#Los Angeles shoe care

[off-page-activities]

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt skips Tara Yummy's 1M party to have quality time with his girlfriend.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt's car glided through the moonlit streets of Los Angeles as he headed toward Y/N's apartment after dropping off his brothers at Tara Yummy's 1 million celebration party. The radio played the playlist created by him and Y/N, which they constantly fed with new songs that reminded themselves of each other.

Matt smiled as he looked to the little surprise he had prepared for his girlfriend. He made a brief stop at a flower shop on the way, where he bought a simple bouquet of pink tulips - Y/N's favorite. His eyes momentarily found the bouquet carefully wrapped and placed on the passenger seat before returning his gaze to the road.

Upon arriving at the building where Y/N lived, his access to the parking lot was quickly granted, the doorman already knowing him very well. The boy didn't take long to take the bouquet in hand, locking the doors and taking the elevator to the corresponding floor.

The sound of the keys against the front door lock sounded faintly through the living room, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing seconds later, Matt quickly taking off his shoes and resting them against the wall.

"Baby?" His voice echoed through the walls, expanding to the nearest rooms, while his eyes quickly surrounded the space, searching for the girl.

"Kitchen!" Y/N shouted back, an involuntary smile growing on her face almost automatically, her body reacting to Matt's presence.

Matt made his way to the kitchen and found Y/N with her back to him, focused on the counter as she moved her arms over the ceramics. With a smile on his face, he approached her silently and hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his hands on her stomach covered by her hoodie and little green apron.

"Hi, pretty boy." Y/N murmured softly, rubbing her hands together to shake off the flour before wrapping her arms around his, caressing the hoodie-covered skin. "I thought you were going to Tara's party."

"Without my girl? Never." He responded in a low tone against her neck, laying his head on her right shoulder so that his face was facing her neck and sealing her jaw gently. "I brought you something." Matt pulled away slightly and retrieved the bouquet he had rested on the table.

Y/N turned to him with eyes full of curiosity and confusion, which soon turned into pure ecstasy, her heart overflowing with love.

"Oh my... Matt, they're beautiful!" The girl beamed, accepting the bouquet and cradling it in her arms as if it was a newborn.

"I always bring you flowers, I don't know how you still react so surprised." Matt murmured jokingly, smiling as he watched her enjoy the little gift.

As Y/N carefully arranged the tulips in a new ceramic vase, Matt approached the oven to peek at what she was preparing. The delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air, making his stomach growl with anticipation.

"Did you make cookies?" The boy asked excitedly.

"Yes! I was baking it to take it to you tomorrow." Y/N nodded quickly, returning to her starting position. "Do you want some, hon?"

"Yes, please."

Matt watched in awe as Y/N bent slightly, opening the stove door and carefully taking out the baking tray with her hand covered in the soft yellow fabric glove, resting it on the counter.

He knew he was lucky to have someone so incredible in his life, someone who cared about making every moment special.

The girl rose to her tiptoes after closing the oven, opening the cabinet above the stove and retrieving two dessert plates designed with little strawberries. She placed them side by side next to the tray before taking a small spatula and moving two cookies to each plate carefully, afraid of breaking or dropping them.

Matt walked over, taking one of the cookies from the tray with the tip of his fingertips, ignoring the slight burn from the high temperature. He lifted his own hand, blowing on the sweet before biting off a piece, closing his eyes automatically and letting out a sigh of pleasure through his nose. The way the cookie was still warm made it melt in his mouth, the chocolate exploding against his tongue, multiplying the variety of flavors.

"Is it good?" Y/N giggled, watching him with a smile gracing her face, receiving a quick nod with wide blue eyes. "Come on, baby."

She took the plates in her hands delicately, leaving her kitchen and walking to the balcony with Matt following close behind as he licked his fingers, removing all the chocolate residue.

The night was cool and clear, with the sky dotted with twinkling stars. The couple snuggled into the cushioned chairs that decorated the small space, Matt quickly reaching for the pink blanket that was folded on the small table on the right corner, opening it and throwing it over his and his girlfriend's legs, protecting them against the light breeze.

"Oh! Matt, remember the dog constellation I was telling you about the other day?" Y/N's excited voice cut through the comfortable silence, her eyes lighting up just like the stars above them.

"Sirios? No, wait, Sirius... Right?" Matt frowned, a cute look of confusion spreading across his face as his eyes darted from Y/N to the sky and back again.

"Exactly! Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. Right there." The girl raised her arm that wasn't holding her plate, pointing her index finger upwards.

Matt looked in the indicated direction, navigating through the stars for a few seconds until he found it.

"Wait, it's actually beautiful. What else do you know about it?"

Y/N smiled truthful, her heart warming at being able to talk more about something she loved so much, without having restrictions or feeling ashamed for her excitement.

"Well, Sirius is a binary star, which means it is actually two stars orbiting around each other. It is part of the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog, and is known as 'The Dog Stars'. Oh, oh! Do you remember Sirius Black? My favorite Harry Potter character? So, this star..."

Matt listened intently, slowly chewing the small cookie pieces while keeping his eyes fixed on Y/N. Her passion for astronomy and the universe always fascinated him, and there wasn't a time when she brought up the subject that he wasn't willing to give her his full attention.

As the night progressed, Matt and Y/N continued to stargaze, lost in conversations about the cosmos and its mysteries.

As the last cookie crumbs disappeared from the plates and the sky began to brighten with the sun that appeared over the horizon, Y/N felt a wave of comfort and contentment envelop her body, resting the ceramics on the corner table and moving gently towards Matt, settling on his lap.

The boy opened a big, involuntary smile, automatically wrapping her with his arms and the pink blanket, protecting them from the slight cold of dawn, while she laid her head on his chest, feeling the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat and serene breathing.

Together, they kept their eyes fixed on the sky that was beginning to take on color, the sound of the first cars on the street, and the laughter of children going to school filling their ears.

Little by little, Y/N began to feel the effects of exhaustion after staying up all night, her body relaxing against Matt's comforting warmth. Sleep came like a gentle wave, enveloping her senses in an embrace.

Her breathing became slow and regular, while her body became limp and light. Her brain shutting down and giving in to deep sleep, to the point where she didn't hear the little whisper of "good night, petal" from her boyfriend, let alone his arms carrying her to her bed, where they finally slept in each other's arms.

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[callsigns-haze]

Unexpected twist

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tim and Y/N's first date at a fancy restaurant is interrupted by a robbery, turning a romantic evening into a spontaneous takedown and leaving their relationship exposed to their curious colleagues.

