#I’m cold and just want to sit down and do the crossword

[drapopia]

quiet night in

pairing: papa emeritus i x reader

warnings/potential triggers: none that i am aware of! i am always willing to add anything to this if someone mentions something!

summary: After a busy day away from one another, the only thing you want is him beside you. And maybe a small nap as well.

author's note: my first ghost fic/drabble! i am a little anxious to share this, to be quite honest. i just want to curl up with this ancient satanic pope (said lovingly)... peemo my love, come close! truly though, i just felt like sharing some soft times with primo, because truly, who doesn't want that? my inbox is always welcome to thoughts!

word count: 1,073

-----

“Hmm…” You say, leaning in closer to peer over the edge of the paper held firmly in Papas’ hands. “I am clueless, truly.” 

He chuckles, tapping the pencil lazily against the paper. “Think harder, amore. I’m sure we can figure it out if we put ourselves to the task.” 

You sigh, leaning in closer to rest your head in the crook of his arm. You’re perched against his arm, propped up against the smooth silk of his matching maroon pajama set. Your eyes lazily scan the room, thinking to yourself. Primo and you often spent your weeknights poring over the crossword puzzle when you weren’t both exhausted from your daily tasks. When you weren’t posturing back and forth to one another over the possible solution, you were leaning in closer and closer to the warmth of one another.

You sigh once more, your arm reaching out of the warmth of his duvet, fluffed and warmed by Primo as he waited for you to exit your shower earlier. Your hand reaches out to grab his own, inspecting it with a soft smile. The wrinkles on his hands were still golden, although winter had not loosened its grip on the Abbey yet. And still Papa worked his way through the greenhouse, crooning sweet praises to his flowers that thrived in the humid air of the building. His hand closed around yours, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a delicate kiss to the center of your palm. He smiled, his eyes closed as he reclined against the pillows on your shared bed. 

“Have you thought of it yet?” He said softly, making sure not to disturb your leisured slump against his arm. 

You hum, looking over at the paper. “We’re still working on seven down, correct?” 

“Si.” He smiles, pointing delicately with his pencil and tracing over it up and down. “The description is: a shared term for a ghost.” 

“How many words, letters?” You ask curiously.

“One word, seven letters.” He says softly, sinking further in the sheets with a quiet groan. You sit up slightly, wordlessly pulling the blankets closer to him. You thought for a second of getting up to grab the ointment from his bedside table, but you knew it would bring him less comfort than usual. The cold had sunk into his bones, and he would not enjoy the stickiness of the balm on his skin. He had complained occasionally of the balm not sinking into his skin. This gave him an opportunity to purr into your ear of just how well you would rub it in. Sometimes it would end with a giggle and a teasing smack to the arm to scold him, and other times… Well, Primo was a charming man. 

“Lay back down, petal.” He murmured, wrapping his arm around you as you settled back into the sheets. Primo’s arm curled around you, his thumb rubbing small circles into your arm. 

“Do you have any thoughts, Papa?” You asked quietly, looking back down at the crossword. 

“I have a few, but I would like to hear your own first before we discuss.” He chuckles, beginning to tap his pencil against the side of the puzzle once more.

“What about… wraith?” You ask, looking down at the paper and then shaking your head. No, that was only six letters. “No, never mind. Give me a minute.” 

“All the time in the world, amore. Or at least until we drift asleep.” He smiles, letting his head drop slowly to rest on top of your own. Your eyes drift to the room around you. Although you had shared this room for what felt like an eternity, the space still screamed of Papa Emeritus the First. While Terzo and Secondo preferred to boast of luxury and extravagant purchases, Primo liked to let his own taste, refined over decades, speak for itself. The four poster bed obscured the few vintage lamps that sat in the room, casting the room in a cozy, dazed ambiance. 

“Perhaps… it is phantom?” He asked softly, shaking his head after a moment. “It is enough letters, but I’m sure we can come up with something more elegant, no?” He chuckles hoarsely, and you lean up to gaze at him. He was always handsome, dizzyingly gorgeous. The darkened room only seemed to deepen the creases in his face, his crows feet crinkled as he smiled gently to himself in thought. You relax further against him, butterflies in your stomach. His eyes dart downwards, his smile more fond than before. “You’re grinning, does my answer amuse you?” 

“Oh no, but I do agree. We should think of something more fancy, such as…” You think, and then begin to giggle to yourself. “What about ‘ghoulie’, perhaps?” 

He laughs, his chest rumbling against your cheek. “And what is a ghoulie?” 

“Far worse than anything you’ve ever known, Papa, a supernatural being only whispered about by fellow siblings. How unfortunate that you’ve never heard these rumors.” You giggle, a small blush heating your cheeks. 

“Is that so, petal?” He asks, his smile softening in the warm light of his bedroom. “I shall have to look more into these spectres that I seem to have never heard about. Even in all my years, not one whisper.” He chuckles gently. 

You snicker to yourself, your hand gripping his own with care. And then, you understand. You gasp, looking at the paper and raising your hand to tap at the crossword. “Spectre! What about that?” 

He gazes at the paper, his hand rising to push his reading glasses further up his nose. He taps the small boxes going down, counting quietly to himself. His eyes light up, and his hand scribbles in ‘specter’ into the empty box. “Quite right, so smart.” Primo says gently, pressing a delicate kiss against the top of your head. You smile, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his praise. 

“Primo, you’re the one who said it.” You whisper, your eyes still closed as the dark washes over you. The weight of the day is felt on your shoulders, gently melting off in the comforting embrace of your lover. Your arms wrap around him with a small grunt, your cheek against his chest. Vaguely you feel his arms rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head once more. What you don’t see is Primo gazing at you, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear with a lovesick sigh, barely discernible amongst your soft breathing as the day winds to an end. 

[nach0]

pulling on a frayed rope

Summary:

Iris is getting tired of Jacqueline bothering her about wing care. It’s her business what she does with them.

Tensions rise.

Things get said that cannot be taken back.

Ao3 Link

Word Count: 885

Previous

Iris stormed into the cafeteria, rubbing her forehead and ignoring the looks she was getting from the diners inside. Maybe if she went somewhere public she would have the self-control to not murder Jacqueline.

“Please, can you just stop for a moment?”

“What, no sir?” She snarked, going to her usual table and pulling out her crossword book. Everything about her body language and expression screamed ‘go away, don’t talk to me.’

“The word is tetrapod,” Jacqueline said after a glance, sitting down next to her. She didn’t flinch as the book was slammed shut. “This is serious. You need to talk to someone about it, even if you’re pushing me away.”

(Iris knew she would regret not writing it down later. She never got the science words.)

She glanced around. There were stares, but from mostly unfamiliar faces. No chance of being ganged up on.

Her eye twitched at the concern she could practically feel clogging the air. What she did with her wings was her own business, and the nagging was getting on her already tight nerves.

“Just leave me alone.”

That came out more tired than she’d meant. It only increased Jacqueline’s pity.

“If something’s wrong I’m sure we can stop missions for a while-”

“Enough.”

Iris slowly stood. Usually she was far shorter, but their positions allowed her to glare down.

“What the hell do you think happens if missions stop? If I say I need a break?”

Jacqueline shuffled back slightly, opening her mouth to respond. But Iris cut her off.

“The team dies. They’re looking for any excuse to shut it down, and the leader being unstable is the perfect reason. Or maybe they just grab another kid. Another thirteen year old, powers they never wanted, turned into a murderer for the foundation’s greed.”

They were getting stared at. Site guards were glancing at each other, unsure of whether to interfere.

She no longer cared.

“Sir- Iris- I had no idea...”

“I know you didn’t. Because you have no idea what it was like back then. What it could be like if we don’t keep our heads down and follow orders.”

She flared her wings, framing her face in blood red. The cut and pulled feather ends were clear for all the onlookers to see, which by now was everyone in the room. She’d done it roughly and quickly, a rag in her mouth to prevent her from crying out in the dark of a mission safehouse.

Jacqueline, with her own feathers puffed up, stood. Looked down at her sadly. Let out a small, sad, sigh.

Her anger turned cold.

“Why don’t I tell you exactly what would happen if I skipped even one mission.”

The shaking rage in her voice was the only emotion, making it otherwise flat.

“Everyone who wants our team gone swoops in. We have no reason to leave our cells anymore. Oh, you have your tests, but they can muscle you into those. Why bother rewarding you for cooperating?”

There was loud chatter that died down slowly at it got closer. Iris didn’t bother to look at whoever had just come in.

“Our doors get locked. No roaming, no cafeteria, nothing except those four walls. You can say goodbye to anything you’ve been given. Too expensive to bother giving skips that aren’t useful anything to do.”

“Iris.” Jacqueline cut in; tone full of an emotion Iris can’t bother to identify. “Maybe we should move this somewhere private.”

She scoffed. “You were the one who started this here. So I’ll be the one to finish it. You protest these changes. You’re a person, you shout at them. You never did anything wrong.”

She glared at her, but her eyes were focused on something that wasn’t there.

“They laugh at you. Because you’re wrong. You haven’t been a person since you stepped foot in this place. They let you think you are until you’re not a compliant little puppet. And when your strings are cut? You’re left willing to do anything to get a semblance of normalcy. Even something you almost escaped to avoid doing.”

Iris turned away and pulled her wings tightly to herself. She didn’t meet anyone else’s eyes.

“Go back to your cell, 1985. You’ll be called when needed.”

Jacqueline let out a sharp gasp and Iris’ eyes widened with regret, whirling around and reaching out. “Wait, Jackie I didn’t-”

“Yes sir.”

Iris watched her walk out, flinching when she realised Stacy and Leora were watching her in shock from the doorway.

They both followed Jackie without a word.

She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there before a guard escorted her back to her cell, the clank of the lock ringing loudly in the empty space.

No use getting attached to objects that can be taken. She’d told herself years ago.

Now she would kill for a distraction.

She pulled her jacket off, running a thumb over the Alpha-9 logo stitched into the sleeve. She knew if she pulled it off, the other one would be underneath it.

On the other side sat the foundation’s symbol. The same symbol on every guard’s uniform, every researcher’s lab coat.

The symbol worn by everyone who had ever belittled her, dehumanised her, made her feel like nothing.

And now she was just like them.

[witchofinterest]

Wip Day!

I was tagged by the lovely and talented @water-writings thank you mel!

With s3 on the horizon, I have the umbrella academy on the brain, so here’s some of a new oc, Billie!

tagging: @nolanhollogay @perhapspearlocs @heathersocs @richitozier @twinmasks @honeyandsunflowers (forgot how to spell your oc blog name! sorry!) @darknightfrombeyond @come-along-pond and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

“You were shaking-“ whatever Diego was going to end his sentence with was cut off as Billie’s head stacked memories on eachother.

Her mother, her original mother, with her shoulders shaking in the cold of their backyard. Five holding his hands over a fire, shaking as he tried to get warm. Klaus shaking as he went through withdraws, head snapping to the side. Her father, her newest father, and his shaking hands as he did the crossword.

Sitting down, she put her head in her hands. Too many memories, too many lives.

“You okay?” Five asked, hand coming up to support her back.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, giving him a smile. He didn’t return it.

“I know Diego can be a lot, but people don’t usually have to sit down because of it.” he pointed out, using his other hand to hold hers. She laughed lightly, wishing she could turn around to see if he’d heard it.

“It’s just uh. My memories are stacking on top of each other. I have too many from the same time of my life,” she explained, watching his face fall.

“It doesn’t need a solution now, we’ll solve it after the apocalypse,” she promised, giving his hand a squeeze.

“We will, and then it won’t matter. Because your not dying again, not for a long time,” Five sealed his promise with a kiss to her hand.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she reminded him, holding his hand a little tighter.

“I’m not,”

“So boy genius, what’s the next part of the plan?” Diego asked, plopping down next to them.

“Why don’t you go spend some time with your own girlfriend and let us figure that out?” Billie teased, watching as Diego got progressively more tense.

“She’s not my girlfriend. God, I forgot why I hated both of you,” Diego said, standing up and walking out of sight.

[jackie5656]

Liar//II

With;Frank Castle (Punisher)

A/N:Another one! I have an idea for Matt too so hopefully that’s coming soon. This was originally just a drabble but it developed into a sequel for my first Frank story. Make sure to read that first here. Wanted to thank you all for the support and I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Frank kind of being an asshole but in an “I love you.” Typa way. Suggestive actions/humor maybe?

“You stuck?” You smirk at your boyfriends frustrated gaze at the newspaper in hand. Rubber of the eraser to the overused pencil running across his lip as he nods. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d agree to sleep in and do the crossword with you on lazy Sunday mornings. Today being one of them. Except you just so happened to be in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

“Four across,” he shifts the paper so you can move closer and get a good look, “Anjou, Bosc, and barlette.” You hum knowingly, sure of your answer as soon as he’s finished.

“Pears.” You suggest simply, giggling when he mutters a curse as he scratches the answer down.

“I was thinking.”

He hums into his mug, eyes only leaving the crossword puzzle for a quick glance at you.

“You could teach me some of that fighting stuff you do.” His movements falter as he looks more intently at you. Going back to the page to avoid your suggestion.

“It’s researchers do a lot of looking up.”

“How many spaces?” He takes a moment to count, the numbers leaving his lips in a rushed whisper.

“Nine.” You take a moment to think, biting on your lip in consideration. He smiles in adoration. With the winter sun peaking in through the blinds at the early hour, all your features are illuminated by its golden shine.

“Astrology?” You cock your head in question, laughing when he pats the exposed skin connecting your leg and hip.

“Attagirl. Of course you knew what it’d be. With all your ‘star signs’ and shit.”

“Says the Scorpio man.”

“Not really an insult if I don’t know what it means, doll.”

You take a spoonful of cereal that’s rested on your lap. Criss-crossed legs with a knee resting on his stomach. He has another sip of coffee , pretending not to feel your hopeful gaze burning into him as he continues the puzzle. Eventually, he gives in, becoming invested in your sudden curiosity.

“So you’re interested in the fighting stuff, yeah?” He laughs, eyes narrowing when he realizes you’re genuine. He sits up in bed, leaving the paper on his lap and setting his dink aside. He adjusts himself, leaning up against the bed frame to notify you’ve grabbed his full attention.

“You’re serious?”

“Very. Just in case, you know? I always wanted to be able to defend myself and now I have the opportunity.”

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” His eyes lock on yours, thumb coming up to rub over your cheek. You don’t mean to insult him, careful of your choice of words as you nod. He’d quite literally take a bullet for you, hell, a dozen if it meant you’d be safe. 

“Always. But if we ever were in a tough spot, I’d rather not just be the damsel in distress.” 

“Alright, get dressed then.”

“What, like…Now?” You watch as he stalks to the dresser, picking out a new pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Beginning to add the layers almost immediately. 

“Yes, now. When else?”

“A-alright. Didn’t think you’d agree so easy.” You follow after him, picking out some clothes you think would be best to move in.

*********

It’s bitter cold outside, your breath coming out in smokey clouds as you follow Frank to a soft patch of grass in the yard.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to.”

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

You hit the ground with a thud for the fourth time in a row, groaning when the back of your head thumps against the dirt.

“Christ.” You mutter through clenched teeth, glaring at his smirk above you.

“Told you I wouldn’t go easy, cmon.” He offers a hand, but you refuse. Scrambling up and getting back into what you think is a good stance. He motions for you to attack, and you attempt a punch to his chest. He swiftly blocks with his forearm, leg wrapping around yours to knock you out from under yourself.

“Fuck.”

“Your feet aren’t planted, and those shoulders aren’t squared. You’re completely open to an attack.”

“Yeah, yeah.” In truth, you’d expected this to be a lot more of cheeky competition than simply getting your ass beat. And you knew Frank would take it seriously, but this was nothing more than getting your ass kicked for the sake of being bored.

Frank wanted you to be prepared. Of course, he’d enjoy the suggestive actions and humor that usually went along with this type of activity. But he’d known, better than most, that using these skills was at time a mater of life and death. He’d been bargaining for months with himself whether or not he should teach you a few moves just in case. It made sense, and if he was going to teach you, he was gonna do it right. Even if it meant pissing you off.

“You angry?” He moves his head to meet your eyes, you avert yours from his. Using the sleeve of your jacket to wipe at your running nose. You only shrug, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Admittedly, you thought this was going to be a lot more fun.

“Answer me. You mad, huh?” He pushes at your shoulder, and you know he’s only doing it to egg you on.

“Yes!” You reply sternly, squaring up again when he nods.

