you like that?" I hugged him, my head in his neck. I nodded as fast as I could. He grabbed me and in a second, we were in his car.

For sure the alcohol got to my head that night.

_

Taglist

[luza-wayne]

drunk talk.

bokuto koutarou x reader

wc: 1.3k

i like the little hurt i felt, rereading this fufu. i remembered i posted this on one of my old tmblr acc. pls request to me, i'm begging T^T

you were woken up from your afternoon nap when you heard your phone went off continuously. you grumpily reached for it on the nightstand just beside the bed.

as if a spell was cast on you, your expression immediately lit up, when you saw the notification.

bokuto has been more expressive and more clingy this past week. he does things like staring at you while you do work and he'd always bring you sweets and flowers every time he came home.

just yesterday, he brought you another necklace.

though you want to know why he's like that, you don't mind it, in fact, you love it. that's why you make sure to show him how much you love him too.

you looked at the time on your phone and it's already quarter to five.

i guess i should clean up the house. you thought as you fixed your hair and stood up.

...

*ding dong* 

you were woken up from your slumber for the second time today when the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the living room of the house you shared with your boyfriend.

ah bad. i fell asleep while cleaning. 

you drowsily rubbed your eyes as you walked to the door, not minding the unfinished work.

you opened it and there was akaashi looking so done with his life, while your partner hanged on his left shoulder.

“akaashi, did he drink that much?” you said looking at him pitifully.

“yeah,” he stated. “...but he's acting weird today.”

you wanted to ask what he meant, but you told him to get in first to at least place bokuto on the couch and rest his shoulder.

he softly throws his previous captain on the couch as you take off bokuto's shoes. when you came back from putting the footwear on the shoe rack, you offered akaashi water.

“hey, what do you mean earlier?” you asked him, worried that bokuto might be having a problem.

“normally, he would be so energetic and loud, but today he just drank and drank. i immediately noticed it, that's why i didn't drink too much because i'm sure he'll be too drunk later on.” akaashi explained and chugged on the water you gave him.

you looked at bokuto and you noticed how troubled his expression is, even though he's sleeping.

“did he tell you anything?” you queried the editor who’s looking at bokuto.

“sadly, he passed out before i could ask him anything.” he sighed and fixed his glasses.

after you talked a bit to akaashi, he bid farewell to you, since he has work tomorrow. you sent him off while thanking him for looking out for the drunk guy on your couch.

you went to the bathroom after to get a bowl and towel to clean up bokuto. you crouched beside the couch and slowly took his arm.

you successfully wiped it, so went to the other arm. as you reached for it, you suddenly froze when he groaned.

“hm? who you?” he questioned looking at you suspiciously.

here it is again. every time bokuto is drunk, he always fails to recognize anyone. anyone. 

“ah. i was with akaashi. you're akaashi, right?” he wanted to confirm, but you just smiled at him and offered him water, but he refused.

he turned his body to the side, he's facing the backrest of the couch and his arm dangled on the edge of it.

“akaashi…” he called even though akaashi's not there.

you just decided to go along with it, hoping you'd catch something funny that you can tell him tomorrow once he comes to his senses.

“yes?” you answered, putting a low tone to your voice.

“i want to ask you something.” he said, not moving from his current position.

“what is it?”

“i don't know what to do.” 

“about what? tell me.” you listened to him intently.

is he going to talk about what's bothering him?

“actually, i love (y/n)...” you replied with a hum.  “but…” he refutes.

but?

he changed his position again and now he's facing the ceiling with his arms covering his eyes. this is the first time you saw him this serious while drunk.

“i love her, but i don't love her.” he whispered and bit his lips.

“what?” you were unsure whether you heard it right or not.

i must’ve misheard it, but i’m pretty sure i didn’t. what is he talking about?

“what do you mean?” you let go of the towel accidentally making it land on the bowl, splashing water on its surroundings.

“what i mean is that i'm not feeling the same way as before. i love (y/n), but it's not the same love i'm feeling from before.” he said, his lips were quivering and his voice was a bit shaky.

“i'm trying, akaashi. i'm trying to bring back the love. i’m doing the things i did when we were still new to the relationship. i'm hoping the love would come back, but…” a tear fell on the side of his eyes, down to his ears. 

“what if it doesn't come back?” his voice was getting quieter and quieter.

“what if my love for her fades away?” he sobs.

you just stood there looking at him talking. a lot of information came in at once, it seems like your mind can't keep up.

he doesn't feel the same anymore? so the reason he's been extra sweet lately is that he wanted to revive his feelings for me? 

you let out a laugh and comb your hair with your fingers.

“what are you laughing for, akaashi?” he fixed his position, sat on his butt and looked up at you, even though his eyes were still blurry.

“nothing. it's just, (y/n) thought nothing of it when you were extremely sweet and clingy, though she loves it, now she feels like shit knowing what was the reason.” you tried to finish what you were saying, while also trying to keep the tears from falling.

he confusedly looked at you. you cleared your throat and clenched your hand.

“why don't you just tell her the truth? that you've already fallen out of love?” he lowered his head and placed both of his hands on the sides of his head.