Chapter Warning: This chapter contains a sudden shift from a romantic date to an intense, potentially dangerous situation involving a robbery, with moments of suspense, gun use, and police intervention.

A/N: My first fic about the rookie eeeeeeeeek

The evening was perfect—the kind of night that begged for romance. The sun had just set, leaving behind a soft twilight that bathed Los Angeles in shades of purple and gold. The upscale restaurant Tim Bradford had chosen was nestled in a quiet corner of the city, known for its elegance and discretion. It was the kind of place where celebrities could dine without being disturbed, and tonight, it was the stage for a first date that had been a long time coming.

Tim arrived first, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nerves. His usually steady hands betrayed a slight tremor as he adjusted the cuffs of his navy-blue suit. The suit was perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and athletic build, the sharp lines giving him an air of authority even out of uniform. The crisp white shirt he wore beneath it was open at the collar, revealing a hint of tanned skin, and his dark leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine. His hair was neatly styled, though a few rebellious strands fell across his forehead, softening the hard lines of his face. He glanced at his reflection in the window, making a mental note to ease up on the cologne—he wanted to make an impression, not overwhelm her.

Just as Tim settled into his seat, Y/N Y/L/N entered the restaurant, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. She was a vision in an emerald-green dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, the rich color bringing out the warmth of her skin. The neckline was a perfect balance—elegant yet suggestive, hinting at the strength beneath the softness. Her hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders, and her makeup was subtle but impeccable, with a soft shimmer on her eyelids that caught the light just so. A delicate gold necklace adorned her neck, matching the small, sparkling earrings that completed her look. She moved with a grace that was both natural and practiced, each step exuding confidence.

Tim stood as she approached, his heart beating a little faster than usual. "Wow," he said, his voice dropping an octave, full of genuine admiration. "You look... stunning."

Y/N smiled, a hint of a blush rising to her cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, Bradford. I almost didn't recognize you without the uniform and scowl."

He chuckled, the tension easing slightly. "I save the scowl for the rookies. And for bad guys. I promise you won't see it tonight."

She raised an eyebrow playfully as she took her seat. "We'll see about that. I’m sure I could get it out of you if I tried."

Tim’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "Careful, Detective. You don’t want to see me at my worst tonight."

"Oh, I’m not afraid of you," Y/N teased, her voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. "In fact, I’m looking forward to it."

Tim leaned in slightly, his gaze locking with hers. "You know, I wasn't sure you'd actually say yes to this. We've worked together for a while, and I didn’t know if you’d be interested in mixing business with… pleasure."

Y/N's lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. "Who says I’m interested in pleasure, Bradford? Maybe I just wanted to see if you’re as tough off-duty as you are on."

His grin widened, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, I’m just as tough, but I can be pretty charming when I want to be."

"Charming, huh?" Y/N’s tone was light, teasing. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

They continued to flirt as the evening progressed, their conversations flowing easily from work to personal interests, each revelation bringing them closer. The chemistry between them crackled like electricity, unspoken but undeniable. Every now and then, they would exchange a glance, both of them half-expecting a familiar face from the station to walk through the door.

"You know," Y/N said, breaking the momentary silence, "I keep thinking someone from work is going to walk in and ruin this."

Tim nodded, his expression softening. "Same here. It’s like we can’t escape the job, even on a night like this."

"Well, if they do show up, we’ll just tell them we’re working undercover," she suggested with a mischievous grin.

Tim smirked. "Yeah? And what exactly are we investigating?"

"Restaurant quality," she replied with a wink, making Tim chuckle.

Just as they were starting to relax, the door to the restaurant was thrown open with a loud crash, and the once tranquil atmosphere shattered like glass. A man in a black ski mask stormed in, waving a gun wildly in the air. The room fell into a stunned silence, every patron freezing in fear.

"Everyone stay where you are!" the man shouted, his voice edged with desperation. "Empty your wallets, your purses—now!"

Tim’s eyes sharpened, his instincts kicking in immediately. He looked at Y/N, who had already reached under the table, her hand on her off-duty weapon. Her expression had gone from flirty to deadly serious in an instant. She gave Tim a quick nod, and they both moved with a speed and precision that spoke to years of training and experience.

"Hey!" Tim barked, standing up suddenly. His voice was authoritative, commanding the room. "LAPD! Drop the weapon and get on the ground, now!"

The robber spun around, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected confrontation. His gun wavered, but his desperation outweighed his common sense.

"Don’t move!" he yelled, his voice cracking. But it was too late—Y/N was already moving, her gun drawn and trained on him with deadly accuracy.

"Put the gun down!" Y/N ordered, her voice steady, every bit the seasoned detective. "This doesn’t have to end badly for you."

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between the two officers and the terrified patrons around him. The tension in the room was palpable, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the situation to explode.

Tim slowly approached, his gun also drawn. "You’re outnumbered, and we’re not going to ask again," he warned, his voice low and threatening. "Drop it."

The robber’s resolve broke. His hand shook violently as he looked from Tim to Y/N, realizing he had no way out. With a defeated sigh, he let the gun slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. Y/N was on him in an instant, kicking the weapon away and securing his wrists with a pair of handcuffs.

Tim kept his gun trained on the man until he was sure the situation was under control. As the adrenaline began to fade, he glanced around the restaurant, noticing the wide-eyed stares of the other patrons. Applause broke out, tentative at first, then growing louder as relief washed over the room.

Y/N looked up at Tim, a grin spreading across her face. "So much for a quiet evening, huh?"

Tim couldn’t help but smile back. "Yeah, I guess we have a talent for finding trouble."

Y/N stood, pulling the cuffed robber to his feet. "Or maybe trouble just finds us."

Before they could share another quip, the sound of police sirens filled the air outside, and moments later, a familiar group of officers burst into the restaurant, weapons drawn, ready to respond.

Nolan was the first through the door, followed by Harper, Aaron, and Lucy. Their faces were a mix of surprise and confusion as they took in the scene—Y/N and Tim standing over a cuffed suspect, both looking more like they were on a night out than responding to a robbery.

"What the hell is going on here?" Harper demanded, her sharp eyes narrowing as she holstered her weapon.

Tim and Y/N exchanged a quick look, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Lucy chimed in, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Were you guys on a date?" Lucy blurted out, the question hanging in the air like a bomb waiting to explode.

Tim felt his face flush, the color rising from his neck to his ears. Y/N seemed equally flustered, though she quickly tried to recover.

"Uh, we were just… grabbing a bite to eat," Y/N said, her voice a little too casual.

"Yeah, just happened to be in the right place at the right time," Tim added, though his tone didn’t quite carry the confidence he hoped for.