“Good, use it. Don’t let the emotion get the best of you. Channel it. Let your body do the thinking. Get out of that pretty head of yours.” He goes to tap your temple, brows raising in shock when you deflect with your forearm just as he had.

“Attagirl.” Your anger grows when your heart flutters at his praise. Resenting the piece of yourself that’s ecstatic at his impressed gaze. “Now come at me again, and this time go for my joints. Where I’ll be weakest.”

“If I wanted to hit a weak spot, I’d ask you a crossword clue.” You mutter to yourself, gasping when you hit the ground again. Glaring up at him. 

“Ha-Ha,” he feigns amusement at your wit “you like getting knocked on your ass, sweetheart?” He crouches down, clearly satisfied with your failure.

“Only when it’s you, asshole. Maybe you’d like to actually teach me instead of...whatever this is.” It’s times like these you wish you could call Matt. Anticipate some kung-fu master wisdom that could finally give you the upper-hand. But considering you hadn’t spoken in two months, a quick call for combat advice likely wasn’t the best ice breaker. Still, you take a moment to think what he would do in this situation. When you’re up again, Frank tries to take hold of your wrist. You shove at his arm in one swift motion, using the other to attempt to twist his arm. He slips out of it again, shock enabling you to try one hard push at his chest in attempt to get him down. He doesn’t even falter, but stops his advances with a few proud claps.

“Aye, that was good!”

“You’re too big!” You whine, exhausted at the effort and just about ready to call it quits. 

“So I’ve heard.”

“Classy, really. Can we be done now?”

“You’re the one that wanted to learn.”

“And you’re one hell of a teacher. But I’m cold, and my pride has taken more hits than my body has at this point.”

“Alright, I’ve been a bit harsh.”

“Tell that to my bruised tailbone.” He chuckles, hands going to your cheeks to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I can show you how to use my size against me. Knock me down and look all bad ass, promise. Just another couple minutes out here, yeah?” You melt at the hopeful look in his eyes, rolling your eyes with a small nod.

********

You ended up learning a lot yesterday, inquiring about more moves and techniques any chance you could get. When you were taking Max on a walk through the forest, watching a movie, reading on opposite ends of the couch. There wasn’t much to do up here anyway. And with Frank’s intel, whoever had found out he was actually alive and still in New York, was still looking for him. He’d have to take care of it, but only after making sure you were settled in here and he had a good plan. If he hadn’t met you, Frank would have undoubtedly just beat the shit out of anyone until he got enough information to attack these guys. But he made a promise to you. Part of that promise being having a well-thought out plan before barging into a situation. 

“I’m alright Karen, really. All he said was it’d be safer if we got out for a couple days. But you know him, he’s gonna work it out. If he doesn’t drive me bat-shit in the process.” You rummage through the cabinets of the foreign kitchen in search of food, glancing at the body covered in the mess of blankets in the bedroom across the way.

“But it’s settled now, right? Things between you two?” Her voice over the phone is hopeful, you can hear papers shuffle around on the other line.

“If it’s one thing he’s good at, it’s making me forgive him. Still a stubborn pain in the ass though.”

“Comforting to know nothings changed.” You both laugh, a commotion on her end cocks your head.

“Can I talk to her now?”

“Foggy, we’re not done talking-hey!” The blondes voice fade as you wince at the louder, more enthusiastic one that rings into your ear.

“Where you been, y/n/n? We’ve been missing you!”

“Just a little vacation Foggy.”

“Everything alright with the old man? Heard their was a bad argument-ow! How was I supposed to know it was on the down low Karen?”

“Good to hear she’s keeping you in the loop.”

“Sorry! I wanted to know where you were and I kinda pried it outta her. You okay?”

“Peachy. Except I’m starving, and most food here is from a can or expired.”

“I’m guessing they don’t have takeout available?”

“I wish, but then our super secret location would be revealed,” you mock sweetly “I’m gonna head to the local grocery store. That is, if one exists. Is Matt around?”

“Matt? Um, went on a coffee break. You know him, ever the caffeine addict.”

“Y’know Foggy, despite being a lawyer you’re kind of a bad liar.”

“Y/n, I think your service is cutting out. I expect you to buy the first round next weekend when we get drinks. Love you, bye!”

The line drops before you can reply, stunned at his sudden farewell.

It was true, you had been friends with Matt first, having met him at Josie’s a couple years ago when you used to waitress there. It’s a distant memory, considering you both had careers now. It was a comfort, to have a regular customer that didn’t try to hit on you every chance he got. Foggy used to joke you were the only beautiful girl Matt hadn’t tried to sleep with. Your shared banter had established a friendship long before you met Frank. He’d introduced you to his colleagues at Nelson and Murdock, of course, informing them of the only bartender at the run-down bar that actually knew how to make a cocktail. The three of them were great friends, and you’d been grateful for all their kindness over the years. Up until you’d had a bit of a falling out with Matt. He’d resented your relationship with Frank since the beginning for obvious reasons. But he was a hypocrite, and a stubborn one at that. You’d argued there was no helping who you loved, precisely why you’d dealt with his other life with little to no argument. But Matt, afraid of losing yet another person he loves, in his classic self-destructive manner, was finally nasty enough to push you away for good this time. 

“I get it. You have need to fix anyone whose broken, think it’ll solve your own issues. But it won’t, and you’ll only get yourself hurt.”

“Ah yes, because I have a heart I’m weak. Logical as always, Matthew.”

“He’s only with you because he needs something, he’s lonely. Wants to have you stay by his side and clean up any mess he gets himself in.” Your stomach drops, and you continue the argument despite the burning lump in your throat as tears prick at your eyes. 

“You don’t mean that.”

“Like hell I don’t” He scoffs, licking his lips to get a taste of the poison escaping his mouth. 

“Then why’d you let me stick around, huh? Wanted someone to pick up all your messes too?”

“Isn’t that what this is?” He motions in the stagnant air between you of his office. He hears a tear drop onto your shirt, smells the salt from them leave your eyes. He knows he’s hurting you, pushing you away. But it’s easier this way. To force you to leave before you can abandon him. He’s practically a caged animal, showing his claws and shiny teeth in an attempt to mask all the fear. You know his tactics, but you let them get to you this time. Tired of fighting for something he’s trying so hard to break. 

“You really believe that? This is just an exchange of needs?” His heart breaks at the strangled pain in your voice, heart beating erratically at the realization the friendship you’ve both cherished for so long has been torn to threads. 

“You’re choosing him over me, Karen, and Foggy.”

“I can’t have both? Can’t love anyone other than you three?”

“You can’t love him! He’s a monster y/n, he hurts anyone who gets in his way without remorse.” His blood boils, the notion of losing one of his closest friends is too much to bear. And yet, he does his best to make sure you won’t come back this time.

“And what the fuck are you doing right now, Matt?” You point out the irony in his argument with a disingenuous laugh. He’s silent, mulling over your words with a heavy heart. 

“So you choose him, then?”

“If you’re gonna make it an ultimatum, I’m definitely not ‘choosing’ you.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Your pulse stutters, still in shock with how spiteful his tone is. It’s foreign,coming from him. Shatters your heart to a million pieces with how it’s all laced with such disgust. 

“You know what’s so funny about all of this? You’re angry because I love a man you think will hurt me, one you think has no morals. Even though every night you get in that suit to do as you please and call it justice. You don’t get to draw the line between black and white. Make your own rules and think everyone has to follow them. It’s bullshit. And Frank would never, ever do that to me.”

“Just go.” Is all he says, not letting the tears fall until he knows you’re out the door. Crumbling to the floor at the sound of your choked sobs from down the hall. 

*******

Frank shoots up in bed with a gasp, nightmare jolting him awake. He feels around for your warmth, wanting to hold you close so he can calm down. He’s greeted with Max instead, whining and pawing at his bare chest. 

“Gotta go outside, bud? I’ll take ya.” He rasps, yawing as he let’s the dog out into the yard. He doesn’t go to the bathroom though, instead sticks his nose into the grass and sniffs around like crazy.

“Weirdo.” Is all Frank says, headed towards the kitchen for coffee. 

“You in the bathroom, baby?” There’s no answers to his shout, and his stomach drops. Max rushes into the cabin, pacing and whining as if he too knows something is wrong. There’s a sticky note on the counter under a recently used mug. 

“Went to buy some actual food and wanted to let you sleep in. Be back soon! <3” He’s almost relieved until he looks at the clock, cursing at the sight that it’s almost noon. He never sleeps in this late, and judging by the now cold cup of coffee, you had to have left long enough for you to be back by now. 

He scrambles into the bedroom to find his phone. Panic coursing through his body as his breathing becomes erratic. 

“Not this. Please, God, not again.” Is all that runs through his mind. Shortness of breath about to bring him to his knees as the line rings once, twice, three agonizing times before you pick up. 

“Christ, you scared the shit out of me. Where the hell are you?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing, Mr. Castle. But I’m quite sure you wouldn’t give me a truthful answer.” A heavy Irish accent laces the menacing tone, and Franks shift from panicked to enraged in mere seconds. The Kitchen Irish we’re somehow still standing, and apparently eager for revenge.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Can’t say that’s important, Mr. Castle. Where your lady friend is, though, I’m sure you’d like to know.”

“I’m gonna kill you, fucking leprechaun bastard. You hear me? You even think about touching her I swear to God I’ll rip your fucking eyes out of their sockets. Make you beg for-”

“Now, now. Let’s be smart, here. I have something you want, don’t I? Wouldn’t want to lose her over some rude comments.”

“If you even-”

“I think I should be doing the talking. Mr. Castle. Or else the first eyes being gouged here will be hers. She sure is a pretty one, I’d have to admit you have good taste.” There’s distant commotion in the background, an echoed scream that’s suddenly cut off. Frank feels the bile rise in his throat, choking down the nausea in an attempt to remain intimidating.

“What do you want?” Is all he rasps, shaking with all the overwhelming emotion. 

“Much better. I think you’ll come to learn that you fuck with one Irish-man, you quarrel with them all.”

“Y-you’re supposed to be dead.”

“I think I could say the same to you, no?”

“Whatever shit you have with me, you keep her out of it. Let her go and we can can handle this as men.” 

“Let’s not act like this wasn’t already personal, Castle. You made it so when you killed my brothers. We’re in the city, your little hideout was a bit a drive’s away and that bitch was fighting the entire ride here. She’s a feisty one, I’ll give her that.”

“Get to the point. What the fuck do you want?”

“I want your fucking head. Your blood splattered on these fucking walls like that of my brothers. I want you to pay, and you will. You’ll know where to find us if you talk to the right people. Time is ticking, Castle, don’t keep the lady waiting too long.”

“You fucking-” The line drops before Frank can get another word out, and he throws the phone across the room so it shatters against the wall as a blood curdling, rasped, scream escapes his throat. He stumbles against the wall, legs turning into jelly as he holds back the vomit begging to leave his body at the pure shock of it all. His worst nightmare is happening all over again, he’s failed you. With struggled gasps, forced intakes of breaths, the man collects himself in moments. Letting the rage consume him and bring him back into focus. 

He gathers whatever he needs and is in the car in minutes. Max curling in the passenger seat where you’d usually be. Looking to Frank with heartbreaking eyes. 

“We’re gonna get her back, I promise.” Is all he whispers, his own tears threatening to leave his eyes before he’s ripping out of the gravel driveway and speeding down the dirt road. No matter what it takes, he’ll make sure whatever cruel god that hates him so much wont be able to have history repeat itself. He’ll get you back, no matter the cost. That’s a promise. 

Part one

Part three

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Road to Healing

Gif is not mine.

Summary: The one where you and Wanda travel around the country while grieving together. / Inspired by road trip-themed movies.

Read Complete work on AO3 too.

Warnings> Explicit language (cursing) , mentions of death, grieve and panic attacks. Mainly fluff and sad.

Words:  4.299K (Oneshot)

When Thanos won, you didn't have time to grieve. Immediately on the battlefield, you were responsible for helping to heal the wounded. And you were exhausted when it was over.

And then S.H.I.E.L.D. was triggered, and you knew they would take Vision if they found him. You thought Wanda wouldn't want that. And you ignored the intense pain you felt at the thought of her, and repeated to yourself that you wouldn't want that either. So you used Tony's technology to bring Vision's body back to the Avengers compound. And then you told them that Thanos had destroyed him along with the jewel, and that's what they wrote in their reports.

When you finally returned home, you only slept after you had organized a memorial for him. You didn't ask your colleagues to participate. The remaining avengers just seemed empty. So you left them alone.

Your hands trembled when you touched the knob of Wanda's room. You were looking for a picture of Vis. You found it eventually. When you left the room, your shirt was wet with your tears.

You thought Vision would like a view of the sea. So you left his body in a black wooden coffin, and buried it on the edge of the hill a few meters from the exit of the complex. You figured that Vision wasn't religious, so you just used the 3D printer to create a little iron plate, and stuck it against the ground. 

You could not sleep that night. And the next. When you finally did, your panic attacks started. But the emergency calls started coming in, and you knew you had no time for grief. The world needed you now.

You learned to deal with the panic, but the nightmares continued. So you accepted more assignments, until you were too exhausted to dream. And then you got used to it. 

And like the snap of a finger, five years passed. 

When you defeated Thanos, you fell to your knees. You couldn't find Natasha. And then you couldn't breathe. You realize what was happening, you knew they were back. But you can't go through this again. Because the world needs you again. And then you calm down, and you stand up. And then you are walking.

Steve doesn't come back. You think you hear Bucky crying in his room. But you don't say anything, because he doesn't like to talk about it. 

You take Wanda to the tomb of Vision two days before Tony's funeral. She sobs against you as you hug her, your own tears preventing you from seeing your surroundings clearly. You haven't left her side since.

After Tony's funeral is over, you destroy the items in your room with a bat. When you fall to the ground, Wanda sits beside you quietly, and holds your hand. She doesn't mind you shouting Nat's name along with your sobs.

- I can't stay here anymore. - You tell her the next night, while you are in your room. - I can't breathe in this place. - You confess with tears on your face. - I feel like I'm going to die. 

Wanda intertwines your hands. 

- Let's leave then.

You let out a long sigh, trying to control your tears. And then you nod.

Your mood improves considerably once you are out of the compound. You don't think about Nat, or Tony, or Steve, because if you do, your hands start to shake. But you think about healing. You think about being there for your best friend. 

And then you decide to live. And you hold both of Wanda's hands when you tell her that you are going to travel. Travel to all the places she hasn't visited in the United States.

You want to remember that there are still things to live for. You want Nat to be proud of you.

When Wanda nods in agreement, you smile, and hug her. And then you get a truck, and you let Wanda hold the map.

It is hot and humid, and you drum your fingers against the steering wheel, humming softly the pop song playing on the radio.

Wanda fell asleep against the passenger seat some time ago, and it has been a few hours since you left the small motel where you were staying after leaving the Avengers compound.

You are hungry, so you stop the car at the first dinner you find. The loss of movement of the vehicle awakens Wanda.

- Hey sleepyhead. - You joke as you take out your key, and look for your wallet in the glove compartment. - Let's go get something to eat.

You walk to the diner, which is practically empty. Wanda doesn't seem to be fully awake yet, but smiles at you when she catches you looking. You sit down on opposite sides of the table.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon, and pancakes, please. - You tell the waitress, and Wanda gives you a curious look. She orders cereal and chocolate waffles.

- Why are we having breakfast for dinner? - she asks with a smile.

You shrug, laughing lightly.

- It's always time for pancakes.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and you look back. And then you are having a blinking contest. The waitress gives you a judgmental look when she interrupts the game, but you and Wanda smile and thank her for the food.

You finish eating first, and are distracted by one of the crossword puzzle magazines that the restaurant leaves under the tables. 

- Hey, Wands, help me with this one. - You say slightly distracted as you run your pencil across the paper. - "One word. Destined for belonging. Companionship. Devotion" Do you have any idea what it is?

- Soulmates. - Wanda says before chewing another piece of waffle. You let out a contented exclamation when the word fits, and smile at her, who just winks at you, smiling back.

- Does this taste good? - you ask, watching her eat. She nods, pushing her plate toward you. Wanda hands you her own fork to taste the waffles. They are very good, but you don't want to eat any more.

You can't finish your crossword puzzle, and you return the magazine to the table compartment before you leave the restaurant.

And then it is Wanda's turn to drive. You sit in the passenger seat, and turn up the radio as you get back on the road. You wish you could stay awake at night to keep Wanda company, but it only takes four songs for you to fall asleep. 

It is morning when you arrive in Virgina. And it is cold enough for you to wrap Wanda in a scarf when she refuses to warm up properly. She just laughs with flushed cheeks when you let her go. You rent a room with two beds, and after you shower, Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You are browsing through the channels when she comes back with a towel wrapped in her hair, she smells good even from a distance.