“but, i promised her forever.”

he said, vocals almost inaudible, because of how shaky it is. anyone who can see him right now, can tell that what he's showing right now is what he really feels deep inside him.

“i promised that to her, and i still don't want her to be sad.” he clasped both of his hands.

“but you shouldn't lead me on that you're still mine because that hurts much more thinking all your i love you's are genuine, but it isn't. it’s not love, if you’re faking it.” 

you sighed heavily, you felt as if your legs lost all their power, you suddenly wanted to sit down. you did, but on the floor right in front of your boyfriend.

you looked at him while cries and worried about what to do with himself for minutes and minutes.

it seems like he sobered up. 

you smiled weakly and reached for his cheeks. you noticed how he melted into it, now you know that he's really back to his senses.

“babe…?” he muttered and looked at you. 

you saw how his eyes showed terror now that he'd realized that the one he's talking to all the time was you and not akaashi.

“b-babe, i—” he held your hand that was on his face, but you pulled it out of his grip.

you nodded slowly, smiling at him.

“shh. it's okay. we can talk about it tomorrow. you should take a rest for now.” you said and walked towards your guy's room, refusing to let even a drop of tear fall in front of him.

bokuto watched as you took each step. what he's feeling right now doesn't seem right. 

it is as if you're walking away from him for good, but he feels like he should run after you. 

but, shouldn't he feel that way if he had already fallen out of love, right?

thank you so much for reading! reblogs would much appreciated!

also, you can visit my ko-fi acc, if you'd like to tip me and help this broke college student (>//3//<)

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Omg I love all your fics and was wondering if I could request a wonka x reader where she is Mrs. Scrubitts child and she secretly takes care of noodle and she falls hard for Willy and try’s to stop him from signing the contract.

Entranced

MASTERLIST

taglist: @kpopgirlbtssvt

I love thissss! Readers adopted, I did kinda change it so that they had some more chemistry ): Might make a part 2, if anyone wants one

You watched from behind the counter, along with Noodle. You both peered through and looked at the new man coming in.

He was attractive, and he spoke with a smile on his face. You both were crouched down, out of sight from your adoptive mother.

Noodle looked to you knowingly.

Scrubitt opened the door up, yelling “Get the man some gin.” She said sharply, you quickly stumbled and stood up, going as quick as possible. Willy watched, feeling bad at the treatment you seemed to be getting. Noodle followed as you got a cup.

You looked down as you handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He looked at you, his eyes with something you couldn’t quite place. You looked up and then walked into the back again.

Noodle looked at you, you looked down at her and you both crouched down again, looking out.

He soon was about to sign when you mouthed the words. “Read the small print.”

“What?” He whispered, leaning in and glancing at Ms. scrubitt.

“Don’t sign it!” You mouthed.

Ms. Scrubitt cut you off, closing it and laughing nervously.

He looked back at the paper, and unfolded it.

He looked back to where you once were.

“Y/n, and noodle. Adopted them both.” She explained. “Lil troublemakers.” She laughed nervously again.

“Go.” You told Noodle, already knowing your fate.

“I’m not gonna leave you-“

“Go, noodle.” You whispered again, she sighed and ran away, you stood up and waited. Bleacher came bursting through the door, grabbing your arm roughly.

"I question why she adopted you." He grumbled out, along with some other insults. He threw you onto the floor, you looked up at him and he sneered at you before shutting the door on your face, locking you away.

---------------------------—————————

“Room service.” Noodle said, knocking on the door.

“Told you not to sign. Should’ve read the print.” You said from behind her. He was staring out at the window, then turned to you both, a small smile.

“Slight problem with that.”

“You can’t read, can you?” Noodle said from besides you.

“I focus my studies almost exclusively on chocolate. I had nowhere to stay, I was going to freeze out there.”

“It’s okay. I know what you mean.” You nodded at him with an understanding smile.

“For everything else, I’ve relied on the kindness of strangers.” He said, smiling back. And he knows he just met you, but he found himself entranced by your smile. And you wouldn't admit it, but you have felt attracted to the man since you saw him yesterday.

“Look where that’s got you.” Noodle said. “The staff quarters.” She said, referring to the room.

“Least you’ve got a bed.” You said, and he was going to sit down on it. The old bed collapsed the second he got onto it. His eyes widened in shock.

“You had a bed. Happen’s to all of them. I’ll get someone to fix it tomorrow.” You waved it off.

“Desk, and a wash basin/toilet. The water comes in two temperatures, cold and colder.” Noodle continued, pouring the colder water into the cup.

“How much do you owe them?” You asked the man.

“Ten thousand.”

“Count yourself lucky. I owe 30.” Noodle said again.

He looked to you, his face in shock at the amount.

“50.”

“What?! How do you owe them money? I thought they found you down a laundry chute. And I thought they adopted you.” He looked to Noodle and back at you.

“Oh, they did. Took me in out of the goodness of their hearts, and charged me for the privilege.” She said.

He looked to you now, interested in your story.