Nolan raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "A bite to eat? In suits and fancy dresses?"

Harper crossed her arms, clearly amused. "Right place, right time, huh? Sounds more like a date to me."

Y/N sighed, knowing they were caught. "Fine, it was a date. But in our defence, we didn’t expect to be playing hero tonight."

"Well, you certainly picked a memorable first date," Aaron remarked with a smirk, looking at the subdued robber. "Though, maybe next time choose a place that’s less likely to get held up."

Lucy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. "I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two!"

Tim shot her a look, though there was no real heat behind it. "Can we maybe focus on the fact that we just stopped a robbery?"

Harper chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "Sure, Bradford. But you know this is going to be all over the station by morning."

Y/N groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Great. Just what I wanted."

Nolan grinned, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "Hey, at least you didn’t have to pay for dinner."

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess there’s that, still get to keep the two hundred in the budget."

As their colleagues began to process the scene and take the suspect away, Y/N leaned in close to Tim, her voice low and playful. "So, how about round two? Somewhere a little less public?"

Tim’s eyes lit up with a mix of humour and affection. "Sounds perfect. And maybe this time we can actually finish a meal."

As Tim and Y/N walk out of the restaurant, still riding the adrenaline from the robbery, Tim glances at her with a playful grin. “So, any ideas for our second date? Preferably somewhere without armed robbers?”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night. How about something a little more low-key? Maybe a quiet dinner at my place? I make a mean lasagna.”

Tim’s eyes light up at the suggestion, and he nods. “That sounds perfect. But just so you know, I’m bringing dessert.”

“Deal,” Y/N replies, smiling warmly. “And this time, let’s keep our badges out of sight.”

They exchange a look filled with anticipation, both eager for a date that will hopefully be free of interruptions—and a chance to really get to know each other.

Taglist:

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[ginkgo-phyta]

At elementary school I bent down next to an open window, when I stood up I hit my scalp with the "corner" (I don't know the exact word, English is not my first language), hurting myself (even though I didn't tell anyone because I was embarrassed about it). Since then, I pay more attention to edges, always covering them with my hand. So it got me thinking, Spencer Reid x Reader where Reader, during dinner with the team, drops something and crouches down to catch it, when they move their hand to cover the edge of the table (in order not to injure themselves) it touches Spencer's hand (I'm being delusional about that video of a man doing it for his gf while I do it for myself, because I'm lonel an independent woman). Thank you for reading this <33

A/N: ahh i’m so sorry that happened when you were younger! i love this prompt tho, reminds me of all those moments in kdramas ehehe i too would want spencer reid to do this for me *swoons* i hope you enjoy, my love!

Summary: Spencer notices you covering corners of sharp surfaces to stop yourself from getting hurt. One evening, he decides to do it for you.

fluff, gender neutral reader, no warnings(?), 1.8k words

It was normal for Spencer to pick up on others’ behaviors, completely in-line for him to observe his coworkers and mentally note their different habits or time how long it ordinarily takes them to complete a task. Usually, he finished his desk work quicker than his counterparts, granting him plenty of time in between to people-watch. For some reason, however, he observed you the most. At this point it had been five months, one week, three days, fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes since you were introduced to the team, since you were officially a part of the BAU family, and Spencer was acutely aware of your movements for every one of those seconds. 

I’m just being cautious, he’d try to reason with himself whenever he’d catch himself staring a little bit too intently at you, watching your every moment a bit too closely. The other profilers around him, however, knew the true reason. Unbeknownst to Spencer, hushed whispers, knowing looks, quirks of eyebrows, twitches of smiles all passed around him every time he’d observe you. You were none the wiser, simply too engrossed in whatever task lay at hand to be privy to any peering gazes.

There were a few of your quirks that struck Spencer the most: the way you lightly tapped your fingertips against the computer keyboard as you brainstormed what to type next; how you made sure to thoroughly wipe your shoes on entrance mats before stepping into any space- even deceased victims’ homes; your habit of humming random, seemingly made-up tunes as you ate your lunch; and lastly, yet most strikingly, the way you would diligently cover sharp corners with your hands, obviously incredibly wary of them. The way you maneuvered around certain tasks confused Spencer, at first, but he found out the cause of your behavior purely by luck. 

The first time he picked it up was watching you make coffee at the BAU kitchenette three weeks, two days, six hours, and fifty-five minutes into starting the job. Unlike Spencer- who would swing the cabinet open without a care in the world if it hit him in the head, too concerned about simply getting his caffeine fix- you would gingerly open the door at a forearm's distance. He noticed the way you’d wrap your palm over the bottom corner of the cabinet door, holding it that way while putting your coffee together with the other hand. The second time he noticed was five days, ten hours, and seventeen minutes after the first, when the two of you were looking over a crime scene nestled in the unsuspecting suburbs of Los Angeles. You and Spencer were combing over the murder site in the master-bedroom when something caught your eye. You had slowly approached the source of glinting on the baseboard below a window where the unsub was thought to have entered the home. Even though your eyes never left the mysterious material, your gloved hand came up to cushion the corner of the wooden blinds that had been left swung open as you crouched below them. 

Spencer had given this habit of yours much thought over the next week, three days, four hours, and forty-nine minutes until Derek had revealed the wizard behind the curtain. 

“What happened here, sugar?” the broad-shouldered profiler asked you from where he leaned against your desk, hand coming up to quickly and lightly tap your temple.

“Oh, this?” you breathe out, your own fingers replacing where the man’s had just grazed, pressing into the barely-noticeable scar. You chuckled at the memory, “When I was a kid, my head hit the corner of a window’s molding pretty hard…” your voice trails off a bit, zoning out as you massage the miniscule indent.

Derek audibly winces at the mental image, “Must’ve hurt like a bitch, huh?”

You nod in response, “I never told anyone, though. Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.” You shot him a playful grin before turning back to the case file on your desk where Morgan was helping you with a consult. 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Spencer had overheard the whole thing. It all made sense now, the event clearly occurred at an impressionable age, leaving traces of trauma spurring your muscle memory. The young doctor made sure to file that information away in the recesses of his mind. He took a few minutes to think about it first, along with the other habits of yours he’d picked up on. Spencer’s mind began to wander, dreaming of the different possible backstories for each quirk. He wondered what other traits you might exhibit that he had yet to have seen. Was there anything you stopped yourself from doing, anything you were made to feel embarrassed about? He knew how cruel people could be. The prospect of someone humiliating you had him fisting his hands against his thighs, jaw clenching ever-so-slightly. That would be ridiculous, absurd even! All of your whimseys were just that; intriguing, charming, and…endearing. Wait, wait, no! Spencer shook the thought out of his head- that’s not what he meant! He turned back to his own work, deep in thought: Or…was it?