- Do you want to go out to eat, or do you want to order a pizza? - you ask.

- Pizza. - She replies as she lies down on the bed.

You need to go out and look for a pay phone, because both of your cell phones are off and in the bottom of one of the boxes you are carrying in the truck.

- Shall we watch a movie? - she asks when you come back into the room. 

- Comedy or horror? - You counter with a question as you kick off your shoes. Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully.

- Both.

You smile as you hang your coat on the door.

You have been watching "Scary Movie" for twenty minutes when the pizza arrives. Wanda pauses the movie while you stand up and pay the delivery man.

She uses her powers to drag the coffee table into the space between the two beds, and you place the pizza on top of the wood and sit cross-legged on Wanda's bed.

Eventually, you finish the pizza and wipe your hands with napkins. And then Wanda lets the movie sequence continue, and you remain in her bed with the excuse that it was cold. You fall asleep at the end of the second film, but you wake up in the early morning hours with Wanda's hand against your waist. You don't think you should get used to the feeling, so you get up and go back to your bed.

Wanda cries when you arrive in Virginia Beach. You know it is the view of the sea, which reminded her of the tomb of Vision. You stand silently beside her as you entwine your hands. Wanda doesn't let go until you get back to the car.

It's cold, and you shouldn't have ice cream. But you do it anyway. You and Wanda stop at a drive-thru, and have your milkshakes while you drive toward Tennessee.

You let her have the rest of your ice cream even though she's had many tastes already.

On one of the roads, you stop the car on the roadside. You try to normalize your breathing. 

- I'm here. - She says next to you in a gentle voice, as she lets you squeeze her hand over your lap. - You are safe. 

You exchange directions for a while. 

- So you have never been to Disney? - You ask between one lighthouse and another, somewhere in North Carolina.

Wanda denies it with a smile and a nod. She has only one hand on the wheel, and her hair is shining in the sun. You scold yourself for looking.

- Since we can't afford Disney, we should pick something cheap to do - You tell her while looking at one of the tour guides you found at the motel.

- I don't mind just driving around. - she says. You bite the smile from your lips.

- Yeah, me neither.

It takes two weeks for you to talk about Natasha. You have changed routes many times now, and then you sit in the back of the truck, and look at the stars. And Wanda asks you about your nightmares. You say that you dream that Nat is falling, and that you can never reach her. You fall asleep together in the back of the car, many blankets wrapped around you.

When you wake up holding each other, neither of you really minds.

You are near Chicago when you drag Wanda to an arcade in the late afternoon. 

You and Wanda try out all the toys that are allowed for you. It's fun, and loud. And you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

And then you eat hamburger and fries with soda sitting in a parking lot. You push Wanda's shoulder lightly with yours when she steals one of your fries.

You are in a clothing bazaar when you see Wanda's breasts for the first time. In between trying on various strange outfits for fun, the fifth or sixth time you return to the changing room, Wanda pulls you into the cabin with her. And she smiles so much that you hardly notice them. 

When you get back to the motel, you bathe first. You touch yourself in the shower without really thinking about anything, but when you cum, the image of her breasts are in your mind.

In Michigan you bet on a race. And Wanda absolutely beats you. She has flushed cheeks and a sweaty face when you catch up with her. You think it's unfair that she looks so beautiful.

You watch the sunset, and Wanda thinks she has seen an owl. 

Your body begins to betray you when Wanda hugs you and you tremble. You decide that it is because you have been a long time without touching another person intimately and being touched in the same way. 

You joke with Wanda that you need to find a one-night stand, and she doesn't smile when she agrees with you.

As you drive towards Kansas, a waitress flirts with you. Wanda gets back in the car saying that she is tired, and you don't understand why kissing the waitress against a wall while she has one hand down your pants doesn't satisfy you.

You talk about death in Springfield. You are sharing popcorn while wrapped in a blanket sitting on the grass a few feet from the truck. 

- You can't die. - She declares suddenly and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Wanda...?

- I won't... I won't survive.

You turned around quickly, and held up both your hands. 

- I wouldn't like that. - You tell her. You know it's what she doesn't want to hear, but you need her to understand that. - I would never want your life to depend on mine. 

Wanda sobs, lowering her head.

- I wish you would move on. - You nod to reaffirm her statement, your own face wet with tears. - I know... people expect me to say that I wish you would miss me, or not replace me. But I don't feel that way. - You confess. - I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. If I die, and well, at some point I will, I want you to go on living. And enjoying it.

Wanda shakes her head, and jumps on your neck. She cries against your collarbone, but it's okay. You think she understood what you told her.

When she calms down, you are silent for several moments. 

- What will you do if I die? - she asks, looking at you. You keep your gaze on the stars as you shrug;

- I would die too.

Wanda bites back a smile on her lips, and hugs you. 

Bucky calls. You talk for five minutes. And then you text him that when he is ready you will be there to listen to him. You send a picture of you and Wanda, and when he calls again, you talk for five hours.

It takes four weeks since you left the compound to realize that you are in love with Wanda.

You are in a motel somewhere in Nebraska, and she is combing her hair in front of the television, a sitcom playing. And then she laughs, and you realize.

The realization doesn't surprise you though. You take a deep breath, and tell her you're going to get some air before you leave. 

You lean back on the balcony, trying to push the guilt away. You can hardly believe it happened so fast and so intensely.

You decide that everything is too recent, and that it would be disrespectful to Wanda's grief, so you guard yourself.

You fight for the first time in Colorado. You are being stubborn and rude, and Wanda is being distant and judgmental. And then you are arguing about the next destination. And then you stop the car on the roadside, and Wanda says she's not going anywhere with you. And you are silent for forty minutes before you two start to cry. 

You put your face against the steering wheel, and Wanda lifts her legs onto the seat and buries her face in her own arms. 

It takes a long moment for you to calm down. And then you wipe away your tears and Wanda looks away into the window, and you drive away again.

You are staying in Utah for a few days. It is the first time you ask for separate rooms. You want to cry again, but you just take the key. 

And then you can't sleep after four hours as you stare at the ceiling. 

You get up, and go out onto the veranda. And your feet guide you to the next door. But before you can knock, Wanda opens it, and jumps into you, hugging you tight. Your body instantly relaxes, and you cry as you both apologize, and promise never to fight again.

You get drunk in Las Vegas. Really drunk. You don't remember ever laughing as hard as you did that night. You think Wanda used her powers to win the games, but you can't prove it. And then you're back in the truck, stumbling and laughing, and she has a look on her face that makes your stomach turn with nervousness.

But you swallow your nervousness with a smile, and accept the bottle of vodka she offers you. And then you are in a karaoke bar, singing at the top of your lungs for two hours into the early morning hours. When the owner kicks you out, Wanda holds your hand as you both run around town. 

Back at the motel, you are laughing about something you can't remember, and then you fall into bed together, and instantly fall asleep.

When you wake up, you don't care about your headache.

You get the same tattoo in Las Vegas. Wanda holds and squeezes your hand while you are doing it, and you do the same to her. The tattoo artist thought you were married, and neither of you corrects him.

And then you take her to all the tourist spots, and you have ice cream and hot dogs. And Wanda's hand is warm against yours all the way.

On your last day in LA, you visit a nightclub. It is noisy, and lively, and has lots of alcohol. You find it hard to breathe when you see Wanda in a party dress, but she smiles and you follow her.

And then you dance and dance and dance, and you think about nothing. And then you're drunk again, and the girl at the bar is flirting with you. And Wanda's no longer smiling when she gets back on the dance floor. 

You think the girl at the bar has asked for your number, but you're looking at Wanda dancing. And she moves her body with sensuality, and then there is a man behind her. Wanda kisses him while looking at you through the lights. 

You take a shot of whiskey before leaving in a rage.

And when Wanda wakes up in the morning, she says she doesn't remember anything.

You think that you can no longer hide what you feel when you are on the road, heading for Oregon. But you just keep mumbling the song that plays on the radio.

Wanda bites her lip and has a lost look on her face, but when you ask her what's wrong, she looks away quickly as she says she was just distracted. 

You are entertained by the music again.

You get used to your feelings in Portland. The routine helps you keep them quiet and buried deep in your chest. 

You and Wanda begin to spend more time in inns, and camping, than on the road, but you still travel around the country. 

And then Wanda talks about Vision for the first time. How important he had been, how much she missed him. You listen, and she asks about Nat. And you say that it is exactly the same way. 

Neither of you cries anymore at the mention of their names.

It doesn't take long before the world needs you again. Sam calls. Stephen calls. You and Wanda throw your cell phones off a cliff, while toasting a lemonade.

- We are terrible superheroes, aren't we? - you ask looking at the horizon.

- The worst. - She replies before pouring her drink into her mouth.

You get your numbers back the same day by going to an electronics store.

And then you have to go back to New York.

Four hours down the road, and you both stop for a bite to eat in Cleveland, at a diner very similar to the one at your first stop.

Wanda walks ahead of you, hugging her own sweatshirt as she feels the late afternoon chill. You resist the urge to hug her.

- I'll have the waffles with chocolate and cereal. - You ask the waitress. Wanda stares at the menu for a few more seconds, biting her lower lip before speaking.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon with pancakes. - She asks right away.

You are silent for a moment, exchanging glances and quick smiles. And then the waitress returns with your plates.

- Are you ready to save the world again, Wandy? - you ask with a light irony in your voice before tasting your ceral.

Wanda smiles.

- Of course, of course. - She answers with humor. But her expression slowly falls, as if she is remembering something. You look at her with curiosity and concern.

- Are you all right?

- I just... - She begins. And then she straightens her posture, and diverts her eyes from yours. - What happens next? - You frown uncomprehendingly. Wanda looks unsure. - After we finish the job. This ends too?

You swallow dryly, feeling embarrassed and nervous. But you do your best to avoid showing it.

- Do you want it to end? - You ask.

- No. - She confesses as she looks into your eyes.- I'd like us to continue together.

- I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.  - You assure her with a smile. And then you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling anxious. - Don't you... don't you wish you had a fixed place to stay?

Wanda blinks in confusion, looking surprised at your question.

- I just... I love the road and all. Mostly because you're with me. - You say, and don't notice her blush at the last sentence. - But I'd like to have a house. Especially now that we're going back to work. I wouldn't mind living in New York.

- Are you inviting me to move in with you? - Wanda asks with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment, and you feel your face heat up.

- Yes, I ... I'd like that. - You say, and seeing Wanda's surprised expression, you hasten to add. - But I understand if you just want the road! That's fine, I'll stand by you too!

Wanda reaches your hand quickly over the table, and she has a huge smile on her lips.

- I would love to live with you.

- Oh. - You sigh ruefully, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your back. - Cool.

- Cool. - Wanda repeats with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye.

And then you go back to eating in silence.

You are in the passenger seat while Wanda hums a song along to the noise of the radio. It is dark and she is waiting for the first motel she can find to park. And you look at her, looking so good, and comfortable, and happy. And your brain is screaming how much you love her in an endless loop, while your heart threatens to explode in your chest.

So you think you'd better face the landscape because you're getting out of breath. But then Wanda is parking the car on the roadside, and you think maybe she's going to pee, but then she doesn't come out. You turn and find her gripping the steering wheel with both hands as she looks ahead.

- Hey, what happened? - you ask worriedly. Wanda closes her eyes.

- I read your mind.

The confession shocks you immediately. 

- W-what? - You retort with a trembling voice.

Wanda opens her eyes, and lets go of the steering wheel. And she has a tender expression to calm you down.

- Hey, it's okay, I...

- No.

You mumble breathlessly, holding back tears, as you quickly unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car.

You think you finally blew it. Wanda knew, and this was the end. 

Leaning against the car, you hugged your arms as you tried to calm your breathing with your eyes closed. You were startled when Wanda touched your shoulders, not even having heard her get out of the car.

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - You cried when she hugged you. Your body was shaking. - I tried to avoid it. I'm sorry.

- Stop saying that. - She asked softly, letting her hands caress your back to calm you down. - You didn't do anything wrong. - She tries to say it, but you hold her tight, afraid she'll be gone at any moment. - Hey, look at me.

Wanda asks a few more times before you let go, trying to control your tears. Only when you look at her do you realize that she too has a crying face.

- I don't want to lose you. - You whimper. - I'll control myself, I can send them away. And everything will go back to the way it was before.

Wanda denies it with her head, raising her hands to your face. You think she's going to say you both can't do this anymore, and your stomach flips.

- I love you. - She confesses, looking up at you. - I love you. - She repeats as she wipes your tears with her fingers. You're too shocked to react. - I love you so much.

And then Wanda kisses you. And you stumble with fright, but the car behind you won't let you move away from her body. And then your eyes close, and you surrender. A long sigh escapes your lips as you feel Wanda's tongue on yours.

And you kiss until you are breathless. And then your body is warm, trembling, and Wanda kisses you again, and again, as she presses you against the car. 

And then you don't want to be dressed anymore, as Wanda lets her hands run all over you. 

You don't separate your mouths as you fall into the back seat, Wanda on top moaning into your mouth. 

The glass of the car is fogged as your hand slips on the window, trembling at Wanda's intimate touch, and delighting in the sounds she makes when you kiss her in all the right places.

You are happy. Fucking delighted. And you didn't want to keep driving, not unless it was to a house that was going to be yours and Wanda's. But Stephen and Sam were calling, saying that you were taking too long. Then you drove back to New York, and this time, Wanda's hand was entwined in yours.

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (8/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: You and Spencer meet at your favorite coffee shop - and he asks you to spend some time with him.

Warnings: some minor talk about injuries, mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: hello friends! here’s part 8! I hope you like it. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

As you enter the bullpen through the glass door, you are immediately stopped. "What are you doing here?", Emily asks, confused. She's standing at JJ's desk, both of them holding a coffee cup, looking at you in amazement. "I told you to stay home."

As you set your bag down on your desk, you wince briefly. "It's boring at home. Besides, it's just a minor bruise, Emily. And sitting at a desk doesn't require much physical exertion. I can handle it."

JJ presses her lips together. "I thought the doctor put you on bed rest because you narrowly escaped a broken rib." You give her a meaningful look. "Sorry, Y/N. You should take that seriously."

"You don't have to stab me in the back, though", you say playfully, and the three of you grin. "Desk duty?" Your eyes shift to Emily. She shakes her head and you sigh.

"We're on a case, Y/N. So no desk duty, and like JJ said, the doctor put you on bed rest."

You cross your arms in front of your chest, carefully, because the skin underneath is stained dark blue. You took quite a beating on your last case. The unsub kicked you in the torso with all his might as you tried to wrestle him down. And even though the pain shot through your whole body like a lightning bolt, you managed to do it.The result is a bruised rib that hurts a lot, but isn't so bad that you can't go on a mission.

Only Emily disagrees. "Go home, Y/N. Get some rest. If we need your help, we'll get back to you." You want to say something else, but she beats you to it. "That's an order."

Reluctantly, you shoulder your bag and try not to let the pain in your torso show. "You promise to call me if you need anything, though?"

Both women paint a cross over their chests where the heart is located. "Word of honor."

You don't feel like going home, because there's absolutely nothing waiting for you there. You could clean - which is against the bed rest, which you wouldn't stick to anyway - or cook something sensible, because your stomach has only had to experience ready-made meals and fast food lately, but you don't feel like it. Although it would be just the thing for you. A bit of everyday life would do you good, maybe take your mind off Spencer for a bit, and honestly, your life needs to get back on track.

So before you head to your local supermarket, you step into your favorite coffee shop. The smell of coffee wafts into your nose and the atmosphere alone warms you up, even though it's not particularly cold outside. You stand at the end of the queue, examining the pastries displayed in a small window. After ordering, you wait patiently for your drink and the muffin you couldn't pass without your mouth watering. The barista wishes you a nice day as she hands you the cup and you make your way towards the exit.

"Y/N?"

Your gaze lingers on Spencer, who is sitting at one of the small tables.  In front of him are several loose sheets of paper that take up the entire table and an empty coffee cup. You bite your lower lip. It's been several weeks since you've seen each other, as Spencer's one hundred days of work has expired and he's now teaching some students. As he smiles at you, you realize how much you've missed him these past few days.

"Hi, Spencer", you smile at him as you stand in front of his table. Your fingers curl around the back of the empty chair in front of you. "How are you?"

He reaches for the slips of paper in front of him and folds them before putting them in his pocket. "I'm fine, thanks." He closes his bag before placing it on the table. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a case to solve?"