“The hag adopted me but when I grew up, they said that they had regretted it. Charged me 50,000 saying how I had caused too much trouble. I get one sovereign a day, and to pay it off I would have to work for.. roughly 137 years.”

“What a pair of monsters.” He said, arms folded as he leaned against the wall now.

“The greedy beat the needy everytime, Mr. Wonka.” You started, with a shrug as you picked the pail up, carrying it and beginning to leave the room.

“Guess it’s just the way of the world.” Noodle said, finishing your sentence.

“Oh come on. That’s just your orphan syndrome talking.”

You both turned back now, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Our what?” You both said in unison.

“Your orphan syndrome. And we are not gonna be eating any slops.” He dumped the food away.

“What are you doing?” Noodle asked him, you both entered the room again.

“I’m making chocolate of course. How do you like it? Dark? White? Nutty? Absolutely insane?” He tilted his head to the side.

You shrugged, “We’ve never had it.” You had a small smile on your face as you looked back at the man, he was intriguing. He was handsome, and he had a smile that you felt was the best you’ve ever seen.

“you’veneverhadchocolate?” He said quickly, you couldn’t quite understand what he said. “You‘ve never had chocolate?”

“No…” Noodle and you said.

“What?!” He exclaimed loudly, “You’ve never had chocolate?!”

“Still no.”

“Well, this is unbelievable. This is outrageous.” He mumbled to himself, opening up the wooden box.

“Well lucky for you, Y/n, Noodle, I have a selection of the worlds finest ingredients right here in my travel factory.”

He got to work soon and made 2 different chocolates. While working, he explained how he started his business, how important his mom had been to him.

"She sounded like an amazing woman." You said, offering him a smile. Your smile comforted him.

Noodles was a cloud with a lightning bolt, yours was a heart-shaped one. You smiled at it, and he smiled back as he watched you both bite into it. You watched Noodle, but her smile disappeared.

“I wish you hadn’t done that.” She said, you quirked an eyebrow. You thought it was amazing.

“You didn’t like it?”

“No, I like it. It’s just…” you could tell she was hesitating to say something.

“Now each day I don’t have chocolate will be a little harder.”

You frowned at her, if you knew she had liked it before you would’ve saved up all the money in the world to buy it for her. Willy opened his mouth to speak but you spoke faster.

“I think I have a few sovereigns saved. Next time we go out, I will buy you as much as you want.” You said to her, a smile on your face she looked up at you.

“You already waste all your money on me.” She said, she already felt terrible about it. You did more for her than anyone else had ever.

“No need to.” Willy interrupted, you both turned to him now.

“How would you both like to have all the chocolate you can eat, all day, every day, for the rest of your life?”

“A lifetime supply?” Noodle asked.

“A lifetime supply.”

“What do we have to do?” She asked.

“Not much… just get me out of here.”

Noodle stood up, you remained seated and furrowed your eyebrows. How would you do that?

“Are you crazy?” She said loudly.

“Sh, sh, it’s easy. I’ll get someone to cover my shift, and y/n, you could smuggle me out of your laundry cart.”

You thought about it, and it wasn’t a terrible idea. You both looked at each other for a moment, then he turned back to Noodle when she began to protest.

“Just for a few hours, mind. No one will even know I was gone.”

“What’s the point in that?”

“To sell chocolate, of course! We’ll split the profits and pay off Mrs. Scrubitt in no time.”

“It’s a nice idea, Willy.” You started, he began to walk away to the window again.

“It’s a great idea.” He corrected.

“It is. But, it’ll never work. It would take forever to pay off all three debts. That’s 90,000 sovereigns.”

“It will work. I promise. Even if it does take a while. Eat your chocolate,” he said the last sentence to Noodle.

“And Mrs. Scrubbitts like a hawk. She keeps her beady eye on everything that comes out the wash house except…”

“There was that one time the aristocratic came and she was all over the poor man.” You said, they both turned to you.

“All we have to do is find an aristocrat and slip out while she’s distracted.”

“Where would we even find an aristocrat..?”

He also ate a piece of chocolate, and the lightbulb going off. Literally and metaphorically.

"Huh." he said.

"Huh?

"Huh."

"A double huh."

He turned back both of you now.

"Do you have a pencil and paper?"

"Yes, why?" you asked him

"I have an idea."

[allthingsfangirl101]

The Bookworm and The Basketball Player – Steve Harrington

"Just go talk to him."

I jumped, involuntarily letting out a small shriek. I didn't recover before Steve came jogging over.

"Everything okay over here?" He asked, looking between me and Robin.

"We're fine, Harrington," Robin said, not looking away from me. "I just scared Y/N. My bad."

Steve glanced at me, his eyes softening. "So you're okay?" He asked me.

"Yeah," I said, my voice soft. "I'm fine, Steve."

Steve looked between me and Robin before clearing his throat and fixing his vest. He sent me one more look before going back to work. I turned toward Robin, the butterflies in my stomach disappearing when I saw her smirking at me.