One month, one week, five hours, and twelve minutes after Spencer clued in on the lore behind your little habit, everyone was gathered at Rossi’s house for a team dinner. The eldest agent wanted to properly welcome you into the team, even though it had been quite some time since you started. Five months, one week, three days, fourteen hours and thirty-eight minutes. Everyone sat around David’s long, rectangular dinner table where he stood at the head, wine glass raised. He spoke your name, loud and welcoming. 

“Chiedo scusa, I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to have you here. But, I want to quickly say how grateful we are to have you part of this team. People have come, people have gone, but you will always be part of the BAU family.” With a flourish, he urged everyone else to raise their glasses, “Salute!” 

“Salute!”

“Here, here!”

“Cheers!”

“We love you!”

The mix of happy voices and delicately dinging glasses praising you warmed your cheeks in delight. The job was tough, but having people like these to work beside made everything easier. The flush painted over your ears and tickled the back of your neck when you glimpsed over to Spencer who gazed back at you with fond and tender eyes. 

“Cheers,” he whispered, leaning in just a bit to clink his glass with yours, “We’re lucky to have you here.” 

All you could do was shake your head as you chuckled, sheepishly taking in the way Spencer’s soft oak eyes peered at you over the edge of his water glass. You went to pick your fork up from the table mat, but your hands felt weak and palmy from being so close to the fluffy haired genius, causing the utensil to fumble out of your fingers. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, you were forming a not-so-subtle crush on him. 

“Damn,” you whispered to yourself, craning your neck to see where the fork hard landed on the elegantly patterned rug. Quite a bit away from you under the table, unreachable by stretching foot. With a light groan you pushed out of your chair, settled on the idea of crawling under the table to get the fugitive cutlery. Out of reflex, your hand flew up to hold onto the edge of the dinner table to prevent any possibility of bumping your head against it. Instead of feeling smooth, rigid, temperate wood under your palm, you felt something soft and warm. Immediately, your hand flinched away and you looked up from the floor to see Spencer hands, large and steady, cupping the profile of the table. 

“Oh, sor-” 

Before you could even finish apologizing, his raspy timbre sang out, “Don’t worry, I got it.” 

Your heart swelled with an unplaceable emotion. The flush from earlier returned with greater heat, spreading over every square inch of your body. It took you a moment of just staring at him in shock before his voice pulled you out of your daze. 

“You can go, it’s okay,” his laugh was shy this time, eyes running from your gaze to focus on the conversation your tablemates were having. 

You snapped out of your bewilderment, crouching down and fetching your fork before emerging back into your seat. Spencer kept his hand in the same position the whole time, picking at his own food and laughing with the others who didn’t seem to notice what you were up to. 

“Thank you,” you said, all settled into your chair. Your words returned Spencer’s attention to you, a kind smile growing on his face. 

“It’s no problem,” his hand lingered for a split-second longer than necessary before sliding into his lap. It had been a reflexive action, his subconscious fearing you would hurt yourself, but as the seconds passed he started doubting himself. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know it’s happened before.” The unexpected confession caused Spencer to look away from you, fearing he’d made you uncomfortable. With a light cough, he brought his napkin up to his face to feign wiping his mouth when in actuality he was attempting to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“How’d you know?” You were surprised, but Spencer was relieved to hear no hint of distaste in your voice.

“I, um…” Another small cough pierced his train of thought, “I heard you telling Morgan a while back.” His chip dipped down a bit as he gulped down his worries.

“Wha-” Surprised, yet again, you couldn’t find the right words, your eyes searching for them in the intricate motif etched around the china plate staring up at you. “But that was so long ago…” your hands lay unmoving on the table, fingers picking at the corners of the place mat.

“One month, one week, five hours, and twenty minutes ago.” Spencer mumbled, gently yet matter-of-factly, picking at the pasta slumped before him.

Your eyes whipped up to look at him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. Moments pass by as you take him in, absolutely floored at his memory. You’d seen him quote passing time before, that wasn’t shocking at this point, but the fact that he retained something so trivial about you left you dumbfounded. He sat there, chewing on the smallest pieces of pasta you’d ever see a person put in their mouth, acting as if his actions were embarrassing instead of…heart-warming.

“And you remembered?” Your voice was quiet, unbelieving and cheerful. It beckoned Spencer to you like minnow reels in trout. 

He peeled his eyes up from his meal to look at you; your face, benevolent and compassionate; your smile, small yet loving; your eyebrows pulled up by a slivered string of affection. The hand resting unsurely in his lap moves up to gently grasp his water class, his pinky grazing against yours. He left it there, your own inching over indiscernibly to gain just a fraction of a bit more comfort. 

Spencer smiled at you, balmy and adoring, his words widening the grin on your face.

“Of course I did.” 

A/N: okay okay OKAYYY ANONN how was this?? ugh i loved this prompt sm i wish i had spencer reid to look out for me…even tho i, too, am a lonely i mean independent woman

does this count as a belated valentine's day fic? teehee

[wosoimagines]

Courage of Fools - Alessia Russo/Reader

prompt: R always orders flowers on Fridays for Alessia since they're long distance. One Friday, Alessia doesn't get a delivery.

warnings: none

words: 2096

“Come on, Less!” Leah called over her shoulder at the younger blonde who had been trailing behind checking her phone. “We’re at your house, mate. You’re the one who’s got to let us in.”

Alessia, however, wasn’t paying attention as she was checking the text messages that she had received while she was in practice today. But there was nothing from the one person she was hoping to have one from.

Alessia’s day had started out abysmally. After all she had been missing her person for weeks now. It had made her move to Arsenal a bit rough as she had to adjust to an entirely new team and home and the one person who was supposed to be here to go through it with her just had to be back in Los Angeles. She was getting radio silence from you all morning as well, but she didn’t let it get to her with the time difference and everything. You must have just fallen asleep before you sent Alessia a text to wake up to; it didn’t happen often, but it had happened before. Besides, it was Friday and that meant flowers.

Only when she opened the door, there were no flowers to greet her at the door like there normally were. The tradition had started when she had first moved back to England in late 2020. Her partner hadn’t been able to follow her. So Alessia had been pleasantly surprised to find the flowers waiting for her at her door that first Friday morning. But since then, Alessia always had a bouquet of flowers waiting for her at the door on Friday mornings whenever the two were apart.