"Emily gave me the day off. I took a kick and bruised up on our last case, so I'm not allowed to go out on case", you explain, shrugging. Spencer looks you up and down. He's probably trying to figure out where the injury is. "She sent me home again this morning."

Spencer gets up from his chair, shoulders his bag, and walks with you toward the exit. "So what are you planning to do today?"

"I was thinking about cooking myself something delicious and doing a little cleaning at home. To bring a bit of everyday life into my life," you answer and your tone tells him that you don't feel like it at all. "I'm not so sure about the cooking yet, though. After all, I don't want to risk food poisoning."

Spencer has to smile in response. "I can remember that. Everyday life isn't quite your thing."

You nod and pucker your mouth. "Right. But  I have to do something. And just sitting around at home waiting for the day to be over isn't an option."

Together, you walk a short distance, chatting about his students until you arrive at your car. You push the button on your key and hear the central locking system open. You open the driver's door. "See you around, Spencer," you say goodbye and are about to get in, but Spencer stops you.

"You could come with me", he suggests, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah. I'm about to teach another class, and you're welcome to join me." Blush rises to his face, and you're not quite sure if he's serious and really wants you there. But when he lifts his gaze from his shoes and looks you in the eye, your doubts evaporate. "So?"

"I'm actually Emily's phone joker“, you give out, because really, you're not sure spending the day with Spencer is the right thing to do, even if you'd only be sitting in the back of the lecture hall. "She wants to call me if they need help." You see Spencer's expression darken. Apparently he was excited to have you on board today, and your cancellation actually seems to hit him a bit. You take a deep breath. "But I'll still be happy to come along. If Emily does call, it could be very interesting for your students."

A smile spreads across his face, reaching up to his eyes. "Well then, let's go. Class starts in twenty minutes."

There's something comforting about sitting in the back of the lecture hall and listening to Spencer explain things to his students. It reminds you of the time you sat on your couch in the evenings, eating delivery dinners and watching documentaries. The TV sound was always on mute because Spencer's knowledge was so vast that his versions of the documentaries were much more exciting than the original versions. Those evenings had been perfect. Listening to him now, with a passion that seems all too familiar, the way he explains things and the looks he casts around the room, some sticking to you, come pretty close to those perfect evenings.

The ringing of your phone snaps you out of your thoughts. The students in front of you turn around in annoyance and you apologize as you get up from your seat. Spencer looks at you questioningly, but you just press your lips together into a thin line as you look at him and leave the lecture hall.

"What's up, Emily?", you ask her as you answer the call.

"The unsub always leaves puzzles at the crime scene", she begins without greeting you. You don't blame her. "And always different puzzles. Self-created crossword puzzles, number sequences, picture puzzles and symbol series, for example. Maybe you can take a look at them sometime." Emily emails you the puzzles, and before you can ask how the case is going, the line goes silent. Typical Emily.

You open the emails and are inundated with images. Emily definitely didn't overstate. As you head back into the lecture hall, you give Spencer a meaningful look.

"Excuse me for a moment", he says to his students and is with you in just a few steps. "Does Emily have something for us?"

Us. As he says the word, you warm to it. While he doesn't mean it the way you'd like, you're incredibly glad that he considers you friends. Although, really, you don't deserve it, because it's all based on a lie. You push the thought aside. Spencer is standing so close to you that you can breathe in his perfume and feel the warmth of his body. You have to pull yourself together not to inhale his scent deeply.

"The unsub leaves puzzles at the scene", you describe the situation, handing him your phone so he can take a look. You can practically see his brain start to rattle and before you can do anything, Spencer walks forward again.

"So, guys. This", he turns back to his students and gestures for you to join him with a wave. Tense and a little nervous, you stand next to him and raise your hand. "Is my colleague and friend SSA Y/N Y/L/N. Since she sustained some injuries on her last case, she is assisting me today." He hands your phone back to you. "Can you project the pictures on the wall somehow?" he whispers to you and you have to grin. The guy has several PhDs, but can't manage to connect a cell phone to a projector. You tap the screen a few times, playing it safe to make sure the projector on the ceiling is actually turned on, and moments later the puzzles appear on the wall behind you. Spencer smiles at you.

"Today you have the honor of working on a real and, more importantly, current case", Spencer speaks to the students again, curiosity spreading across their faces. They all sit up straight and listen intently as he paces. "Unit Chief Prentiss and our team are in the field right now and have found these puzzles at the crime scenes. Please take a look and let us know your thoughts. Maybe you can give us an important clue."

Immediately, the students start talking to each other, sharing theories and jotting down their thoughts on paper. Spencer and you lean against his desk at the time, watching the scene. You keep noticing how some of the female students give him ogling looks, but as soon as they meet your gaze, awkwardly turn back to the task at hand.

"How many people audit in your class?", you ask him quietly, Spencer shrugs. "Because I think the girls in the first two rows are just here to stare at you." You nudge him with your shoulder and stifle a grin.

"You and your imaginations", he replies, but he has to grin, too. He opens his mouth, about to say something else, but a student beats him to it.

"Professor, agent, I think we've found something."

And indeed. Together you are able to crack the puzzles, which takes the rest of the day, but neither you two nor the students complain about it. After you update Emily on your progress and send the students home, they actually thank you and ask if you'll keep coming to class.

As Spencer packs up his things and the last people leave the lecture hall, you wait patiently for him at the exit. The day has been pretty exhausting, but you're glad you got to spend it with Spencer. You're sure that today is a very good start for a friendship. And that alone makes your heart beat a little faster.

A young woman suddenly stops in front of you, and you avert your eyes from Spencer. You recognize her. She was sitting in the front row until just now, and she was one of the girls staring at Spencer throughout.

"Agent Y/L/N?" She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and chews on her bottom lip. She's visibly nervous. "Can I ask you something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Sure."

"Are you ... I mean ... are you and Professor Reid a couple?", she stammers. "I know it's a pretty personal question. But I've noticed the way they look at each other and -"

"We're colleagues and friends", you interrupt her immediately. You don't sound harsh, but your tone doesn't leave room for another question either, so she turns away with a quick nod of her head and disappears from the lecture hall. You look after her.

How did you look at each other? The way friends do, right? Maybe there was some longing in your looks, after all, you love Spencer, but you're pretty sure that wasn't the case with him. When Spencer walks up to you and puts a hand on your arm, you flinch briefly in shock. "Are you okay?"

You nod at him. "Uh, yeah." Together, you leave the room. Should you tell him about the question? Or would that be weird in light of the fact that you had actually been a couple once? "She had another question." Spencer looks at you, a sign that you should keep talking. "She asked if we were a couple." At your answer, he stops and looks at you curiously. "She was one of the ones eyeing you. She said we looked at each other in a special way, or something. But I think she just wanted to know if you were available." The situation is so weird that you can't stop talking. Luckily, Spencer eventually interjects.

"And what did you say to her?" He sounds unsure.

"What would you like me to have said to her, Spencer? We're colleagues and friends." You adjust the bag on your shoulder and smile slightly at him before turning and continuing towards the exit. You want to escape this moment and are relieved when the wind outside hits your face and cools your heated skin. Finally, you can take a breath.

You don't see Spencer's expression twist and his voice is just a whisper that you don't notice. "Right ... friends."

next part

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, trauma, sextoy, recording, anal.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: It was close but y’all wanted more Birch!Sam so here we go. This one is... porn. Let’s be honest lmao.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 5: Come on in, sit right down

💀💀💀

It was a pain you’d never felt before. It was more than physical, it was deep, it was like part of you was missing. Something taken from you. More than just that outdated concept of purity that you never bought into, more so your autonomy. You never felt very in control of your life, trapped in the small town with dreams but now your life was completely out of your grasp.

Sam left late, some time after midnight. It didn’t matter, you still felt him inside of you. You tried to rinse him off of you, out of you, but the shower only left you cold and hollow. You gave up on sleep just after five in the morning and you typed in a trance, barely thinking as your fingers fluttered over the keyboard.

Hours passed like days and you descended as you heard your nan below, the clink of her heavy cast iron pot on the stove. She cooked her oatmeal in it and it was heavy enough to hammer back in the loose floorboard in front of the fridge. She offered you some as you entered the kitchen and you sat at the table with a sigh.

“Is that man coming back?” she asked.

You tilted your head at her as she put a bowl in front of you and the bag of sugar just for you. You sprinkled the brown granules over your oatmeal and added milk, “you looking forward to it?”

“The only reason I didn’t spray Lysol in his eyes was because of you, girly,” she sat heavy with the jar of artificial sugar and the little cinnamon container, “you know I’d do anything to keep you safe even if you’re too dumb for your own good.”

You nodded and scooped up the thick oatmeal. You pushed your tongue through the oats and said nothing.

“I told you to stay away from that bar,” she huffed. The crotchety old lady was back.

“You seemed happy enough about the pie and wine,” you shrugged.

“You think I don’t know his kind. I’m an old lady, that won’t keep him from cracking my skull like poor old Mikey Rae,” she tutted, “that was the first biker I fucked with.”

“Nan,” you gasped at her language.

“Well, you’re an adult now. Gonna have to grow up quick if you messin’ with those boys,” she pointed her spoon at you, “but you say the word and I’ll twist his balls off. Being old only means I gotta be patient.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. You knew she was serious and you realised then that it was all a show. A cautious act that you’d mirrored for her own sake. But this was a problem you had to deal with yourself. The one thing you couldn’t live with was bringing harm to the woman who raised you.

“No ball twisting, nan,” you shook your head, “alright?”

“For now,” she returned, “but you be careful, girly. You’re in deep enough.”

“I know,” you bit the edge of your lip, “nan?”

“Mmm,” she grumbled as she swallowed.

“Mikey Ray, if he was one of them, who bashed him?” you asked.

“The second one, Colin,” she frowned, “cocky bugger, took what he wanted… until he got what he couldn’t handle.”

“And what happened to him?”

It was the most your nan ever told you about those days, more inclined to talk about her hippy festivals and protest arrests.

“I twisted his balls off,” she snickered, “in a manner of speaking.”

You drew your brows together as you watched her take another bite and she opened the pocket book of crosswords she kept on the table.

“In a manner of speaking?” you wondered.

“I plead the fifth,” she took the pencil from between the pages and adjusted her thick glasses, “but he wasn’t around to cause me any trouble.”

You shoved another spoonful into your mouth and sat back. You always thought your nan was a tough old bitch, you couldn’t imagine what she was like when she was your age.

💀

Sam showed up just after noon. You weren’t surprised but you weren’t happy either. You were only thankful he came in the back. You didn’t need Nan following through on her threats and you would rather she didn’t know about the visit. If you were fortunate, she didn’t notice him for her knitting.

He knocked on your door and you unlocked it. He made no move to enter as he twirled your phone between his fingers.

“Charged it last night,” he smiled, “thought we could have some more fun.”

“I’m working,” you said quietly.

“Did I ask?” his lips straightened and he tilted his head, “and it’s about time you came over. Kind feels off with the old lady just on the other side of the wall.” You winced at the memory of the night before. He noticed and chuckled. “Kinda hot too but… still,” he mused.

“You can’t come back later?” you crossed your arms.

“You were so good last night,” he said, “I don’t like this little game you’re playing so don’t make me give the old lady a show. Let’s go.”

You dropped your arms and grabbed your thinner jacket from the back of your chair and shoved your feet into your zip up Martens. He waited with his arm across the open door and you stepped past him as his other hand went to your ass and squeezed. He closed the door and followed you down the wooden steps.

The snow wasn’t as deep as the first fall and you crunched through to the sidewalk. He placed his arm over your shoulders as he ushered you along to the main road. You passed The Asp and cut through the lot as he waved to other members of the club.

“I talked to Bucky, let him know you won’t be an issue any longer,” he said, “right?”

“Right,” you echoed and hugged yourself against the bitter air.

“Aw, honey, don’t worry, we’re about to get you warmed up,” he led you down another side street and up the paved walk of a pale blue house, “this is my place, Chez, uh, Wilson.”

He let you inside and nudged you further in as he followed. You slid out of your boots and he helped you out of your jacket. His impatience showed as he unzipped his coat and tore off his own boots. He took out your phone and grinned.

“Today,” he held it up, “you can get this back… if you earn it.”

You stared at him and picked at the hem of your shirt. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers and he licked his lips.

“Why yes, you can take that off, that’s a great start,” he purred, “all of it.”

You clenched your teeth and gripped the fabric nervously. He shouldered past you and pointed across the front room.

“You can go wait for me in there,” he said, “I’ll be a couple.”

You nodded and made to pass him but he stopped you before you could enter the living room. The place was cozy even if you didn’t want to be there. He bent and turned your face up to kiss you sloppily. He tapped your ass again as he urged you onward.

“Gotta loosen you up,” he taunted, “in more ways than one.”

You continued across the room if only to get away from him, even if it wouldn't be for long. You pushed past the painted door and entered the bedroom. The wall was hung with a large framed diagram of a Harley and another of a bike engine. There was a large poster for the Godfather and a Marvin Gaye album leaned against a retro player. The bed was made and the carpet freshly vacuumed.

You went to the dresser and looked over the dog tags that hung from a miniature statue of David. You looked up at the large mirror over the dresser and you looked as scared as you felt. You gulped down your nerves as he entered and looked away from your reflection.

He had a stool in hand and kicked the door closed. He placed it between the bed and the dresser. He kept his hands on the top and his chest flexed beneath his grey henley. He watched you knowingly and tutted.

“You’re not naked,” he said, “don’t you want this back?”

He let go of the stool and revealed your phone once more. You murmured and lifted your shirt slowly. He went to the dresser and unfolded a small metal tripod and affixed the cell to it. He angled it then slid out the top drawer. You scoffed as he turned around with a large suction dildo and stuck it to the top of the stool, your hands frozen on your open fly.

“Um, what the hell?” you sputtered.

“I think you know what the hell but I’m more than happy to give direction,” he wiggled the dildo and let it wobble as he pulled away.

You gaped at it. You couldn’t fit that whole thing in you. How were you even supposed to get yourself onto that?

“Honey, quit stalling,” he warned as he put his hands on his hips. You blinked at him and scowled, “or we can make a special post for TikTok… but I think it might be against their terms of service.”

You glanced away and pushed down your jeans. You let your socks crumple in the ankles and stood to unhook your bra. He hummed as he moved to lean against the wall beside the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. You hesitated before you shimmied out of your panties, shying away as you eyed the stool.

“Oh,” he pushed away from the wall and reached into the drawer again. He tossed you a tube and you caught it. Lubricant. “You’re gonna wanna get some of that on there.”

You inhaled deeply and flipped open the cap. You cringed as you hovered the bottle over the tip of the dildo and squirted it onto the silicone. You spread it down the length of the toy and your hand shook. You felt him watching you as embarrassment burned through you.

You finished and capped the lube and set it on the dresser. He nodded to the toy and lifted a brow. You hid your discomfort and approached the stool. You stepped up onto the crossbar and clung to the edge of the seat as you brought your knee up. You felt as if it would all topple as you brought your other leg up.

You shuddered as you felt the tip against your cunt and you reached unsteadily between your legs. You rubbed the head of the toy against your folds to spread the lube and peeked over at Sam.

“Go on,” he ordered, “if you can get that whole thing inside you, I’ll give you your phone back.”

You gripped the toy and pushed it back to your entrance. You lowered yourself a little so it stretched you just slightly. You scrunched your nose at the discomfort and slowly eased further onto it. You got halfway and stopped as you gasped. Your fingers curled around the seat and the toy.

“You’re doing good, honey,” his voice was smoky and you looked at yourself in the mirror. The phone blocked the bottom half of the toy but you could see your cunt around the top.

You bent your knees further and groaned as your walls strained around the dildo. Your eyes watered as it hit your cervix and you arched your back to take it as deep as you could. You cried out as you reached the base.

“Whoa, you really did it,” he mused, “fuck, you look good all stretched out.”

You whimpered and adjusted your legs as you tried not to slip.

“Well, you know what to do,” he motioned up and down with his fingers.

“Please,” you breathed, “I did--”

“Not done yet,” he said pointedly.

You huffed and lifted yourself carefully. You pushed back down and let out a moan as the toy grazed your walls. The fullness was overwhelming, a painful pressure laced with pleasure. You rocked your hips as you moved on your knees and gripped the edge of the stool, mindful not to shake the stool too much.

You closed your eyes as your breath hitched. You needed more. The toy could only do so much as your clit thrummed and the wetness spread down your thighs.

“Mmmm,” Sam came around you and snaked his arm down your front. He pushed his fingers between your swollen folds and circled your bud, “you like that, don’t you, honey?”