"Please don't say anything," I whispered as I glanced at him walking into the back office. "I know how pathetic this is, okay? I know how sad and pathetic I'm being. Of course, the one guy in all of Hawkins that I happen to fall for is Steve Harrington."

"Y/N," Robin sighed but I was on a roll. I have been holding this in for too long.

"And what's worse is the fact that he would never be with someone like me. Before you give me the 'you're a great girl, why wouldn't he like you' speech, it's useless. There is nothing that you could say to convince me that I'm exactly the kind of girl he'd go for. I'm quiet, introverted, antisocial. The list goes on. I'd rather stay at home and watch a movie than go to a party. I'd rather drink a smoothie than a beer. I'd rather read a book than go to a high school basketball game. Trust me, I'm not the kind of girl Steve Harrington would fall for."

"If I could say just one thing," she said hesitantly. "The guy you're thinking about is the Steve Harrington from high school. He's not that kind of guy anymore, Y/N. He's changed."

"But I haven't."

Robin studied me. "That doesn't matter," she said, her voice dropping. "Y/N, Steve's a great guy. If you like him, you should tell him."

"Steve would never go for someone like me," I said, pushing down the pain. "So I might as well forget my feelings."

I grabbed the box of returns and started putting them back on the shelves. I tried to ignore the feeling in my stomach when I saw Steve walk over and start talking to Robin.

Robin didn't talk to me for the rest of our shift. Instead, she kept talking to Steve. That stupid feeling in my stomach kept coming back every time I looked at them talking to each other.

Robin and I are good friends. Robin and Steve are good friends. Me and Steve, however, act as if it's our first day working together.

At closing time, we went about our usual routine of closing up shop. Something about the smirk on Robin's face made me nervous for our shift together tomorrow.

* * * * *

I walked into the empty video store, not paying attention to who was already in the store. When I looked up and saw who was here, my breath got caught in my throat.

"Morning, Y/N."

"Morning, Steve," I stuttered. "I thought Robin was working the opening shift with me."

"She asked me yesterday if we could switch," he shrugged as he powered the computer on.

"Was this before or after. . ."

"Before or after what?" He asked when I didn't finish my question.

"Never mind," I said a little too quickly. I went into the back room and dropped off my bag. I pulled my vest on as I walked back out to the store.

"You okay with running the cash register?" Steve asked as I joined him behind the counter. "We got a shipment of new movies. The boxes are heavy so I figured it'd be easier for me to lug them around and unpack them than it would be for you."

"Okay," I said, picking at my nail polish.

"Not that you're not strong," Steve said quickly. "I just don't want you getting hurt while lifting and moving boxes around the store. I didn't mean to come off as sexist, Y/N. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I chuckled. "I didn't take it that way. Thanks though."

"Thanks?" He stuttered.

"For watching out for me," I said as I patted him on the shoulder and walked to the storage room to grab another box of candy.

When I walked back out, Steve was focused on unloading a box. I walked over to the counter and started putting the candy away. I moved on to checking in yesterday's returns. After I finished, I started putting them back on the shelves.

"Oh shit!"

I looked up in time to see Steve drop a box, instantly holding his back. I ran over and gently put my hand on his back.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said through his teeth. I glanced around to see the store empty.

"Come with me," I said. I grabbed his hand and kept my other hand on his lower back.

"But the store," he said, trying to hide his pain.

"Is empty," I finished. "Come on. The movies can sit alone long enough for us to make sure your back doesn't get worse."

He didn't argue as I led him to the employee lounge in the back. I helped him sit down and ran to the fridge.

"What are you. . ." He didn't finish his question because he tried to sit back.

"There's an ice pack somewhere in here. At least, I thought there was," I mumbled as I tried to find it.

"Since when have we had an icepack back here?"

"Since Robin kept dropping boxes on everyone's feet." My heart jumped into my throat when he laughed. I turned around with the ice pack in my hand but froze when Steve was suddenly right in front of me.

"Y/N," he whispered.

"What are you. . ."

He grabbed the ice pack out of my hand and tossed it onto the nearby table. He then grabbed my hands in his and intertwined our fingers.

"I heard you and Robin."

"You heard us?" I asked, not understanding. "I don't. . . You heard us when?"

"Yesterday," he answered causing my heart to jump into my throat.

"Yesterday," I said slowly. My eyes widened when I realized what he had heard. "Oh."

Steve stepped closer to me, his face inches from mine. I held my breath as he leaned down and delicately pressed his lips to mine. I let go of his hands and wrapped my arms around his neck as we deepened the kiss.

I broke the kiss when Steve let out a pained gasp. "I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I was getting you ice to help your back."

I let go of him and ran to the table. I quickly grabbed the ice and went back to him. He smiled at me as he grabbed my hand, moved it around his body, and placed the ice pack and my hand on his back.

"Much better," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Suddenly his smile dropped. "Y/N, can we talk about your conversation with Robin?"

"What about it?" I asked, looking away from his eyes. Steve used his free hand to lift my chin.

"The part where you thought that I would never be with someone like you," he said, his hand still holding my chin. "And the part where you said that there was nothing Robin could say to convince you that you're exactly the kind of girl I'd go for. Or the part where you listed off things you like to do, assuming I wouldn't like to do them too."