Then, on top of that, Alessia had a horrible practice. She had been worrying all throughout the practice as to why she hadn’t gotten flowers that morning. Her mind immediately assuming the worst. But surely, if you had been injured then she would have been called. Maybe you met someone else, and this is how you breaking up with her then?

So, she had a horrible practice.

There were still no text messages from you either.

And, of course, Alessia had to offer up her place for the girls to come and hang out at once practice had wrapped up. But that had been before she didn’t get her flowers on Friday morning.

That’s why she was the last one to the door as her new Arsenal teammates had gathered on the porch waiting for the blonde striker to let them in to the house. Alessia slightly fumbled with the keys as her mind was still distracted. Maybe if she hadn’t been so distracted, she would have noticed the extra pair of shoes in the closet that definitely hadn’t been there this morning when she had gotten her own pair out.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Beth finally asked.

Both of the elder lionesses had been quite aware that something else was affecting Alessia’s mood for the day, but neither of them could help the young striker if she didn’t open up to them. After all, Beth and Leah had promised each other that they would take care of Alessia once she joined them at Arsenal; same as they did for Lotte.

“She’s probably just missing (Y/N),” Lotte teased her friend before she started making kissy faces.

Alessia rolled her eyes as she shoved Lotte away. Lotte knowing of your and Alessia’s relationship since she had to unfortunately watch the two of you pining after each other for nearly two years before either of you had made a move on the other while you three were in college.

“(Y/N)?” Leah repeated the name. She shared a look with Beth as they settled onto the couch. Neither of them had ever heard Alessia talking about someone that she was involved with. “Who’s (Y/N)?”

“No one,” Alessia said a bit too quickly.

Alessia loved showing you off, but the two of you had been keen on keeping your relationship private. Alessia wasn’t sure how much privacy the two of you would have once her national teammates knew. It was bad enough when Tooney had caught the two of you while filming for her vlog because then Alessia had to convince her friend to delete the footage that she had.

“Lotte, who’s (Y/N)?” Leah asked as she turned to her fellow defender.

Lotte froze at that. She was quite aware that the two of you preferred privacy and Alessia had already refused to tell Leah and Beth about you. But it was Leah, and she would force Lotte to run extra the following day in practice and Lotte knew it.

“Just someone from college.”

“Just someone from college?” Leah asked. Her eyes darted between the two younger players. “But obviously someone who means enough if Alessia’s in a bad mood.”

“It’s none of your business,” Alessia snapped. She really didn’t want to deal with this, especially seeing as the two of you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about finally introducing you to her teammates.

“Lessi, we just want to be able to help you,” Beth said softly. Alessia trained a glare on the other forward. Alessia knew that Beth and Leah were coming from a good place, it just happened to be at one of the worst times for her. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Before Alessia had a chance to say anything back, the four were frozen as the doorknob rattled behind them. Leah was absolutely certain that she had locked the door behind her once she entered the house.

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

(Y/N) POV

I faltered slightly once I caught sight of more than just Alessia in our living room. Considering Alessia’s Mercedes was outside, I knew that she was home, but I hadn’t been expecting her to have company. After all, I had been hoping to surprise her.

“(Y/N)!”

Lotte was the first one to get over the shock of seeing me as she barreled into me for a hug. I had to admit, it had been far too long since I had seen the defender. After all, she and Alessia had ended up at different clubs after they left UNC for the WSL, and I had spent a majority of my time with Alessia when I was able to visit.

I didn’t have time to rest because as soon as Lotte was out of my arms, Alessia was jumping in them. I stumbled back a couple of steps as Alessia wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere for a while,” I softly said before I pressed a kiss right under her ear.

Alessia stayed where she was wrapped around me for a few more moments, but I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable due to the audience we had. Had it just been Lotte, I wouldn’t have minded, but we did have a couple of Alessia’s other teammates here as well.

“I thought you forgot,” Alessia admitted once she unwrapped herself from me and took the flowers from my hands. I groaned as I rubbed my shoulder once she punched it after looking at the bouquet for a moment. “Or that something bad had happened, asshole. You didn’t text me and they weren’t waiting for me this morning.”

“I can’t surprise you?” I asked, causing Alessia to shake her head. Alessia did like to know my schedule so she knew when she could call me, but it often meant that I had to pay attention to her schedule as well or else she would forgo sleep just to talk to me all night. “We wrapped up recording yesterday morning. I called Richard down at Leaf in Peace and let him know that I wouldn’t need the flowers delivered this morning and that I’d come by so I could pick some out for you myself. Caught a red eye, dropped my bags off here, and then went to get the flowers.”

“You could have told me you were coming.”

I only shrugged at that as my gaze turned to the older two players in the living room who were watching us. I shuffled past Alessia to hold my hand out to the two.

“I’m (Y/N).”

The two only stared at my hand before turning to each other. I was about to drop my hand, but the taller blonde grabbed a hold of it before I could. I was a bit surprised when she pulled me closer to her.

“Hurt our Less and we’ll hurt you,” the taller one said. I quickly nodded my head in understanding. Honestly, she was a lot scarier than Mario had been when he threatened to hurt me if I ever treated Alessia wrong. “Even the slightest hint‒”

“Leah!” Alessia cut the woman off and she got in between us to try and push us apart. “Let (Y/N) go.”

The taller blonde, Leah, I assumed, still had a tight grip on my hand.

“Leah, let go. Now.”

Leah didn’t until the other blonde grabbed the back of Leah’s shirt to pull her back. I slightly winced as I rubbed my hand.

“Are you okay?” Alessia asked as she took the hand that Leah had been holding to look over it. I sent her a soft smile as I nodded. The handshake really hadn’t hurt that bad. Or well, if it did, Alessia would never know that. “The bitch is Leah,” Alessia ignored the gasp from the blonde who had just been shaking my hand, “and the other is Beth.”

“Meado?”

“Oh, so you do pay attention to me when I tell you about my teammates.”

“Give me some credit. I’ve learned a lot about soccer since I’ve met you.”

“Football.”

“Whatever.”

“So, when’s the album coming out?”

Alessia and I both looked over at Lotte who was watching us. I shrugged because I wasn’t entirely sure. I had only just finished recording it, but that didn’t mean that it was ready to be available for the world to listen to just yet.

“I get to listen to it first, yeah?”

“How’s that fair? I’m the girlfriend!”

“Yeah, but I’m the matchmaker!”

I rolled my eyes at the two of them as they continued to bicker about which one of them would get to hear the album first. All three of us knew that it would be Alessia since there was no way that I wouldn’t be playing the songs for her once we were alone.