You whined as your nerves sparked at his fingertips and you sped up. He planted his foot on the crossbar to keep the stool from tipping and you rode out your orgasm as his touch spurred you on.

“Ah, fuck,” he pressed against your back, “I’m so fucking hard.”

You panted and opened your eyes. You looked at yourself in the mirror but quickly shied away. You were weak, so weak.

He stepped around you and reached for the lube. You watched him as you didn’t move from atop the toy and he rounded you again. He drizzled the lube between your cheeks and flung the lube away. He pushed his fingers along your ass and lingered on your tight ring. You winced and tried to lift yourself off the dildo.

He caught your shoulder and held you down.

“Again,” he ordered.

You glanced at him in the mirror and he gave you a stern look as his fingers tightened around your shoulder. You held your breath and began to fuck the toy again. He nuzzled the back of your head and poked against your ass until his finger slid inside. You cried out and his hand went to your neck as he urged you on.

“Ah, honey,” he whispered against your hair.

He drew his finger in and out of your ass as a burning pressure seared through you and added to that in your cunt. 

“You can touch yourself,” he uttered as his fiery breath encircled you.

You did so without thinking. He pushed another finger into you and a squeak escaped your lips. You couldn’t help but delight in how the sensations mingled and bloomed to a new climax. He sped up in time with your hips and your legs shook as you came in a series of strangled mewls.

He kept on until you slowed to catch your breath. He slipped his fingers out of you and your head lolled as he removed his hand from your neck. You heard his zipper and as you looked back, his hand stretched across the back of your head and turned it straight. He bent so his head was next to yours and grasped your chin as he made you look at him in the mirror.

“One more time, honey,” he pulled his dick out and his tip brushed along your ass.

You tried to lift yourself off the toy but he hooked his arm around your middle and kept you on it.

“Sam, no, please,” you begged, “I can’t--”

“You can handle it all, honey,” he purred, “I know you can.”

His tip pressed to your ring as he forced you down on the toy. You exclaimed and he pushed until you stretched around the head of his cock. You gritted your teeth and threw your head back against his shoulder. 

He pulled back and pushed in again. He got deeper with each slow thrust, an inch at a time, until you were filled by him and the toy. Your eyes welled and the tears trickled down your cheeks as you held onto the stool and grunted through each tilt of his hips.

He trailed his hand down between your legs and spread your folds as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. He moved you against him and on the toy. He pushed into as the dildo reached its limit and your voice grew louder and louder. 

Through the agony, you couldn’t help but feel the unyielding tingle in your core and it crawled down your thighs and up your spine. The stool rocked with his motion but he kept you flush to him as he fucked you from behind. Your legs slipped over the side of the seat and you were impaled on the toy.

He didn’t let up as you gasped and gulped, whining as your cunt twitched around the silicone and you came as you reached back to scratch at his open jeans. He rutted into you without relent as he kneaded your thighs and his breath seared down your flesh.

“Ah, honey,” he muttered through his delighted groans, “goddamn, god-- shit, I’m gonna fill you up.”

He slammed into you as deep as he could and you felt him burst. He gave several long thrusts as rode out his orgasm and groaned. When he stilled he leaned against you and sighed.

“You can have the phone back,” he rasped as he caressed your thigh, “tomorrow.”

[mandoalorian]

Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Javier being kind of an asshole, allusions to sex, a ~moment~ in the bathtub, mention of PTSD and trauma, food mention, drink mention, ...feelings?

Word count: 4200

Author’s Note: It’s been so long! I’m sorry. It’s been pretty hectic and I’ve been doing my best to wrap up my other series’ and complete requests. I appreciate you all for sticking around and asking for updates on this chapter. I’ve mentioned it a few times, but PIFTL is very difficult to write. It deals with very sensitive issues and so not only can it be mentally draining to write, it takes a lot of time to research and edit. I won’t give up on this series though. I adore this story and can’t wait to share it all with you.

Pain Is For The Living Masterlist

* Reblogs appreciated and my ko-fi is linked in my bio if you wish to support my writing!

Nina pushed off Javi quicker than a bullet leaving a gun, grabbing a blanket from her bed and wrapping it around her naked body. “What the fuck Javier?” she spat.

Jesus Christ -- Javier had never made that mistake before. Moaning someone else’s name? He was better than that. It took him a moment to just process what happened, Nina’s yelling and accusations only a blur in the background. “Who is she, Javier?” Nina questioned, her tone venomous. That was enough to snap the agent out of his thoughts. Her cold eyes burned like wildfire as she glared at him. “Who. Is. She?”

“Uh…” Javier racked his brains to try and figure out a way he’d be able to save this situation. But the longer he took to answer Nina’s question, the more infuriated she got. “Informant.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. You’d agreed to help him. But whether or not you’d actually be able to provide Javier with any relevant information was a different ordeal in itself.

“You’re still sleeping with your informants?” Nina gasped a little, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disappointment. “Why am I not surprised?”

Javier sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling himself off Nina’s bed and grabbing his denim jeans that had been previously discarded on the floor. “C’mon Ni, don’t get jealous now. We haven’t been together for like, a year.” Javier hummed, zipping up his pants. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to locate his shirt. Maybe there was no fixing this. For a split second, he’d forgotten why things had ended with Nina, but now it was becoming clear again. He just had to get outta there. He needed air, and a smoke. 

“I let you cum inside of me and you moan out another woman’s name!” Nina exclaimed, shaking her fists in the air. “Javier Peña I fucking hate you!”

Javier offered Nina a small shrug of his shoulders before finding his shirt and buttoning it up. “I’ll see you around Ni.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Called him seventeen times Con, he’s taking the piss.” Steve grimaced, aggressively flicking to the next page of the Bogotá local newspaper.

“Will you just calm down? He’s our friend. We’re doing him a favour. He'll be back soon,” Connie sighed, glancing back over to you, where you had been sleeping on the sofa for the past two and a half hours. “She sleeps better than our Liv,” Connie noted. “Wish we could sleep as well as that.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “I’ll go check on Liv.” He announced at the mention of his daughter. He’d put her down for a nap about an hour ago in Javier’s bedroom.

“No honey, I’ll go. You keep working on your crossword,” Connie giggled before pointing her index finger into one of the blank squares. “Fourteen down: Los huevos revueltos.” 

“I would’ve got that,” Steve huffed, scrambling to write the answer down. He definitely would not have. The Spanish puzzle was made for infants and yet he was still struggling.

“Whatever Murph.” Connie rolled her eyes, leaving the table where they were both sitting at. 

The second she left the room, you woke up in a cold sweat, feeling dizzy and shaking from a nightmare you didn’t want to remember. Your cheeks were wet, tear stained and goose pimples pricked at your arms. You checked your surroundings in a fluster, not recognising the brown leather couch you were laying on, or the oak wood coffee table in front of you, or even the television pushed against the cream coloured walls. A man with blonde hair and mustache raced over to you, and dropped to his knees, holding you by your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” The man quizzed, his blue eyes searching to meet yours. You were horrified, the feeling of an unfamiliar man grabbing you like this. You screamed in terror, and defensively dug your fingernails into his skin. The man yelped out and stumbled back from you, hitting the coffee table in the process. “Fuck-- shit-- ow--” He gasped. “Connie!” he called. “Connie, she's awake!”

The way he yelled and screamed your name... it was like you were some kind of monster. You hated it.

The sound of footsteps padding into the living room alerted you, and a woman, not much older than you, knelt down in front of you. But unlike the man, she knew well enough to keep her distance. “Hi sweetheart, are you alright? I’m Connie, don’t be afraid. You’re okay.” she assured you, her voice sweet like honey. 

“Where am I?” you choked out, tears filling your eyes. 

Connie hesitated for a moment. “She doesn’t remember where she is?” Steve asked Connie with concern, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled himself together and shuffled over to you. Taking a note out of Connie’s book, he kept his distance. Connie briefly explained to her husband how your behaviour right now actually made a lot of sense, and how victims of PTSD can often have ‘memory blanks’.

“Darling, I’m Connie Murphy. I’m a nurse. And this is my husband Steve. Steve is DEA. He’s friends with Javier Peña. You know that name, right? Javier Peña.” She repeated his name slow and steady, allowing you to take your time to process the words. Javier Peña. Just like that, a wave of calmness washed over you. His name felt like home. It felt like safety. 

“I know Javi.” you whispered in admittance, shuffling around on the sofa. You could feel your lips trembling. It was strange. You were new to Bogotá, and you didn’t really have any friends, other than the late Rosa. And well, Javier too. He was a client, sure, but he was always kind and gentle with you, unlike your other customers. You’d like to think of him as a friend. Right now, he was the only person you had. 

“This is Javier’s place. He’s going to watch over you for a little while, okay?” Connie explained. “We are your friends and we’re not going to hurt you. I promise,” the lady soothed. She turned to Steve. “Bring over Olivia.”

“What-- why?” Steve quizzed, his eyebrows furrowing together in bewilderment.

“She needs to know she can trust us. Bring over Olivia,” Begrudgingly following his wife’s instruction, a wary Steve stood up and padded into Javier’s bedroom where Olivia had been left to sleep in a small, transportable crib. He picked up his daughter and carried her into the living room. “This is my daughter Olivia,” Connie told you quietly, smoothing out Olivia’s black hair. “She’s one year old. Would you like to hold her?”

“Connie are you fucking crazy?” Steve snapped.

“I’m a fucking nurse Steve, I know what I’m doing.” Connie hissed back, taking Olivia from her father. She looked back over to you and her deep frown turned into a comforting smile as she slowly handed you the baby. Connie’s hands never left Olivia, and she made an effort to support her head as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms.

Holding Olivia Murphy gave you a feeling of responsibility. If Steve and Connie were dangerous, they would never have shown you their daughter, let alone allow you to hold her in your arms. You contemplated everything and although it was hard, you decided that you probably could trust them. Still, it raised the question: “Where is Javi?”

Steve shook his head incredulously and stood up, grabbing the phone from one of the side tables and dialling his partner’s number again. You didn’t know what was wrong with the blonde haired agent, but you got the impression that he did not want to be here.

“Steve is going to call him, again. He went to get groceries. I’m sure he won’t be long.” Connie informed softly, and you nodded your head. 

“Your baby is adorable,” you announced quietly and Connie smiled, thankful you were beginning to talk a little more. Seemingly, you’d calmed down, which meant Connie’s comforting approach had worked.

“She’s a real gem, isn’t she?”

Javier was just a couple of blocks away when his carphone began to ring. He eyed up the display and read the ‘17 missed calls’, cursing under his breath. He clicked the accept button and continued to drive.

“Javier Peña. You prick.”

“Hi bestie.” Javier grinned, shaking his head at Steve’s introduction. Typical.

“You left us here for three fucking hours with some random girl -- who, by the way, is incredibly unstable, Javier. I don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but I’m not here for it. Where the fuck have you been? No, forget that. You better be home in the next ten minutes and you better have the ingredients for my fucking paella.” Steve growled before angrily slamming the phone down on the hook.

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle. Steve Murphy was ever the drama queen.

As he drove down the street, he made one final attempt to shrug off what had happened with Nina. Okay, yeah, saying your name was a little uncalled for. But she always got so needy and possessive -- even when she had no reason to be. Nina and Javier weren’t exclusive and hadn’t been for a long time, so, what was her deal?

What was even more concerning to Javi, was the fact he said your name in the first place. Nina looked rather similar to you. Not identical, but from a distance, there was a chance she could’ve been mistaken. Only, when he was pounding into her from behind, he wasn’t at a distance. In fact he couldn’t have been any closer, and yet he still said your name. He was really struggling to justify it. 

Sure, he’d been thinking about you when he was inside of her. But was that really so bad? You were clearly on his mind, and Javier just pinned that down to the fact he’d been out all day investigating the crime scene at the brothel. He’d been with you, he’d held you and comforted you. Fuck, even before noon he had been fucking your mouth. It wasn’t exactly unreasonable…

But moaning out your name… shit, could Javier really get past that? Was there any way to justify that -- other than the blatant and glaring honest reason that Javier refused to admit. He wouldn’t even let his mind go there. Whatever, it was fine. He was home now. The end of a long day.

Javier grabbed the groceries from the back of his car and buzzed himself into the DEA apartment block where he and Steve were living. Making his way over to his apartment, he opened the front door and set the brown paper bag of ingredients down on the kitchen counter. When he got home, Connie was just finishing up painting your nails a beautiful sea blue gel colour. She turned around and she looked up at Javier. Your eyes, however, were already fixated on him the second he entered the room.

“Where’s Steve?” Javier asked, diverting his gaze from the two women and continuing to unpack the food. 

“He went home. He’s pissed, Javi.” Connie admitted, shaking her head in annoyance and placing the pot of nail polish on the coffee table. She walked into the open space kitchen and nudged the agent.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Javier muttered, stacking the canned goods into a cupboard.

“I’m going home, but don’t think we’ve forgotten about the paella. Steve wants that fucking paella,” Connie chastised. Javier nodded his head but remained silent as he emptied his bag of shopping. “Unbelievable.” Connie scoffed incredulously, and opened the front door before slamming it behind her.

“Thanks Con!” Javier called, but there was no telling if she even heard.

Javier was half way through putting his shopping away when he heard your meek and softly spoken voice call his name in a questioning tone. His dark eyes looked over at you. You were sitting upright on the sofa and his face softened. Stopping what he was doing, he neglected the bag of groceries and padded into the living room to sit down next to you. 

“Hi.” Javier murmured, crossing his legs and adjusting the crochet blanket that was covering your lap. 

“Hi.” you replied, feeling somewhat shy and slightly nervous, for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“How are you feeling?” Javier asked, bringing himself to look at you.

“Um,” you fumbled at the blanket and thought for a moment. It was a loaded question. Other than the overwhelming feeling of distress and helplessness, you decided to give the agent a simple answer. “Well rested. A little thirsty.” 

Javier nodded. “How would you feel about taking a bath?”

You swallowed back a knot in your throat that you hadn’t even realised was there in the first place. “...Do I smell?” you asked, You stretched out and gave your underarms a sniff, prompting Javier to burst out into laughter. Shit, had you always been that adorable? Your nose scrunched up at the distinct smell of dried up blood on your clothes and your shoulders slumped sadly. Javi, noticing your change in demeanor, gently lifted up the blanket and wrapped it around your body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed. “Believe me, I get stinky too. It happens. Let me help you take a bath. Come with me.”

Taking his hand, Javier navigated you towards the bathroom. It was a small boxy room with barely any space to move around, and yet, to your surprise, it fit a bathtub. Javier twisted the faucet, and the tap began to run warm water. He picked up a bottle of bubble bath and a tub of salts. “I have a bad back,” Javier told you. “These salts really help me relax. And the bubbles are nice too.”

You nodded with a smile. As he emptied the contents into the tub, you watched the products swirl into a colourful abyss. “It smells like you.” you uttered, without really thinking about the weight of your words. Javier said nothing, and you both sat by the side of the tub in comfortable silence, watching as it filled up. He occasionally dipped his hand in the water, checking the temperature.

“Will you be okay?” Javier asked you, taking out a towel and folding it up on top of the toilet seat.

You weren’t really sure, but you nodded your head anyway. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up again. “Actually, Javi, could you stay?”

Javier fumbled a little but smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

Javier had seen you naked countless times due to the nature of your job but for some reason, this time, it felt different. He’d never had a woman use his bathtub before, let alone be requested to stay in her presence as she got undressed and stepped inside. You slipped out of your sultry, blood stained dress and let it pool to the floor. Javi’s mouth parted as he took in your naked form under the amber tinted bathroom lights. 

You stepped inside the tub and almost slipped over, but Javier, as quick as lightning, grabbed your arm and steadied you. “Sorry,” he muttered, and your hand slid into his. As your fingers interlocked, you felt something. It was like a bolt of electricity, running up your arm, and judging by Javier’s reaction, he could feel it too. “I should’ve warned you. It can be a little slippery.”

You giggled and tried to tear yourself from Javi’s grip, but he didn’t let go of you once. Instead,  he helped you sit down comfortably amongst the bubbles and aromatic hot water. You moaned, feeling your body become indulged and your muscles soften. You smiled and laid back, the bubbles fizzing around your neck and chin, and Javier felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed your lips curl into a smile. It was the smile he would kill to see, and he hadn’t even realised how much he missed it.

“Just relax,” Javier soothed. “I’ll be back faster than you can count to ten.”

Javier ran into the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cupboards before racing back to the bathroom. Kneeling down by the side of the tub, he dipped the glass into the water, filling it up, and gently emptied it down your hair. 