"I just. . . I can. . . I can't really explain," I finally got out. "But I'm not wrong. Why would our school's basketball star want to be with the school's bookworm?"

"Because he knows that she's so much more than that," Steve whispered. "And because she doesn't know the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth that a certain basketball player often spent his lunches watching a certain bookworm who always spent her lunches sitting in the library by the window with her nose stuck in a book. Every. Single. Day. And the truth that the same basketball player wished he would've had the guts to ask out that bookworm. Or the truth that the only reason he didn't ask her out was because he never thought the bookworm would want to date someone with his low grades."

"Or the truth that the bookworm has a major crush on the basketball player even with his low grades," I blurted out.

Steve smiled as he pulled me closer. "Or the truth that the basketball player has a major crush on said bookworm."

Steve leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I smiled against his lips as I kissed him back.

"Y/N? Steve? Where the hell are you guys?"

"Crap," I whispered as we broke the kiss.

"We should go out there," Steve chuckled.

"You should stay here," I corrected. "I'll go handle Robin and the store."

I started to walk out, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back into his chest.

"Before you go back," he said, "I need to ask you something."

"Okay," I said, trying to push down my sudden nerves.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

"Are you. . ."

"Yes," he chuckled. "The basketball player wants to buy the bookworm dinner and listen to her talk about her latest book and vent about the newest and worst movie adaptation of a beloved book."

"For the record," I said, my voice dropping, "the bookworm would be willing to sit and watch a basketball game with the basketball player just so she could spend time with him."

Steve was about to kiss me again but Robin came bursting through the door.

"There you two are," she sighed. "What the hell are you doing back here? Why is no one watching the store? Why are you holding the ice pack like that?"

"Steve threw out his back moving boxes," I said as I finally let go of the ice pack and wrapped my arms around myself.

Robin looked between the two of us with a knowing smirk. "Ohh," she elongated. "Gotcha. Well, I'm gonna go cover the store. You two. . ."

"Robin," Steve warned. "Shut up."

"Sorry," she chuckled. She sent me a wink and turned on her heel. Steve and I turned toward each other and laughed awkwardly.

"So, date tonight, bookworm?"

"Tonight works, basketball player."

[xetlynn]

Twilight- The Switch of Daylight: Chapter Nine, Hot and Cold

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

Eight | Nine | Ten

Days have passed since I've seen Sam. Weirdly I feel like I need to be cautious around him now.

Bella noticed how short I've been with everyone, like I'm in the room with everyone but mentally I'm far... far away. She's been trying to convince me to go to the Rez with her to help her and Jacob fix up the bikes she got from the neighbor. Well she secretly got them. Charlie doesn't know.

I've declined every single time but for some reason today I feel like I just need a reason to get out of the house. "You really want to come?" Bella smiles at me as I pull on my leather jacket that I haven't worn in a while. "Yes, don't make me change my mind." I point a finger at her, causing her to chuckle. Leading us out of the house, she convinced me to drive my bike with her on the back. Something I wasn't entirely sure on doing but she's my older sister. I have to have some sort of respect in her "seniority." Even if it's only a 10 and a half month difference.

I give her my helmet since she's still human. When I take off I feel her grip my waist and I laugh to myself. "It's not funny, you have to warn someone before you do that!" She shouts over the sound of the wind hitting us. "It wouldn't have been as funny!" I admit to her, I feel her jab my side. She mumbles a "whatever," I speed up, getting closer to the rez.

We get to the garage that Bella directed me to. She trusted me to hear everything even though she couldn't herself. I park in a quick motion, letting Bella off and give me my helmet back. "Woah, I get the privilege of having both Swan sisters with me today?" Jacob teases as he pokes his body out from the garage. "Yeah, don't get too excited." I tell him, following Bella inside after putting my kickstand up, making sure it doesn't slide in the dirt. He puts his hands up in defense, we go over to the two bikes that look pretty good.

"You guys are doing fucking amazing." I comment, admiring the bikes. "Thank you, thank you." Jacob does a tiny bow, his hair slightly getting in his face. Then I remember things Sam said about him. About how he could be next turning into a wolf. My face scrimmages at the thought. About the fact that me being here could also be the reason he would turn into one.

"Earth to [Name]." The two wave in my face, shaking me out of my thoughts. I smile at them. "Yes?"

The rest of the day, they show me what they've been doing, showing how I can help as well. Quil and Embry pass by a few times. I watch how they all mess with Bella. How happy she looks compared to how she was just weeks ago. The nightmares also seem to be calming down. The slightest bit.

The next day I decide to join them again. We end up staying later than what we did yesterday. "Quil keeps asking to come over. I think he likes you a little too much." Jacob suddenly speaks up as we were walking to her truck. I'm not leaving with her, I have some things I need to do but I just want to make sure she gets home safe.

"Tell him I'm not into the cougar thing." Bella half-heartedly tells him. "What is it with you and age? I mean that Cullen guy was young, didn't seem to... bother you." You can tell he instantly regrets his choice of words, especially mentioning Edward. I notice her spirits shift. "Alright, we'll see you tomorrow Jacob!" I jump in, patting his back as Bella forces a smile.