“You’re a singer?” Beth asked. I turned to look at her before I nodded. I had gotten a record deal during the pandemic and had finally started my music career. “You have an album coming out?”

“No release date yet,” I admitted to her. I actually loved to talk about my music to others especially since most of it was about Alessia. “There’s still quite a bit of work to do for it. We really just recorded acoustic versions of what the finished songs will be.”

“Are you using Alessia just to get famous?”

Lotte and Alessia both stopped their argument at the question. I knew that this would be something that some would think, especially early in my own career.

“Leah!”

“It’s okay, Lessi,” I said as I wrapped my hand around Alessia’s wrist so that I could pull her close to me. “It’s a fair question considering we’ve kept our relationship a secret for so long and you are one of the best strikers in England right now.”

“No, it isn’t,” Alessia said, as she turned from me to glare at Leah. “Just because Leah has no idea that we’ve been dating since college doesn’t give her the right to ask if you’re just using me.”

The room grew tense as neither Alessia or Leah refused to back down from the other.

Ultimately it was Lotte who broke the silence.

“So, what’s the album about?”

I grinned as I looked over at her.

“What do you think?”

“No,” Lotte groaned as I pressed a kiss to Alessia’s cheek. “Not a whole album of songs just for Alessia. Didn’t you write her enough while we were in college?”

“Lotte, the album is literally about us getting together,” I pointed out. I knew that Lotte was aware of what the album was about considering I had been working on it since college. “At least you named it.”

“I did?”

“Oh, yeah,” I nodded as Alessia threw a slight glare at me. “Courage of Fools. That’s what you said when we both finally tried to ask each other out, right?”

[goblinontour]

The Mephistopheles Of Los Angeles

dracula’s hungry

warnings: soft!dom!alex (ish), smut, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), rimming (m receiving), period stuff

word count: 5.4k

He never really understood why he threw himself into the whole Halloween thing with such intensity every year. Maybe it was the spectacle of it all, the chance to be someone else for a night. He’d spend weeks, months even, obsessing over his costume, as if it really mattered. It never did, though. By the end of the night, he’d always regret it.

Like tonight. 

He trailed about ten steps behind you, limping slightly because his boots were rubbing his feet raw. The oversized, stiff leather had seemed like a good idea when he first planned the outfit, but now every step was a painful reminder of his poor choices. His wig, which had been an itchy, tangled mess of cheap black hair meant to give him some rockstar edge, Alice Cooper, or something close enough, was clutched in his fist. It had been driving him mad since he put it on, and he finally gave up. Now he just looked ridiculous, like some half-done version of a Halloween cliché, with smeared eyeliner and the remnants of his costume hanging in tatters around him. 

He glanced down at the wig and considered chucking it into one of the bins lining the street. It would be satisfying in the moment, but what was the point? It was a shit party anyway. 

You hadn’t even stayed long. The music was too loud, the crowd too chaotic. He’d barely gotten a drink down before you turned to him, your eyes saying everything you didn’t have to. “Can we just go home?” you asked. He didn’t even need a reason, he was more than down for it. The second you mentioned leaving, he didn’t ask why. He didn’t care. If anything, he was relieved. 

He followed you now, watching the way your costume moved with the sway of your hips, feeling a little guilty for not telling you how great you looked tonight. But the weight of his own annoyance hung over him, making it hard to say much of anything.

The night was cool, the air damp with the scent of wet pavement. You led the way, a ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of your lips as you glanced over your shoulder, slowing just enough for him to catch up. Even though you’d left the party early, you didn’t seem disappointed at all. Maybe you knew he wasn’t having fun. Maybe you just wanted him all to yourself tonight.

Either way, he didn’t mind. The costume could rot in a corner somewhere for all he cared. He just wanted to get home, peel off the rest of this nightmare outfit, and collapse with you.

He quickened his pace, falling in step beside you, his hand brushing against yours. “That bad, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked him over, taking in his state.

“Worse.” he muttered, letting out a breath. “I think I’m done with Halloween for good.”

You laughed softly, and the sound of it warmed him in a way the night air couldn’t. “You say that every year, Alex.”

“And I mean it every year.”

“Sure you do.” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

When you two finally got home, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you seemed to echo in the quiet space. You sighed, bending down to take off your shoes, relieved to be free of them after a night of walking. The costume was starting to feel as cumbersome as Alex’s, but you were more than ready to unwind and put the night behind you.

Just as you balanced on one foot, pulling off your second shoe, you felt it. A light slap on your ass, followed by a familiar, playful pressure as Alex’s hips thrust into you from behind. His hands snaked around your waist, firm and insistent, pulling you back against him. His front bent down to align with your back, lips hovering just above your neck.

“Alex!” you gasped, not sure whether to be annoyed or laugh at how predictable he was.

“We should have sex.” he murmured against your bare shoulder, his voice low, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You sat up, leaning back against his chest, but you didn’t pull away from his hold. “No.”

“Yes.” he countered, not missing a beat, his breath warm against your neck.

“Can’t.” you replied simply, though your resolve was already starting to crumble with the way his hands slid across your waist, tracing the curve of your hips.

Alex’s lips curled into a smirk as he pressed himself closer, his hands slipping lower. “I think I’m very capable of having sex with you.” he muttered, voice thick, his body already moving against yours like he was ready to prove it.

You let out a soft laugh, finally turning around in his arms to face him. “Period, you horny bitch. That’s why I wanted to leave.” you said, giving him a pointed look.

He blinked, a spark of realisation crossing his face before a grin spread slowly across his lips. “Fits the occasion.” he said, completely unbothered, shrugging like it was the most logical thing he could think of. “What’s so bad about getting a little bloody?”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror as he bit down on your neck, playfully channelling his best Dracula impression, already looking like a 21st century reincarnation of him.

“That’s gross, Alex.” you said, half-laughing, half-sighing, though the sensation of his teeth on your skin made it hard to push him away.

“Don’t care.” he said with a wicked grin, his grip on you tightening as he started to take small, clumsy steps forward, guiding you with him. You stumbled together, his hands never leaving your body, your legs tangling up as you nearly toppled over, catching yourself against his chest.

“Consider me the Mephistopheles of Los Angeles.” he continued, lips brushing your ear. “Who’s trying out for a band, obviously.”

“Obviously.” you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as his words got more ridiculous by the second. “You are unbelievable.”

“And irresistible.” he added, clearly pleased with himself as he pressed his forehead to yours, locking his gaze with yours. The room seemed to tilt for a moment, the tension between you electric, fueled by his playful persistence and the heat still buzzing from the party.