“Close your eyes,” he requested, continuing to wet your hair ample enough until it was ready to be shampooed. Taking the bottle of his musky scented shampoo, Javier squirted the thick liquid into your scalp and began to massage it in. You couldn’t believe how gentle he was, and how he was taking his time with you. You’d never in a million years imagine Javier Peña being like this, or acting this intimate, with any woman -- especially not you. To be honest, his own behaviours were even coming to shock Javier. But he just let his instincts take over. He wanted to protect you and make sure you knew just how safe you were. That was the most important thing on his mind.

Once he rinsed your hair, he grabbed some soap and a sponge, handing them to you. “Do you uh-- uh-- do you think you can wash your own body?” He asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together. “If not, that’s okay. I can help. But--”

You smiled and rested a wet hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Javi. I’ll be fine.” you promised, taking the sponge from him. 

“I’m going to find you some clothes to change into.” He told you. “Shout if you need me. I won’t be long.”

And he stuck by his word. Javier raked through his drawers and picked out a pale yellow button down shirt that he hadn’t worn in a few years and a pair of boxer shorts. Padding back into the bathroom, he presented you with them. “It’s not much but it’s all I have,” he told you. “I’m sure Con will take you out shopping at some point. Or we can hop on back to your place tomorrow to grab some of your stuff,” You smiled and stood up, making sure to be careful not to slip this time. Javier held out the towel for you and wrapped you in it. “I’ll leave you to get dried.”

When Javier went back into the kitchen, he figured he should put the rest of the groceries away, only to notice that the once frozen paella ingredients had become defrosted and been rendered completely useless. “Shit.” Javier cursed, pushing them to one side and running a hand through his hair. Looks like after all of this, he couldn’t make paella tonight. He knew he was about to get an earful from Steve at work tomorrow.

“Do you like pizza?” Javier called, rummaging around for a take-out menu and grabbing his phone from the counter.

“I do!” you called back, buttoning up Javier’s shirt and wrapping a towel around your head.

When you padded into the kitchen, dressed in Javi’s clothes, the agent felt his throat dry up. You were a sight to behold. You smelt distinctly like him, but you already looked one thousand times better now that you were clean and comfortable. You felt better, too. It was amazing what a bath could do to you. You shimmied onto one of the bar stools Javier kept by the counter and rest your elbows against the laminate. Javier passed you the menu so you could look over the dishes.

You agreed on a simple chilli pizza, which was one of Javier’s favourites anyway. Javi called the deli and asked for a large, planning on sharing it with you. Remembering that you’d mentioned you were thirsty, he poured you a glass of water and handed it your way.

“Steve is gonna be so mad at me tomorrow,” Javier chuckled, rubbing his temple. You peeked up from the glass that you nursed and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I promised him paella and I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight. Not only that but he’s gonna ask me where I’ve been. He’ll know I wasn’t out getting groceries for three hours.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together and tilted your head. “Three hours? Where were you?”

Javier paused and absent-mindedly brushed a finger along his mustache. “I bumped into an ex at the store. Went back to her place and-- you know.”

Your eyes fell back into your glass of water. “Oh.”

Javier picked at his short fingernails and another sigh left his lips. “Shit, I just--” he shook his head. “Made a mistake. A very big mistake.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yeah, that would probably be for the best but how could he even begin to tell you what happened, when you were part of the problem? Javier figured it might even scare you away. “It doesn’t matter… she’s just…” Javier scratched his head. “She’s fine. It’s a ‘me’ problem, I think.”

The doorbell rang and Javier was grateful for the interruption. He paid the pizza delivery guy and sent the stone bake on the table.

“It looks good,” you smiled. “I’ve never had Colombian pizza.”

Javier’s jaw dropped. “You--?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Dulzura, how long have you lived here?” 

“A month,” you grinned, with a mouthful of pizza. “Tastes good.”

After you’d finished eating, it had gotten pretty late. You and Javier exchanged small talk, learning little things about each other. You liked it a lot. He had always been an enigma to you, and even though he offered little information, it was still something, and you appreciated that a lot.

“It’s been a difficult day,” Javier noted, folding the pizza box and throwing it away to be recycled. “You should take my bed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I’m fine on the sofa. Honestly.”

Javier sighed. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the sofa any longer. You’ll get back ache.”

“Then I’ll just use your bath salts.” You smirked in retaliation. Javier laughed and you relished the way small crinkles appeared in the corner of his honey coloured eyes.

“Please, take my bed.” Javier said, staring at you pointedly. His eyebrows were raised and his strong arms were crossed over his chest.

You were about to argue further but truthfully, sleeping in a bed tonight sounded like exactly what you needed. You took a few steps closer to Javier, a pool of butterflies swirling in your stomach as you broke any distance between you both. You wanted to kiss his lips so desperately, taste him once again. It was only earlier today you’d had your lips wrapped around his cock, and yet, so much had happened in between then and now. You wondered if Javier was thinking about it too.

“Get some sleep, hermosa.”

Your eyes were completely trained on his soft pink lips. You wanted to kiss-- you just wanted to kiss him. Just one kiss. Just one-- you leaned in and shut your eyes, and neared him, closer and closer... but Javier stepped away.

And you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

“Nothing personal,” he told you. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Nothing personal? How were you meant to accept that? You had literally sucked him off just a few hours ago and now he wouldn’t even grace you with a kiss? Maybe Rosa was right; you shouldn’t form crushes on clients. Especially not Javier Peña. You’d only get hurt. You tugged on the sleeves of his button down shirt and balled your fingers into a fist, trying to ignore the pain in your chest.

Without uttering a word, not even a ‘goodnight’, you sulked away and into his bedroom.

Javier wanted to shout out. He didn’t want you to be mad at him, or even upset. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. It took him all the strength he could muster to deny you of that kiss. Your perfect lips looked so soft and delicate and if Javier could have it his way, he would’ve taken you in that very moment.

But you were more than just a sex worker now. You were a compliance in the hunt to catch Escobar -- and he had to be careful. No matter what, he couldn’t risk losing track of the bigger picture.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[emiewritesthings]

the story of our life (2) - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

part one

masterlist

series summary: in which jay finds an old video camera and him and y/n decide to document their life as it progresses

a/n: this is about a year too late, but i finally got around to writing a part two to this, i was overwhelmed by the support last time. hope you enjoy :)

31st december 2013

if there was one thing that y/n hated, it was making small talk with a bunch of her neighbours. she knew how mean that sounded, but it was the truth. it was the way they worded their questions to serve both as jabs for informations with a hint of an insult, whilst covering it up with the largest fake smile that they could muster up. it was something mrs franklin, the 45 year old, mother of 4 had gotten well practised at, as y/n had the displeasure of finding out.

"so, how's the job hunt going? i know after you dropped out of university it must have been quite a struggle to keep afloat? isn't that why you are still living here with your mom?" she sneered, as she sipped innocently on the cheap bottle of wine y/n's mom had personally assigned just for her consumption. y/n had to restrain herself from slapping the glass clean out of her hand as she remembered what her mother had instilled in her for the last week in preparation for this exact moment.

"oops, i think i hear my mom calling. enjoy your night, yeah?" she stay posed, as she flashed one more faux smile before striding away from the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed whatever was closest and downed it as quick as she could, frowning at the permanent numbness that hollowed out her entire body.

her head was ringing from the chatter that filled the house, and that would most likely continue until the new year had been welcomed in. the laughter and smiles that were being thrown around didn't sit right with y/n, for what was another year if it was just going to be like the last two. her life had imploded in her hands leaving nothing but a body behind that had no choice but to survive.

"y/n!" someone called out from the other room, however before they had a chance to find her, y/n grabbed two beers from the fridge and shimmied out the back door. the sudden fan of cold december air on her face made her entire chest burn, but y/n liked it, at least it broke the monotony. even if it was just for a couple minutes.

avoiding eye contacts with everyone she passed, y/n found herself rounding her own house until she was stood in the driveway of the neighbouring one. a small smile etching itself on her face as her eyes were met with the old, rotten porch swing that was missing the woman that would be doing her crossword or simply sipping on a cup of coffee no matter the hour. a shiver ran down the woman's back, realising there would not be another moment that she got to see that again.

the house had stayed the same even after all these years, the same paint was chipping away and the wood door was still damaged from where a football had hit it repeatedly during the early years of their sons' lives. however unlike the busy chaos that had once been habituated in the abode, no lights could be seen, no life. just a dull darkness that highlighted how the house she once had known, the family, couldn't be any more different.

pushing past the knot in her stomach, y/n approached the gate to the back garden that was slightly ajar. as she investigated further, a small smile etched itself upon her lips as she was met with two white plastic garden chairs, in one sat pat halstead, whilst the other remained empty.

"well, well, i thought your mother would have chained you to your seat to stop you from pulling a fast one." pat teased, as his eyes strayed away from the dark sky to inspect the woman. patting the seat besides him, the twenty something year old collapsed down into it, before handing one of the cans over to the man, receiving a whispered 'thank you'.

"she got distracted by the mini quiches like an hour ago and i haven't seen her since. couldn't stay there much longer, celia and claire were debating whose husband was the biggest deadbeat." she sighed, as the pair clinked their cans together before they took a longing sip of the liquid, and slipped further down the slightly cracked plastic. her eyes were drawn upwards into the pre-midnight bleakness. however where the winter clouds usually suffocated it, there was a small breaking where two stars shone proudly above them.

"beautiful aren't they?" pat pointed out, clearly confirming y/n's thoughts that the two stars had been the same thing that had caught his interest when she first arrived. running a hand over the wiry beard he had grown over the last two years, his eyes began to water. "uh, sometimes i like to think it's liz and your old man up there, sure she would be chatting his ear off about you and your brother. as well as watching over our jay wherever he may be."

y/n was taken off guard by the older man's comments, but she tried to contain it. in the years she had known pat halstead, it was extremely rare that he voiced his honest opinion about anything. or at least one that wasn't followed by a sarcastic grumble or insult. but to talk about his wife and his son, as well as his best friend, with such emotion brought tears to y/n's eyes.

"you haven't heard from him have you?" she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she truly wanted the answer. the last communication she had with the youngest halstead had been throughout the last period of his mother's life until a little after the funeral, however after not receiving a reply once again and her life on a down spiral she surrendered.

"no, no i haven't," however y/n couldn't help notice that something didn't seem right. maybe it was the way that he shuffled in his chair, refusing to pull his eyes away from the sky to meet her own sad ones. however before she got the chance to confront him, he brought himself to his feet. "wait one moment, i have something for you." watching as he disappeared back into the house, y/n tried to figure out what was going on with him? maybe he wasn't sleeping again? it had been the same for months after the funeral, but she thought he was healing just slightly. she really hoped he had been.

a couple moments later, pat reemerged this time the thing he held in his hands had stolen every inch of y/n's focus. the metal lump that held a thousand memories was being cradled, similar to the way she had been holding it when he had handed it to pat. the sound of his wife's voice in the last clip was something that pat had severed for the last year and a half. it was the thing he would fall asleep to and the thing he would play when he woke up. his liz was still alive in the camera, she was still his liz.

"i thought- i thought you-." y/n couldn't muster up a single thought to vocalise as she was passed the camera. her eyes ran over each dint, scratch, stain that had been acquired over the years. every memory she severed had the image of the red flashing light in it, and yet the person in those videos was someone she no longer recognised.

"this is your life, and i know it feels like it's over, but you have so much to live for and if these videos don't show you that then i don't know what else will." in a rush of uncontrollable emotion, pat wrapped his arms around the daughter he never had and held her as she let out a quiet sob, unsure how to feel.

returning to their seats, pat held y/n's hand as they sat for what felt like days watching the sky deepen. as pat seemed to pray to the heavens that his liz was alright, y/n let her mind run ablaze with unresolved thoughts and emotions as she watched video after video.

it was moments before 2014 came along when her phone let out a painful shrill in search of attention. letting out a small groan, she pulled it from her back pocket, pausing the prom video to answer.

"hello?" she answered.

"y/n where are you? come on, the countdowns about to begin!" her mother yelled clearly unable to hear herself. sighing, looking over to pat who seemed to be hiding something in his eyes, she agreed before hanging up the phone.

"it's not too late for you to come with me you know..." she fluttered her eyes in a humorous attempt at convincing him. the deep chuckle that arose from pat's chest spoke enough for her to work out what was coming next.

"as much as i would love to chit chat with celia and clare over a mini quiche, i'm gonna have to decline." pushing herself off the chair, she leaned over to kiss his cheek softly, pulling away to see the small smile.

"happy new year, pat."

"happy new year, y/n."

--

the moment she reappeared in her house, she was pretty much been jostled around. somehow the camera that she had walked in with had disappeared from her gasp, and she had made her way to her mother's sight closest to the tv as the countdown clock appeared on the screen. the way her mother smiled at her was slightly unnerving, she knew the woman better than anyone in this world, and just like pat, she was hiding something.

"ten!" they began to chant.

"nine!"

"eight!"

"seven!" a drink was pushed into her hands, which she concerningly took without hesitation. she wasn't even sure who gave it her, but a drink was exactly what she needed right now.

"six!"

"five!"

"four!"

"three!"

"two!"

"one!" suddenly the tv screen was a picturesque screen of fireworks exploding around the country before the whole room erupted in a cheer.

"happy new year!" suddenly everyone was locking lips with their loved ones, friends and whoever was closest to them. however y/n tried to step back, and disappear into the crowd offering a couple of smiles until suddenly she hit something, or someone.

"shit, i'm sorry." she immediately gasped as the drink she was holding splashed against the dress she was wearing, however when she turned to look at her victim her mouth dried out.

there, stood in her living room was jay halstead, in the same uniform that she had last seen him stood in on her doorstep the day he left. what felt like the whole world silencing was actually just everyone in the room turning to look at the pair of them, smiling as they watched the reunion of the couple that never was. however they neither jay or y/n could pull there eyes away from their counterpart.

for a moment they were 17 again, teenagers that didn't know a thing about the world whilst experiencing it together. but this was different, for they were older now. jay's face was more mature, with stumble around his jaw that made him look more in his twenties. y/n's hair was much longer and ever so slightly darker, but jay remembered how the winter did that to her.

"hi." jay smiled, reaching forward to move stands of her hair behind her ears to avoid it from covering up those eyes that were far more fragmented than they had been before. but then again y/n saw the exact same distortion in his own, like half a heart that was on the edge of collapsing.

but at the sound of his voice, y/n fell face first into reality. she remembered every unanswered letter, the loss of hope when she laid in bed completely alone wondering if he was even still alive. she recalled the nights she would sleep on the hospital chair besides his dying mother praying to every god out there that he would be brought back in time to to say goodbye. but it didn't happen, she was left in a void and she didn't know if she would ever be able to get out.

"i-i need to go." she suddenly mumbled, quickly brushing past the army ranger and through the crowd. the awkward, confrontational silence that remained in the room was already enough to tip her over the edge, which only worsened when she saw the red flashing light. stood on the stairs filming the whole debacle was her little brother, who wasn't so little anymore. noticing the shift in mood, he awkwardly lowered it and offered her a sad smile, before she escaped out the door.

what are you doing, she thought, you finally get him back and you are trying to create distance between you two? that was just one of the many nags that bounced off each memory relaying in her mind. so this was what was wrong with pat, he must of known. he knew what was planned, and he said nothing. y/n couldn't blame him, there was no one in this city that would have predicted that she would just walk out like that, well maybe one but he had only just rejoined her life so she couldn't be sure.

her feet lead her to where her heart wanted to be, she cursed herself out for being so stupid as to wear a dress and not grab a jacket during her whole walk out. but the bite of the wind wore off the more blocks that passed until she reached the old creaky gate.

pushing against the metal, even in the pitch black she knew her way. the amount of times she had ended up late at night in this very place gave her that advantage. as she approached the engraved slab that she had helped pat pay for, a sob raked through her body.

"god i wish you could be here right now," crouching down, she leaned forward to run her cold fingertips over the 'ELIZABETH HALSTEAD' scripture. mrs halstead always knew what to say, in any situation. jay and y/n used to blame it on the abundance of dr phil episodes she had watched over the years. yet there was a depth to her words that made your problem feel shared rather than suffocating. "although i'm sure you would be cursing me out right about now for being such an idiot." she thought out loud, remembering what the woman had said when she had told her about the kiss she had shared with the older's son.

she had joked about how it took long enough and what she was going to wear to their wedding, neither of them considering the possibility that she wouldn't get chance for her theory to prosper.