"Goodnight Jake." She waves to him and gets in her truck. We watch as she drives off.

"I can't believe I said that." He curses at himself, kicking the dirt once her truck is out of sight. "It's okay, she knows you didn't mean anything by it." I rub his back, he flinches away from my touch out of shock.

"Dude, your hand is hot." He hisses. My eyebrows furrow.

"Hot?" I try to feel it myself but it's just the normal ice cold feeling it's always had since I turned.

"Yeah, are you running a fever or something?" He comes up to me, touching my forehead but when he does he tilts his head. "Now you're cold. What the heck?" He flips his hand over a few times, feeling my forehead. I laugh, shoving him away. "I think you're going crazy." I ruffle his hair to piss him off, and like usual it does. "Hey, that's messed up." He goes to fix it as I snicker.

"I gotta speak with your dad, I'll talk to you later." I punch his shoulder, jogging towards his house. I glance back to see him still fixing his hair, heading towards the garage.

My hand was hot? Maybe it was just so cold it felt hot? I open the front door to Billy's house, his head turns my way and he raises a brow.

"What can I do you for, [Name]? You got more questions?" He doesn't move his wheelchair my way so I take it as a sign to go over to him. "Not exactly? Do I feel hot to you?" I ask him, putting my hand in front of him.

I watch him as he takes a deep breath, slowly going to grab at my hand. I feel the usual flinch most people do as they feel the coldness of my skin. "No... why do you ask?" He looks up at me, letting go of my hand. "Jacob said my hand was hot when I rubbed his back. Maybe it was just overly cold and confused him?" I lean against the wall. "You're definitely not hot right now." He mutters, staring at the ground. The tv plays in the background. "If it happens again let me know." He tells me. "What does it mean?" I carefully question.

"Nothing good, that's what." He's angry. I start to rub my arms in anxiousness. "I'm sorry." I say, his eyes snap towards me. His eyes soften at the sight of me.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, [Name]. It's just a very unfortunate circumstance for you." He makes eye contact with me and I can tell he's mentally apologizing.

That night, Bella had another nightmare. Charlie and I rush up from our spots in the house. Her screams fill our ears, Charlie turns the light on, both of us going to either one of her sides. Gently shaking her. Her eyes open, tears streaming down her face. I help her sit up, sitting on the bed with her. She's told me the coldness I have soothes her when she wakes up. As if I'm him when she feels my hand on her arm.

Charlie hands her the glass of water, she takes a drink of it and I watch him pull the dream catcher from her bedpost.

"This thing's not working very well." He grunts. "It's... not as bad as it was." Bella whispers. "Yeah right. I know what it's like, you know. When your mom left me. I had a hell of a time. Imagined doing all kinds of crazy things, just to stop the pain." He admits to her, Bella avoids his look. She curls into my touch, I hold her a little tighter.

"But hanging out with Jacob seems to help get your mind off things." He states, more questionably though. "He's been keeping me afloat." She agrees. "That's good. He's a good guy." Charlie hypes him up, I roll my eyes while smirking, knowing it would give the kid a bigger ego.

He leaves the room and I go to do the same but Bella tugs on my arm. "Please stay with me." She pleads, I nod, plopping back down on the bed.

"I'm sorry for using you as a body pillow." She mumbles, cuddling into my side. It reminds me of when we were kids. Even though she's older I always was holding her. Protecting her. Our dynamic switching when certain things happen. "It's okay. It's better than being alone. The night time is the worst." I share with her. "I'm sorry." Is all she says before she closes her eyes, falling back asleep.

"We got lucky at the dump. You know how much a new crankshaft goes for?" Jacob informs us as Bella drives along the La Push cliffs. I'm in the middle as Jacob sits by the window, he studies a greasy motorcycle crankshaft. "Sure, I spend all my free time on crankshaft-dot-com." She sarcastically responds. "I think that's a porn site." I speak up, Jacob agrees with me with a laugh.

"These bikes are gonna be rolling soon. Where should we ride first?" He asks Bella, changing the subject. "Someplace sunny." It then clicks in her head that I wouldn't be able to go. "Like there's any place sunny around here." Jacob comments. "Actually I think around here might be good." She falls back on her word.

Then I see Bella look int he distance of the cliff. I glance over to see Sam, Jared, and Paul rough housing. "Isn't that Sam Uley?" She points ahead. "And his cult." Jacob bitterly says. Then two of the guys throw Jared over the cliff, Bella slams on the brakes.

Jumping out of the truck. Jacob and I follow after her. "Oh my god! Stop them!" She runs toward them. Jacob and I burst into laughter, which slows her down.

"They're not really fighting. Bella. They're cliff diving." He assures her. "What, on purpose?" Bella looks over at us.