Despite everything, you could feel yourself melting against him, your body responding to the warmth of his touch and the way his lips hovered so close to yours, daring you to give in. You knew you weren’t going to win this one, but you let him have his moment anyway, because his relentless charm was working its magic on you, as always.

As Alex’s mouth moved against yours, the remnants of his smudged face paint became a mess between you, slick and greasy as it smeared over your chin, probably even mingling between your mouths. You could taste it, a hint of something synthetic and oily, but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar taste of him, warm, intoxicating, and the way his kiss pulled you deeper into him.

His lips trailed to your jaw, teeth grazing lightly as he murmured, voice low and rough, “I want you down…”

Your breath hitched at the way his words came out, thick with need.

“On your knees.”

“Mhm…” you barely managed to respond, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours, the pressure of his hands on your hips already making you lightheaded. His lips returned to yours, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t giving you enough, not with the way his hands were already moving lower, searching, hungry.

“So I can eat you out.” he growled, each word punctuated with the way his lips ghosted over yours, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Your heart raced, the pulse between your legs almost unbearable at his words, at the way his voice dipped lower. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…fuck-” he groaned, his mouth crashing back to yours briefly before he pulled away, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. He was already palming himself through his jeans, his hand rubbing against the thick outline of his erection, his control slipping with every passing second. “I can’t wait, babe.”

The way his hands roamed over your body, desperate, impatient, made your stomach flip. You could feel his fingers digging into your waist, pulling you closer to him, his need practically vibrating through his grip. He kissed you once more, this time sloppier, hurried, before breaking away entirely.

By the time you reached the bedroom, it was a blur of hasty touches and stumbled steps, the both of you too far gone to care about being graceful. The second you crossed the threshold, he wasted no time. He spun you around and nearly threw you down onto the bed, the weight of your body sinking into the mattress beneath you. His hands followed, tracing up the backs of your thighs with rough, insistent strokes, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress as he pushed it up, exposing the curve of your ass and the damp fabric of your underwear.

He paused for just a second, his breath catching as his gaze fixed on you. 

“You stained your panties.” he muttered, voice tight with restrained desire. His fingers grazed the edge of the fabric, teasingly tugging at the hem, just enough to make you shiver under his touch.

You turned your head to glance back at him, voice barely more than a breath as you answered, “I know. That’s why I wanted to get home.”

His reaction was instant, a deep, guttural sound that came from low in his throat as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the small of your back. His hands slid further up your thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric of your dress, bunching it up higher until it was resting around your waist. He needed to feel you, to have you all to himself.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly, you let yourself lean forward, your chest pressing into the mattress as you arched your back, your ass lifted high for him. You could feel his eyes on you, practically burning holes into your skin with the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuck.” he groaned again. You felt his hands knead the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you open as he took in the sight of you. He dipped his head down, and the warmth of his breath sent a shiver up your spine, anticipation pooling low in your belly.

“You’re fucking perfect.” he murmured, like he couldn’t believe you were here, like this, just for him. His hands roamed over your body. His lips followed, brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs before pressing soft kisses against your ass, teasing and torturous.

“Al-” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with anticipation as your fingers curled tighter into the sheets. The warmth of his breath drifted lower, teasing you, making your skin burn with every second he lingered. You were already soaked, could feel the slick wetness between your thighs. The weight of his stare as he pulled the fabric to the side made it even worse.

But just as the fabric stretched tight against your hips, Alex hesitated for only a fraction of a second before a low, frustrated growl rumbled from his throat. Without warning, his hands tightened, fingers gripping the delicate waistband of your panties, and with one swift motion he tore the frail material right off your body. The sound of it, sharp, unmistakable, ripped through the quiet of the room, the sudden snap making your pulse race.

The air hit your bare skin, cool against the heat of your body, and your breath caught in your throat as the remnants of your panties dangled from his fingers for a split second before he tossed them aside. They were ruined, completely shredded, but you didn’t care. Neither did he.

“They were done for anyway.” he muttered, his breath hot against the back of your thigh. His hands slid back up your legs, rough and impatient, fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer. “Couldn’t help it.”

The sound of the fabric tearing was still echoing in your mind, but all you could focus on now was him. The way his grip tightened, his hands unrelenting as he spread you open. His breath hovered over your most sensitive spot, and you could feel his lips grazing the inside of your thighs, kissing his way up.

“God, you’re so wet.” he breathed as his thumb teased along your slick folds, tracing you, making you gasp. “Been like this all night, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, could only nod as your hips moved instinctively, pushing back toward him, desperate for his touch. The anticipation was unbearable, every second that passed without his mouth on you felt like torture.

“Poor thing.” Alex chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as his fingers parted you gently, exposing you more to the cool air and his hungry gaze. His lips brushed your ass again for a second, before he finally, finally, dipped his head lower.

In an instant, his mouth was on you, hot and wet, and the sensation was electric, lighting up every nerve in your body. You let out a soft moan, fingers clutching the sheets even tighter as he worked his tongue against you, slow at first, savouring the taste of you like he’d been starving for it.

He groaned against your skin, the vibration of it sending shocks of pleasure through you, and the roughness of his slight stubble grazed your inner thighs as his tongue delved deeper, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

You let out a soft, desperate whimper, your hips rolling against his face as his tongue moved with a rhythm that left you breathless. The heat was overwhelming, your body burning from the inside out as Alex devoured you, lost in the taste and the feel of you. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread open and steady as he licked and sucked, his tongue swirling around your clit, dragging out every ounce of pleasure he could pull from you.

“Fuck...you taste so fucking good.” Alex growled against you, his voice rough and muffled as his mouth moved between your thighs, lips and tongue working together to drag you closer and closer to the edge. 

He paused for just a moment, pulling his mouth away to look at your face, turned to watch him, his lips glistening with your slickness, eyes dark and blown with lust. “Almost sweet.” he murmured, “I can’t get enough.”

You whimpered softly at his words, already missing the feel of his tongue on you, your body aching for him to continue. But before you could even ask, he was moving, this time with a different kind of urgency.

He shifted back slightly, his hands still gripping your thighs, but now his fingers moved to the front of his jeans. You could hear the metallic sound of his zipper being dragged down, the noise cutting through the heat of the moment like a shot of adrenaline. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

With a groan, he freed himself, pulling his cock out with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh tightly. His breath hitched as he stroked himself, the slick glide of his hand moving in the same rhythm that his tongue had just been fucking into you.

“Look at you.” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice dripping with desire.