"if that's true, then she must despise me right now." the sudden introduction to the deep voice nearly produced a scream from the woman that turned to see jay staring longingly at the gravestone. just as he brought his eyes to her's, she quickly turned back around, running her hands over her face wondering if he would disappear and all of this would have just been a dream. only it wasn't it was something much more chaotic, filled with resentment, love and the unknown.

"your mom loved you and will more than anything, i don't think she could despise you if she tired," she hummed through a sigh, as jay took a seat besides her. similar to how she had, he leaned forward to run his fingertips over the softened stone, muttering something that he hoped only his mother would hear.

"i really fucked up, y/n/n," hearing the crack rip through his voice, had y/n's head snapping over to him as his shoulders shook slightly as he wrestled with his sadness. "i wasn't here when she needed me most, i wasn't here when you needed me most. she was dying and i wasn't even there to tell her i loved her, what kind of son am i?" the torment that was present in jay's eyes as he turned to look at the only woman that was on the earth to love him ate at y/n's soul, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him, comforting him like he did after the death of her father.

"you a son that made his mother unconditionally proud. she never stopped telling one everyone at hospital about her boys." swiping tears away from under his eyes, ignorant to her own that burnt a trail down her skin.

"i'm not the same guy that left 5 years ago, what i've seen, what i've done-," jay let out a deep breath trying not to fall into the a box of memories he wish he could set alight and never have to face ever again. thankfully the feeling of y/n's fingers tracing nothing in particular against his back grounded him, reminding him that he had been reunited with his home, with his family, with his first and only love. "i got out of there, but that doesn't mean that the war in my mind isn't still on going."

y/n wished she had the answer, a solution, something to help him but she just didn't know what to say. instead she pulled him in tighter, feeling every tip in the think material of the uniform. a uniform that wasn't the jay she knew, but the jay that the army had created, but she knew underneath the camo was still the boy that held her when she feared the lightening outside, or the teenager that broke bryson ellis' nose after he spread rumours about their brief romantic encounter. he was her saviour, he always had been.

"your letters, i did get them. got each one of them in my bag, used to read them before i went to bed. i tried writing back, but i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't make anything better and i didn't want you to worry, but i realise that i only made everything worse. i'm just so sorry." pulling away, now it was jay's turn to hold her. in fact he pulled her so close that she was practically in his lap, embracing his body heat with open arms.

"everything's changed, jay," she mumbled, her forehead resting on his chest as she spoke softly. "your mom's gone, your dad's lost, and- and then you and me. last time we saw each other we kissed, we kissed. i- just, i don't know what's happening but i can't stop it." for a moment they both sat there, taking in just how much had changed since they had last been y/n and jay not y/n and jay.

with much care, jay placed his hands around her jay prompting her to look at him. the intense look in his eyes didn't falter for a minute, as he admired the swirls of colour in her's.

"i have been in love with you my entire life, and that is one thing that will never change." declaring his love for y/n y/l/n had always been something jay fantasised about, even as he was stood in a war zone, however never had he imagined it would be in a grave yard nearly an hour into the new year as they fought against the frost. but then again, he didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was by the side of his girl, his love, his y/n.

in a rash moment of euphoria, y/n grabbed his face and pushed his lips against his as if making her own statement to the universe. every ounce of her own soul fuelled itself into something so powerful that was out of the pair's hands. as jay moved his lips against her own, the meaning burnt their insides until they had no choice but to pull away to catch their breath.

with their foreheads touching, for the first time in what felt like 5 years a genuine grin was mirrored on the pairs lips.

"i'm in love with you too." y/n breathed out ruggedly, clearly catching jay by suprised as his eyes widened before the smile on his face got wider.

"wait really?" those had been the words he had wished to hear for every birthday since he was 11, now hearing them made everything a little more brighter. his heart was bumping so quickly, y/n could feel it against her own, yet she said nothing, too caught up in the moment.

"i think it was ignorant of me to think i wasn't years ago. you are it for me, jay halstead." she smiled leaning forward to press another kiss on his lips, this time though it felt as though she was putting the final period on the end of a chapter that neither of them wanted to experience again. for this was a new beginning, the beginning of the story of their lives, together.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly is making friends and life is settling into a routine until Molly gets sick and Tom takes care of her.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Molly left that afternoon with two new numbers in her phone and a lunch date for next week.

“Can’t believe you are having lunch with my mother and sister without me.” Tom pouted on the way back.

“Once they heard I wasn’t working and didn’t know anyone, they insisted. Was I supposed to say no?” 

“You could have scheduled it when I could come.” 

“But you are so busy. And talented.” She poked his side. 

“I’m driving here, darling.”

“Sorry, but just one question…” They pulled up to a red light.”

“What?”

“Are you ticklish?” she attacked his side and Tom squirmed and giggled.

“You will be the death of me.” He panted as Molly stopped when the light was green.

“Note to self. Tom is very ticklish.” 

“No, no notes to self. That is something you can promptly forget.”

Molly batted her eyelashes. “But real husbands and wives would know these things about each other. We have to pull this off for an entire year, right?”

“Fine, but expect revenge.” Tom wagged a finger at Molly. 

“I’ll sleep with one eye open.” 

-

Over the next several weeks, Tom and Molly fell in a routine. The marriage certificate came in the mail and they applied for a family visa for Molly to stay there.

“I didn’t think you would want to become a citizen.”

Molly smirked. “No, not right now.”

A new debit card came in for Molly. 

“With great power…” Tom handed it over.

“Yeah, yeah, Loki.” she tucked into her wallet. “I am burdened with glorious purpose. To keep you well fed.” 

Molly had a standing date with Emma every two weeks, much to Tom’s consternation. They continued running together in the mornings. Tom, more often than not, ended it with a kiss. 

“This is becoming quite the nasty habit, Mr. Hiddleston.” she commented one morning.

“Then stop me, Mrs. Hiddleston.” He pecked her lips again. 

Molly blushed. “You just love what they are saying about us in the papers.” She pushed Tom away and towards the door. 

“I will admit the good news is definitely a perk. Plus, you are such lovely company.” He went to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“You are all sweaty, Tom. Take a shower and I will make breakfast.”

“French toast?” he asked hopefully.

“You ate the last of the bread yesterday.” 

“Pancakes?”

“I think I can swing pancakes, if…” She held up a finger. “You also eat a side of fruit.”

“Deal.” Tom headed towards his room wearing a huge grin. 

Molly shook her head as she grabbed a mixing bowl out. “Lunatic.”

-

One morning, Molly wasn’t awake when Tom got up to run. She almost always beat Tom up, sipping a cup of tea in the living room, reading a magazine or one of the books from his shelf. There was a small stack building on a side table of the ones she finished reading. But that morning, no half-drunk cup of tea perched precariously on the coffee table. No crossword puzzle half done in pen. 

Tom peaked into Molly’s bedroom. The covers, in colors of navy and grey, just like his, pulled up tight around her. There were a few prints of classic travel posters on the wall. 

“Molly, darling.” He called out. Usually that was all it took to roust Molly from her sleep and get her going for the day. Today, nothing. Tom stepped into the room. He felt like an intruder in his own home. 

“It’s time for our run, love.” He said a bit louder this time. 

Molly rolled over, groaning and coughing. Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that cough. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked Molly gently by the shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” He hoped it was just allergies or waking up in the morning. But then she woke up.

“Uggh, Tom?” Molly croaked out before rolling onto her back. She was pale. So much more pale than usual. She coughed again, covering her mouth. 

“It’s me, Molly. Are you feeling alright?” He repeated. “That’s some cough.”

“I’m fine, fine. It’s just,” She waved him off and pushed up to sitting, only to fall back onto the pillows. “oh, that’s not good.” 

Tom placed the back of his hand to her forehead and replaced it with his lips, checking her temperature. She was running hot. 

“You have a fever. I’m making you an appointment to see the doctor.” He stood, but Molly caught his wrist. Her palm clammy against Tom’s skin.

“No! It’s just a cold. Go on your run. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.” She insisted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” 

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her very warm forehead. “I’ll keep it short. Go back to sleep.”

Molly nodded and rolled over. Tom tucked the covers around her and headed out. He barely made it to the end of the street before he returned home. It confirmed his fears when he stepped back inside and heard Molly coughing. Tom grabbed the phone and searched for a number and called it.

“Yes, Urgent Care? Do you have any appointments today? Name? Molly Hiddleston. Thank you.”

-

Tom helped Molly get dressed, averting his eyes when appropriate. Her entire body burned under his fingertips, but Tom noticed her shivering. She stumbled to the car where she slept the entire ride over to urgent care. Tom did his best to fill out the paperwork.

“What do you put for family history?”

“Nothing. Unless there is a place for mental illness, then check that. That’s all I know about. Mom didn’t chat much.” Molly muttered, leaning heavily against Tom. “Meth does that…” Her brow furrowed and she coughed again. 

“Shh, darling.” Tom soothed her. “Only happy thoughts.”

Molly hummed and smiled. “Happy thoughts.” More coughing. 

It took twenty minutes before they called Molly back. They didn’t let Tom back with her. He alternated between sitting with a bouncing knee, pretending to read on his phone and pacing the waiting room, making the other people nervous. After forty-five minutes, before Molly returned with several papers in her hand. She coughed again.

“Upper respiratory infection,” cough. “Along with a sinus infection and a viral infection.”

Tom smiled. “Triple threat. Let’s get you home.”

Molly’s hand, holding the papers, flopped up. “I have prescriptions and they want to see me again in two weeks. To make sure I don’t get pneumonia.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s a possibility?”

Molly nodded. “It’s all in here.”

Tom took all the papers, skimming them, including a script for antibiotics as well as a cough suppressant. It all sounded grim. “Let’s get you to bed and I will take care of getting these filled.”

Molly coughed and nodded. “Thank you.” 

She fell back asleep in the car. Tom carried into the house, not having the heart to wake her up again, and settled her into his bed, which was bigger, more comfortable and the bathroom was right there. Once she was settled and asleep, he headed off to the pharmacy. While waiting in line, Tom dialed Luke. 

“Luke, is there anything absolutely pressing in the schedule for the next three days?” he asked after Luke picked up. 

“Nothing I can’t reschedule, why?”

“Molly’s ill.” He bit his lips and sighed. “The doctors are afraid it might turn into pneumonia. And I…”

“Consider your schedule cleared until Monday. And tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’m worried about her.”

“That’s because you love her, Tom. You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.” Luke chuckled.

Tom paused at Luke’s words but pushed it away. Of course he cared for Molly. That has the tendency to happen when you live with a person for nearly three months. Especially someone as congenial as Molly. Congenial wasn’t the word. Lovely. Molly was lovely. He laughed it off. “I worry about you too, Luke. I got to go.”

“Take care of her. Bye, Tom.” 

After picking you the medicine, Tom popped into the grocery store and picked up some soup, drinks, and Molly’s favorite cookies. When he got back, she was still asleep. And still coughing. He put away the groceries and then checked on her.

“Darling, I’m back with the medicine. Time to take it.” He helped her sit up, Molly groaning the entire time. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water, gagging.

“That’s awful!” she coughed. 

“Now the cough medicine.” Tom poured out the cough syrup and handed it over to Molly. She hesitated, sniffing it first. “Take the medicine and get a biscuit.” He held up a package of cookies.

“They’re cookies. I thought I ate the last of them.” she moaned, downing the cough syrup. Her face contorted. Tom smiled and handed her two cookies. “Good girl. Now rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work?” Molly muttered as she laid back down. Tom pulled the covers over her, putting the cookies on the nightstand. “You had… interviews… or something…”

“My schedule is clear through the weekend. I am at your disposal.” Tom rubbed Molly’s back, and she purred. 

“You don’t need to do that.” She half-heartedly complained, dozing off.

“And leave you to fend for yourself? What kind of husband would I be? It was no trouble. Now sleep, darling.”

“Mmm… kay.” 

-

Tom busied himself with absolutely nothing. He flitted from reading a book to watching a TV show to peeking into the bedroom. At one point, when Molly was particularly quiet, he seriously contemplated putting a mirror under her nose to just make sure he was still breathing. He managed to get her to eat half a bowl of soup. 

“You need to eat, love.” he scolded.

Molly coughed and croaked. “Says the man who considers chocolate a food group.” 

“Look at that, some humour.” Tom smiled. “Eat please.”

“Yes, sir.” She slurped the soup off the spoon before falling back asleep. 

Tom, worried, did the unthinkable. He called his mum for advice.

“She’s coughing. A lot. And all she does is sleep.” Tom ran his hands through his hair. 

“Is she eating, love?” Diana asked. Tom could feel the smile across the phone.

“A bit, but not as much as usual. I brought her soup.”

“Soup is good. And she is taking her medicine?”

Tom nodded. “I set a timer.”

“Of course you did. And the fever?”

Tom blinked. “What about her fever?”

“Has it broken?”

“I don’t—”

“Tom!” Molly’s bedraggled voice called out.

“I gotta go. She needs me.” Tom hung up the phone and sprinted to the room. 

“Molly! What is it?” He noted she was shivering.

“I’m cold.” she chattered. Tom grabbed the blanket at the foot of his bed. 

“Is that better?” He tucked it under Molly’s chin. Tom touched her forehead. Hot.

“Much.” 

“I’ll let you rest.” He patted her shoulder and stood. Molly reached out for him.

“Stay.” She coughed. “At least until I fall asleep. Please lie down. Just five minutes.”

Tom’s heart broke in that moment for Molly. That confident woman he grew so fond of seemed so small in that moment.

“Of course, I’ll stay. Anything for you.” Tom crawled on top of the covers next to Molly. He laced his fingers in hers. He heard her exhaled, and he exhaled too. 

“Sleep well, darling.” But Molly had already fallen asleep. Tom soon followed.

-

Molly woke the next morning in sweat soaked pajamas and on top of drenched sheets. She still coughed, but her fever was gone. As she blinked her eyes open, Molly realized she wasn’t in her bed, but Tom’s. And Tom was there too. Asleep next to her, fully dressed, holding her hand. She had vague memories of Tom bringing her soup and her asking him to stay. And some very not safe for work dreams. 

“Fever dreams.” she muttered. “Tom…” Molly rocked his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tom sat up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s hard to be a nurse. I think your sheets may need washing.” she smiled.

Tom pressed his lips to her forehead. “No fever.” His spirits lifted. 

“It must have broken last night.”

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

Tom noticed their hands still laced together. He let go and stood up. He made a poor attempt at smoothing out his sleep wrinkled clothes. “Up to move to the couch? And maybe some movies?”

“I would like that.” She slowly sat up and got out of bed. “But first a shower.”

Tom frowned. “First medicine, then shower.”

“Nurse Ratched.” Tom didn’t smile or budge. Molly sighed. “Fine, medicine, the shower.”

Tom grabbed the bottles and dispensed the medicine, which she took still gagging. “And a biscuit.” He handed her a cookie. 

“Cookie.” She popped it into her mouth and headed off to her room and Tom went to his own bathroom. 

-

Once they were both showered and dressed, Tom popped his sheets into the laundry and made a makeshift bed on the couch for Molly.

“You pick the movie.” she offered. “That way if I fall asleep, you won’t be bored.” 

Tom picked The Jungle Book. “One of my favorites as a child. I still watch it when I feel under the weather.”

“I don’t think I have seen it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “That is a travesty.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “You know, group homes, foster care…”

Tom stopped. “Well, we are going to watch this right now and you can listen to the vocal genius that is George Sanders as Shere Khan.”

“More of a vocal genius than you?” Molly raised an eyebrow while she settled onto the couch. 

Tom blushed. “A man-cub, how delightful.” He purred deep in his chest, sending shivers through Molly.

By the end of the movie, Molly’s head was in Tom’s lap and his hand in hers. They watched Disney movies for the rest of day, alternating picking the title. Tom made sure she took her meds on time and ate more than just cookies.

“I will eat a meal if you do.” Molly chided.

They both ate soup and Tom also ate a sandwich. It was late when they finished up Robin Hood. Molly stretched and sat up.

“I should go to bed.”

“I can put the sheets back on the bed.” Tom moved, but she stopped him, squeezing his hand.

“My bed. But I will keep the door open so you can spy on me.” She smirked. “I can’t take your bed again.”

“It’s fine if you did. I don’t mind sharing.”

“I know but…” She glanced away. “We should keep our own space. To keep things from getting complicated.”

Tom nodded. “Right. No complications here.” he lied to her and to himself.

Molly hugged Tom tight. “Thank you for everything, Tom.”

“My pleasure.”