"Scary as hell, but a total rush." Jacob nods his head. "I did it when I was apart of their supposed cult." I bump Jacob as I walk closer to Bella. We watch Paul take a running start, flinging himself in the air. "Most of us jump from lower down." Jacob bumps me back. "Think I could?" Bella asks us,s till staring at them. My eyes widen. "Man, first motorcycles, now cliff diving?" He questions my sister.

"You said it was a rush."

"Maybe on a warmer day. And not from the top. We'll leave the howling off to Sam and his disciples." Bitterness. We both look at him.

"You don't like them." Bella states. "They think they run this place. Acting all bad ass, calling themselves "protectors." Jacob scoffs, putting his hands in his pockets. "What are they protecting?"

"The tribe, the land, their right to be jerks. Embry used to call them hall monitors on steroids; now look at him." Jacob points at them. Bella and I look closer to see Embry, now with short hair.

Another turned... my face falls. "That's Embry? I didn't recognize him. What happened to him?" Bella looks back at him. "He missed some school- then out of nowhere. He's following Sam around. Same thing happened with Paul and Jared. They weren't even friends, now Sam owns them. Sam keeps giving me this look, like he's waiting for me or something. It's kinda freaking me out." Jacob tells us, well more to Bella. If only he knew what was really happening between them.

"Maybe you should just avoid them." Bella says.

"I try but..." I watch her observe him them hug him reassuringly. "Hey. If it gets worse, we'll go to my Dad. Or you can come stay with us." She looks at him, then he glances over to me and I nod, agreeing with her.

"Thanks." He holds onto her. "If this is how you're going to react, I'll freak out more often." He smirks, ruining the moment for Bella.

She playfully shoves him. I then look over to the cliff again. Sam is already directly staring at us.

Once he makes eye contact with me though he dives over the edge.

Masterlist

A&J M.L.

Taglist: if you want to be added lmk

@stevenandmarcslove

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@kisekihany

@aureliacorvina

@l3ejm

[moonlightspencie]

6 with dean winchester, oh pls🥹

OUCH just thinking about it. he is so baby, this is a hurt-comfort fluff fest

send me a number and a character!

6. “be gentle, please.”

pairing: dean winchester x reader

warnings: non-descriptive owies on sam and dean

To say you were annoyed was an understatement.

Dean just had to push your buttons until you burst on him last night. Knowing that you had a thing for him. It was one thing to mess with you years ago, but now?

There was no way he didn’t know.

And he had the nerve to call you in on the hunt that you had wanted to opt out of. You stayed behind for a reason, but he just had to call. Now, you were stomping up the steps to some creaky old house, chasing after who-knows-what. Probably a demon. But since when couldn’t those two boys handle a demon by themselves?

You pushed open the front door, creeping through the house. Eventually you made it to some grand living room, scanning over the area. Then, you saw Dean.

Memories of a fight were the last thing to occupy your mind when you saw him crumpled in on himself against the wall.

“Dean,” you called out, entering the room.

He was still out cold when you reached him, a hand immediately going to the side of his face.

“Dean?” you said, this time your voice softer.

He groaned, slowly coming to. You watched carefully as he finally opened his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was you in the room with him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t have gone in alone.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” you said softly, still stroking his face.

Sam burst through a moment later, calling for Dean. You looked up as he finally got into the room.

“What happened?” you questioned.

Sam sighed. “I killed it.”

He helped you get Dean into the car, and eventually into the motel room they were staying at. Sam had one nasty cut, but he assured you he could take care of it himself no matter how much you offered a helping hand. He walked into the bathroom to fix himself up, leaving you with Dean.

You looked at him as he sat on the bed with his head in his hands. You moved around the room, getting him some water and your migraine meds, figuring that it would probably work better than expired ibuprofen. You sat next to him on the bed, handing the items over.

“This should help a little, but you’re definitely concussed,” you said, keeping your voice quiet. “Sam and I are gonna have to keep an eye on you until tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Though, I didn’t really do much,” you replied with a light laugh.

“This is plenty,” he said, finally looking at you.

You winced, seeing the cut above his eyebrow. It was bruised, and at least needed to be cleaned. You instructed him to wait, grabbing some of your first aid supplies and meeting him back on the mattress.

“This’ll probably sting,” you said, wiping at the cut with a wipe.

He winced, trying to pull away.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“I want to. I care about you, and you could use someone to do that right about now.”

He sighed. “I could do it myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Especially not with a concussion. Let me take care of you.”

He looked at you, eyes shining in the low light. You swallowed, stopping your motions for a moment.

“What?” you questioned.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cause a fight yesterday.”

You sighed. “I know you didn’t. I just— It’s hard when you tease me like that. You know all the ways to get me… frustrated.”

He smirked. “I know. I’m sorry. I know I’m annoying sometimes, I just really—”

“You’re not annoying. You just… push my buttons”

“It’s hard not to when you’re always fake flirting with me,” he stated as you started cleaning him up again. “It’s hard on a guy.”

You laughed humorlessly. Fake. As if he didn’t know.

“We both know that’s not fake, Winchester.”

“Be gentle, please,” he said quietly, just above a whisper.

You pulled your hand away.

“Am I hurting you?” you asked, looking between him and the cut.