She coughed a bit as she headed off to her room. Tom turned off the TV and cleaned the dishes before going to bed himself. He spent most of the night tossing and turning.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

I Had To Know Pain Before I Could Be Comforted

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

Requested by @steveyouarelate : “37 (Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.) and 50 (I’m sorry I’m not enough for you) (with an happy ending, please) with billie dean x reader”

A/N: there’s a lot of crying and wallowing in self-pity in this one, you’ve been warned. I wanted it to have a tragic ending but you asked for happy, so here you go. I hope you’ll like it <3

Title is a line translated from this song.

Word count: ≈ 3 700

Someone catcalled you from across the street but you didn’t find it in you to care. You had no idea where you were. Night was falling, the cold, crisp air was biting your cheeks and making your whole body shiver. You could barely feel your fingers anymore. Your feet hurt. But the pain and the cold felt good. If you could, you would close your eyes and let yourself sink into it to forget everything else.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. You kept on walking, straight ahead, left around a corner, past an old man sitting on a bench. He said something to you you did not understand. A car honked nearby. Let it. Let it hit you and put an end to your misery.

Your phone buzzed again. “Oh for fuck’s sake, leave me alone,” you muttered. But even as you said it, your hand reached in your pocket for your phone. Your heart swelled with a bubble of hope, that perhaps it would be her, that perhaps her words would be the right ones and they would make everything better. You turned on the screen and read your notifications.

Coming home soon? x

I’m making mackerel in white wine

It was the cold wind that made you tear up, nothing else. Certainly not the image of Billie in the kitchen, dressed in comfy clothes, sipping a glass of expensive white wine, hips swaying to some mellow jazz song as she chopped herbs and vegetables and stirred the sauce. Sassy, brave, confident, and just a little bit reckless Billie. How you adored her. She was everything to you.

Blinking back your tears, you texted her back a few words saying you were going to spend the night at your dad’s. That was a lie, but you really couldn’t face her right now.

And it wasn’t your fault, really. You had never meant to be so messed-up. But Billie – she was the sun, she was the moon and the stars in the sky and beyond, no matter how cliché that sounded, and you… you were lying on the ground covered with dirt. You were nothing. You had not achieved a single good thing in your life. You couldn’t talk to people without making a complete fool of yourself, you had no talent, no beauty, only a boring, dull personality.

You carried that knowledge in your chest like a rock. Most of the time its weight was bearable; but there were days when the rock seemed to expand and expand until it took all the room in your chest. When that happened, nothing could bring you relief. Negativity would cloud your mind. Dark little thoughts would chirp in your ears like birds in the spring. Useless, they would sing. Boring. Worthless, they would sing.

Today was one of those days. You had woken up with a feeling of dread and dejection and it had required all of your strength to get out of bed. Luckily Billie had left for work early; you didn’t want to bother her with your problems and your bad mood. And then things had just gotten worse and worse.

Today you had lost your job. Your boss had warned you several times before: you weren’t as efficient as your co-workers, you didn’t work fast enough, didn’t smile enough. You simply were not enough. So today he had held the front door open for you and slammed it behind you and had not even bothered to hide his satisfied smirk. Since then, you had walked. Roamed the streets, tried to make one with the cold.

Your phone rang. Billie’s name appeared on your screen. You stared at it for a moment before you accepted the call. You knew she may very well drive to your dad’s if you ignored her, and then what? She’d know you had lied to her. Besides, a tiny part of you was still hoping she would know what to say, she would just know, without you having to tell her, and that rock in your chest would turn to dust and flowers would bloom in its place.

“Hi sweetpea,” said Billie. Her voice was cheerful, but you knew her well enough now to hear the tinge of worry in it.

“Hey,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. Are you mad?”

There was a soft clang, something metallic being moved. “Of course I’m not. But are you sure you’re alright?”

You closed your eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m fine. My dad just really needs company right now.”

Did she even care? Or was she relieved that you wouldn’t be spending the night together?

“I’m sorry you made dinner for me,” you went on, eyes still shut tight.”I should have warned you, but he –“

“It’s fine, Y/N, really,” Billie cut you off. “We have that wonderful thing called a fridge that I can use to store leftovers.”

A small laugh escaped you.

“But I’ll miss you,” Billie said. She paused, and again you pictured her, her free hand on the counter, fingers drumming, an apron tied around her waist, hair as perfectly done as if she were about to attend a movie premiere. Another small laugh escaped you, affectionate, incredibly sad.

“Me too. I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you.”You hung up before she had time to say it back. You weren’t sure you could hear those words from her right now.

What would she think when you told her you had lost the one thing that still made you a person of value to the world? You couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on her face. She would be kind, of course, and tell you not to worry. Maybe she would even say that she still loved you. But that wouldn’t be true. Billie deserved someone who, like her, had shot for the stars and made it. Someone who shone as bright as she did, someone she could be proud of – not a liability like you.

You walked. When you took a look at your surroundings, you realized you didn’t know that part of the city. It looked like a wealthy residential neighbourhood, big white houses with large porches, impeccably mown lawns. The streets were deserted. You walked.

Spending the night at your dad’s wasn’t even an option. He was too boisterous, too loud. Your best friend would know something was wrong the minute she’d take a look at your face, and then she would ask questions, demand answers you didn’t want to give her. So you kept on walking, dragging around that rock which after so many years had become a part of you. You didn’t even know if you would want to get rid of it. It felt like company now.

A bridge, across a canal. Past the city hall. You reached downtown, busy, wild, buzzing with life. People brushed past you and laughed at each other and talked too loudly. The city watched you roam without offering the least bit of comfort. You had tried to find solace in its streets hundreds of times before, fueled by the naive belief that the city would welcome you with open arms and a kind smile. But the city was indifferent and selfish. The city sneered at the lost souls that wandered the night.

Maybe you could get a hotel room. You stopped in front of the first hotel you found and stared at the door, but soon realized you were incapable of going in. It was as if your legs had frozen, as if some sort of force were pushing you away. So you walked on. Your heart was secretly singing for home.

But you couldn’t go home. You couldn’t do that to Billie. You were a burden to her, and that had to stop. She had too many great things to achieve, a whole future made of gold and diamonds and glorious victories, to be held down by someone like you. So shut up, you ordered your heart. Don’t yearn for something you do not deserve.

You walked. You walked until you were sure your feet were bleeding and every muscle in your legs was screaming in agony. A little past midnight your mind went numb. You walked. At 1am a dog barked at you, at 1:34 a drunk whistled and called for you to come with him. At 2:30 you finally looked up and realized your aching feet had led you back home.

You tried, you really did, to go away. Go back downtown, get a freaking hotel room to spend the night. Your feet led you to the front door, your hand turned the key in the lock. You could sleep on the couch, you told yourself. You could sleep on the couch, and leave at dawn before Billie woke up.

The house was dark and silent. You waited a few seconds, your heart beating fast in your chest, listening for any sound, any indication that Billie was still awake. Nothing. You took off your coat and shoes, and dropped your bag on the floor. You waited a few seconds more. When you had convinced yourself Billie was asleep, you tip-toed all the way to the living-room. The floor was cold under your feet, the walls seemed to be closing in on you in the dark.

You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but you weren’t sure your stomach could hold food right now. All you wanted was to collapse on the couch and bury your face in the pillows and sleep. Forget that you existed.

Your right foot slammed into a suitcase you had not bothered to put away earlier in the day. A curse escaped you, low and angry, and out of the corner of your eye you saw something stir in the darkness of the living-room. You jumped, raising an arm to defend yourself, and squinted at the shape that straightened and turned, light from outside falling on strawberry blond hair.

Billie reached out to turn on a lamp and grimaced as the bright light blinded her. She raised one hand to shield her eyes, blinking away sleep. There was a red mark on her left cheek, and you quickly realised she had fallen asleep at the table while doing crosswords. She often did that, when she couldn’t sleep. Crosswords helped her focus when her mind was buzzing with too many thoughts.

She met your eyes, blinked again, and then she smiled. You stood frozen as if you had turned into a statue, the mad pumping of your heart the only sign that you were still alive.

You could have tried to make a joke. You could have lied to her again, said you had tucked your dad in and left. Instead, your throat closed up, your heart dropped into your stomach, and to your utter shame and despair you felt your eyes fill with tears.

You were so tired. How so tired of being you.

All you wanted was to sink into Billie’s arms.

For a minute there was only silence. You watched as Billie’s expression turned from surprised to happy to confused. Oh God, what would she think of you? How she would despise you. She would think you were a sad, pitiful creature and she would be right.

You prayed for something, anything, an earthquake, a meteor crash, a tidal wave even though you lived miles from the ocean, that would put an end to your miserable life.

Billie stood up, smoothing one hand over her wrinkled clothes. Only now did you notice that she hadn’t changed from work. Had she been waiting for you this whole time? Your heart tightened in your chest. No, that couldn’t be. She had probably tried to make the best of her one evening of freedom, her one happy evening when she could celebrate your being finally out of her hair.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” she said with a small smug smile. She held out one hand as if to touch you and you flinched. She noticed, and her smile wavered.

“Are you alright?”

“I –“ With a shake of your head you took a few steps away from her, your throat thick with tears, and when you shot her a glance her face was blurry but you could still see the damned worry in her eyes –

“Y/N what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice getting higher and shaky as it always did when she was anxious. She walked up to you, but kept enough distance between you and her so as not to make you feel cornered.

“I lost my job.” The words tumbled out without permission. You were so tired. You just wanted to be held. “I got fired because I couldn’t do my job properly.”

Silence.

That was it, then. You had lost her. She was seeing you for who you really were; the veil love had dropped over her eyes was finally being lifted.

You couldn’t look at her, so you closed your eyes and let your tears fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, one hand coming up to your chest for it was too tight, it was crushing your heart and it hurt too much. “Billie, I’m so sorry I keep disappointing you.”

A hand, on your arm. A question, barely above a whisper. “Honey, what do you mean?”

A sob pushed out of your throat, loud and painful and so despicable. “I’m sorry I’m not enough for you.”

She let out a noise, a gasp, but to you it sounded like a contemptuous, mocking laugh, a laugh that said, Look at you, pitiful, pitiful little creature.

“Y/N,” she started, but you shook your head. You still couldn’t look at her.

“Listen, I’ll get my things, I understand. Just – let me sleep here tonight. Please. I’ll sleep on the couch, only for tonight, and then I’ll leave I’ll – “

“Y/N what are you talking about?”

You felt her grip on your arm tighten, acrylics digging into your skin.

“Just one more night, please, Billie,” you begged.

“Shut up. Stop talking. You’re not making any sense, honey.”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried.

A hand on your cheek. You almost flinched, almost recoiled, but you managed to stop yourself from doing so. There was no need to hurt her more than you already had.

“Please stop apologizing,” Billie whispered. Why did she sound so broken? “Tell me what to do. What can I do?”

You shook your head again, choked on a sob. Billie’s thumb was gently stroking your cheek, catching your tears and wiping them away.

“Lie to me,” you whispered. “I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again. Tell me I can be enough for you.” You opened your eyes, then, and looked up at her. And you could have hit yourself, you could have stabbed your chest and ripped off your heart, for her face was coated with tears that dripped down her chin, and her gaze was so terribly sad.

She let out a strangled breath. “Oh, Y/N… come here, come here baby.”

You didn’t even try to fight her. Your body sank into hers like a stone into water. Your hands slid up her back to grab fistfuls of her shirt as you buried your face in her shoulder. She wrapped one arm around your waist and put her other hand on the back of your head, pressing you closer against her. She was being so gentle, so loving, dropping kisses on your temple, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear – it only made you cry harder. Because you were going to lose this, to lose her, and you’d never have the strength nor the will to find that kind of sweet love ever again.

She started humming, a soft tune, as she rocked you like a child and you sobbed and wailed. Her voice was always a little bit raspy when she sang, a little bit out of tune, never quite managing to hit the right notes. Hearing her sing always soothed you. She ran her fingers through your hair, acrylics gently grazing your skull, just the way you liked it, because it always made your skin tingle everywhere.

Damn her, she knew you so well. She knew exactly how to help you calm down, how to make part of that ache in your chest disappear.

Minutes passed. Billie was still humming when you finally felt like you could breathe again. You turned your head, pressed your cheek against her shoulder – her blouse was wet now, you had done that, ruined it as you always ruined everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, relishing the smell of her, so precious, so loved – you would have to keep it safely stored in your mind to never forget it. Maybe, on the darkest of nights to come, when everything and everyone would fail to soothe your soul, if you closed your eyes tight enough you would be able to conjure her scent again, and then sleep would finally come.

Billie’s hand slid down the side of your face to cup your cheek. You closed your eyes, counted to three, then pulled away.

Her gaze was still so very sad when you met her eyes, but she managed to offer you a smile. She gracefully wiped a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“Why are you crying?” you frowned.

Billie let out an incredulous laugh. “Did you hear what you said to me?”

There was no reproach in her voice, only sadness, and that felt like a stab to your heart.

“I’m sor –“you started, but she interrupted you with a slender finger on your lips.

“I told you to stop apologizing.” She offered you another shaky smile, but then her brow pushed up in concern. “Did I –“Her voice broke. She swallowed, tried again. “Did I do something to make you feel like you were not enough?”

Did she… what? You weren’t sure you had heard her properly. Had those words really left her mouth, or had they been uttered by a malicious spirit? How could Billie, Billie who was so considerate, so loving, so utterly perfect – how could she think she had done anything wrong?

Her face crumpled as she misinterpreted your silence. “Oh no baby, I’m so s –“she started, but you interrupted her.

“No, Billie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your voice was hoarse from crying. You shook your head, biting your lower lip to hold back fresh tears. “You’ve been so good to me. The best thing that ever happened to me. The truth is, you’ve been too good and I don’t… I don’t want to hold you back.” She opened her mouth to protest, but you shook your head again, a silent pleading to let you finish. “Now that I’ve lost my job you’re gonna have to provide for me and I can’t let you do that. I can’t be a burden I can’t –“

Again, a finger on your lips. You fell silent. Something in you disappeared and you felt your body go limp, as if there was no strength left in you.

Billie’s finger gently tapped your lips as she gazed at you thoughtfully.

“I don’t mind providing for you while you look for another job,” she said after a while. Her brow furrowed. “Or maybe you should take a break. Maybe I should, too. We could go somewhere nice and relax for a while.”

“But I –“Another tap on your lips.

“But you –“you tried again, but again she interrupted you. You planted a kiss on her finger in retaliation, and were rewarded with a small smile.

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” Billie said in a low voice. Her eyes met yours, kind and vulnerable. “You’re not a disappointment, Y/N. It’s got to the point I cannot even imagine my future without you.”

You couldn’t help it: you dissolved into tears again. Billie cooed and gently guided your head against her shoulder. You clang to her, hoping you could get rid of your negative thoughts with every sob. It didn’t work like that, you knew it, but when you were in Billie’s arms it almost seemed life could be easy and kind.

You didn’t pull away when your tears subsided. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying Billie’s embrace, her hand running through your hair, her warmth. You felt thoroughly empty now, thoroughly spent. Sleep weighed on your eyelids. You wrapped your arms around Billie’s waist and pulled her closer still, breathed in her scent and let out a sigh.

“What happened?” Billie whispered after a while.

“I told you.” You nuzzled her shoulder. “I lost my job.”

“No, I mean… what happened?”

You got her meaning, somehow, as if your mind were perfectly attuned to hers. You hesitated. Swallowed hard.

“I don’t know,” you said in a breath. “Sometimes it feels like I can never be a viable option for anyone, especially not for you. I know it’s stupid, I know I have no real reasons to feel that way. But I can’t help it.”

Billie hummed. She dropped a kiss on your forehead, warm lips lingering on your skin. “I love you,” she said, voice firm and raspy. She ran one hand up and down your back, nails scratching gently.”And I want you, even when you’re at your lowest and ugliest, even when you don’t have a job.”Her hand slipped over your shoulder, under your chin, titled your head up. She waited for you to meet her eyes. “You’re allowed to not be at your best all the time. That doesn’t make you worthless.”

And as you gazed at her with half lidded eyes, her words sank into you and settled in your chest and bloomed there. Eased the ache. Maybe only for a few hours, maybe only for a few days, but it was all you needed right now. And somehow she had known exactly what to say. And she would know what to say the next time.

You blinked sleepily, and she cooed, smiled a smile that was half fond, half smug. “Do you need to get some shut-eye, my little bear?”

You rolled your eyes at her, but were betrayed by a yawn. Her smile grew into a smirk.

“Shut up,” you muttered, as you buried your face in her chest, nuzzled the exposed skin, and smiled.