He took your wrist, moving your hand away as he shook his head.

“No. With me. Be gentle,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed. “I have had a thing for you forever. Please don’t mess with me saying you’re actually flirting. That’s not fair.”

You softened immediately. “What?”

“I know we joke and get under each others skin, but I’m just asking that you don’t actually screw with my heart.”

“Dean, that’s not…” you trailed, furrowing your brow. “I’m not lying. I thought you knew?”

“Knew what?” he asked, looking at you in confusion.

“You don’t remember? Last year I told you I had a thing for you.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said cautiously.

“I did. We were at the bunker in the kitchen, throwing back shots, and I told you. You just kind of laughed and then Cas came in so we stopped talking,” you explained. “I thought we’d talk about it the next day, but you acted like it never happened.”

“Uh, yeah, probably because I was blacked out. I would’ve remembered that, I promise you.”

You sighed, dropping your head. “Shit.”

“You mean it?” he asked after a beat.

You nodded, not saying anything. He grabbed your hand, taking the wipe from it and tossing it onto the night stand before holding it in his own.

“Dude, I have practically been head-over-heels for you forever.”

You laughed, looking at him. “Dude?”

“I don’t know, I’m concussed, just—” he let out a breath, then smiled. “You’re one of my best friends. Have been for a while, and I wouldn’t mind changing that.”

You smiled again. “Only if you promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“We talk about it when you’re not concussed. I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

He smiled brightly. “Deal.”

[jennywritesz]

1.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

au where tsukishima is a scientist at college and you're his apprentice

740 words

warnings: none + slow burn

chap 1/ ??

Kei Tsukishima, a senior at college– a biologist with an aura of mystery, stepped into the laboratory with dread. Today marked the first encounter with his new apprentice, a moment he awaited with equal parts curiosity and annoyance. The thought of him having someone watch his every move made his skin crawl. As he adjusted his glasses, his eyes had a hint of mischief, already concocting a string of remarks to test the limits of his so-called apprentice. 

In the corner of the lab, amidst humming machinery and arrays of equipment, stood the young apprentice, (y/n). She obviously had determination, her eyes gleaming in an intellectual frenzy. Your presence was a stark contrast to Dr. Tsukishima's sternness, yet there was a hint of shared intellect that was possibly the start of a great partnership. 

“You must be Miss (y/n) I presume?” His voice cutting through the quiet laboratory hum. 

You nodded, offering a wide grin. “Yes, Tsukishima, it’s such an honor to work for you.” 

He turned around and went back to work, motioning for you to come observe. You stood on your tippy toes trying to get the best possible angle, he took notice of this. You sighed in annoyance.

“Too short to see the table?” He grinned to himself. You felt your face heating up with embarrassment. You slightly nodded, feeling all your pride leave your body. In this instance you didnt think height would be such an important factor, but considering he was doing a presicion experiment and he had to have the table basically up to his chest– height was a major factor.

He would never admit this out loud but, he thought it was kind of cute. Maybe this apprenticeship would work out. You had heard plenty of stories from past colleauges about how mean and rude he was, but you didnt think it to be true.

“That must suck.” He snickered. 

You thought wrong.

“I see why people call you so salty.” you remarked back.

They dont call him salty, you just felt the need to say that.

“Salty?” He glared down at you, you forgot how scary he was.

You said nothing in response, just stared at him in defiance. 

“Cat mustve gotten your tongue.” He looked away and continued his experiment, lowering the table so you could see. Maybe he wasnt so bad after all. 

You never really had gotten to know him. You had just heard stories and seen him in pass you in the hallway. Even then he didnt seem so bad. He always had this mysterious allure that made him sort of attractive, your friends never even bothered to hear you out; they wouldnt get it. You always watched him from afar, and now youre working for him, it feels kind of weird to be working for someone thats only a year older than you– he was good at what he does though.

“Are you even listening to me?” he scoffed in disbelief. This snapped you out of your trance.

“Of course im listening! Why wouldnt I be.” you rolled your eyes. You werent listening, but you cant let him know that.

“Oh really..” he paused. “Well then, I want an essay on how beneficial each finger is to the body. Turned in tomorrow.” 

Your jaw dropped. Who does he think he is? Some teacher?!

“Err.. of course.” your voice had an underlying tone of disapproval.

He took his goggles off and lowered the table completely.

“Help me clean this up.” he ordered.

You didnt realize you had spaced out that entire procedure. What kind of apprentice are you. Clearly a lousy one. 

As you finished cleaning everything up, you noticed Tsukishima struggling to wrap a bandage around his hand. You wondered what happened to him. You didnt realize it, but you were staring at him pretty intensely. 

“I cut my hand on the door handle yesterday, they finally fixed it after that.” He said with a straight face, that almost convinced you to hold his face.

“Do you need help with the bandage?” Your eyes widened at your own response. What came over you?

“Ill be fine.” he said back with a monotone voice.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, again. How many times can one embarras themself? 

“You can go now.” That was his way of saying leave now.

You took off your lab coat and grabbed your regular jacket and headed out for the night.