The tension was unbearable. You arched your back further, pushing yourself toward him, desperate for his touch. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Impatient, aren’t you?” he teased, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns over your thighs.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words never came. In an instant, his mouth was on you again, hot and demanding, his tongue dragging over your folds with a groan so deep it found its way through your entire body. Your hips bucked instinctively, a gasp ripping from your throat.

His tongue pushed inside you again, moving with the same pace as his hand on his cock, each stroke of his tongue matched by the slow pump of his fist.

Every time his tongue dipped into your hole, it felt like your body was being torn apart, pleasure shooting up your spine in sharp, dizzying waves. And every time his hand moved over his cock, you could feel the way his body was straining for release, just as desperate as you were. 

You couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from your lips, hips pushing back against his face as your body chased the overwhelming sensation. You were both a mess of limbs, sweat, and heat, tangled up in each other, his mouth relentless against you as his fist moved faster, his groans vibrating against your skin.

He wasn’t holding back, wasn’t teasing anymore. He was all in, and it was driving you wild. The way his hands held you open, the wet heat of his mouth, it was too much and not enough all at once.

Your fingers clenched tighter in the sheets, your body already trembling as he buried his face deeper between your legs. 

And he was loving it. You could hear the way he was groaning, the way he was losing himself in the taste of you, each sound driving you closer to the edge. His hands slid up, one gripping your waist as the other found its way to your clit, circling it with slow strokes that made your knees weak.

“Fuck…” you gasped, barely able to get the word out as your body tensed, everything tightening under the pressure of what he was doing to you. He had you right on the edge, his mouth and fingers working together with an unrelenting rhythm, pulling you apart bit by bit until you were nothing but raw nerves and the overwhelming need to let go.

“That’s it.” he murmured against you, muffled by the way his mouth stayed pressed against your soaked folds. “I want you to come for me, babe.”

And with the way his tongue flicked over your clit, the wet, perfect pressure of his fingers dipping inside of you, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. The heat coiling deep in your belly suddenly snapped, your body going rigid as the orgasm ripped through you, a white-hot wave of pleasure that had you crying out, hips bucking wildly against his mouth.

Your hips dropped, shaking uncontrollably as your body gave in, but Alex didn’t stop. His hands gripped you tighter, refusing to let you go as he followed your movement, craning his neck down to keep his mouth attached to you. His tongue still worked against your clit, dragging out every last tremor until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

“Alex.” you whimpered, trying to pull away, the overstimulation too much to handle, but he didn’t let up. He kept his mouth on you relentlessly, until you were practically shaking, until you had no choice but to push him away, the pleasure bordering on too much.

Finally, he gave up, pulling back with a groan. He turned you over onto your back, and you could see the evidence of everything you’d just been through all over him. Blood smeared across his mouth and chin, mixing with the wet sheen from his lips, and god, it was so fucking hot you didn’t care how weird it might’ve been.

“You look like a vampire.” you said, your breath still coming in shallow gasps.

Alex raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mhm?”

“Sexiest Dracula I’ve ever seen.” you told him, your voice shaky but teasing, the heat between you still electric as he sat back on his knees on the bed, towering over you.

He was still pumping his cock in his hand, his gaze never leaving yours. The sight of him like that, dark hair tousled, face smeared with your blood, his hand wrapped around himself as he watched you with pure hunger in his eyes, made your heart race all over again.

“Let me make you come.” you said, voice soft but insistent as you sat up.

He paused for a moment, his hand stilling, fingers sliding over the tip of his cock slowly as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck, okay.” he breathed, voice strained.

He lay back on the bed, and you didn’t waste any time. You crawled toward him, your knees pressing into the mattress as you leaned over his body. The way he was still fully clothed, his jeans unbuttoned just enough to free his cock, the rest of him completely untouched, made you go crazy. There was something about the contrast of his clothed body against the raw need in his eyes that made your pulse race.

You reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his cock, taking over from where his hand had been. He groaned the moment you touched him, hips lifting off the bed slightly as you gave him a firm stroke. You could feel how hard he was, the weight of him thick and heavy in your hand, and it sent a rush of heat through you all over again.

“Fuck…” Alex moaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, completely at your mercy now.

Alex’s groan echoed in the room as he suddenly shifted, moving you off him with a sense of urgency, getting up from the bed just to pull his jeans down. You watched, your gaze locked on his every movement as he turned his back to you, his body still caught in the dim, hazy light of the room. The waistband of his jeans slid down his hips, and you couldn’t help but stare as his ass bounced slightly, his underwear slipping down as well in one smooth motion. His shirt hung just low enough to almost cover him, but not quite, leaving enough for you to see, and for your imagination to go wild.

“You’re so hot.” you murmured, your voice dripping with desire.

“I know.” he shot back with that signature smirk, turning to face you with his cock hanging heavy between his thighs, the eyeliner around his eyes making his gaze look even darker, more dangerous. He pulled a cigarette from the pack he’d stuffed in his back pocket earlier, flicking it up to his lips. Slumping back onto the bed, he reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the lighter he always kept there. With a flick of his wrist, the flame sparked, and soon the cigarette was lit, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

“Where were we?” he asked, exhaling smoke through his nose as his free hand lazily threaded through your hair.

“I was about to suck your cock.” you replied, your voice thick with hunger as you moved closer to him, leaning down.

“Really?” His eyes gleamed through the haze of smoke.

“Mhm.” you hummed as your lips brushed against the length of him, trailing soft kisses down to his balls, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Just as you were about to take him into your mouth, Alex’s hand on your head tightened slightly, guiding you further down with a low, throaty chuckle. 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” he said, his voice dark and commanding, pushing your head lower until your lips dragged against the sensitive skin beneath his balls. He was taking control, making you follow the path he wanted.

Your tongue flicked out, tracing along that soft, delicate skin, and you could feel him shudder beneath your touch, his legs twitching slightly as you moved lower. He guided you down until your mouth was pressed between his thighs, your tongue now lapping at his hole, and you felt his body stiffen, his hips arching up slightly as you began to work your tongue deeper.

“Oh, fuck…that’s good.” Alex moaned, his voice low and thick as he tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. His legs spread wider, giving you better access, and you buried your face between his thighs, licking at him with slow strokes, your chin brushing against the sheets beneath him as you adjusted to the not-so-comfortable angle. But the way he reacted, the low groans, the way his hips rocked up, the tension in his thighs, made it all worth it.

His hand left your hair after a moment, drifting down to his own cock. He didn’t grab it, didn’t stroke himself like you expected. His fingers only danced lightly over the tip, just barely brushing against that sensitive patch of skin right where the head met the shaft. His movements were soft, teasing, focusing on that delicate spot as your tongue worked him lower.

He groaned again, his body going taut under your touch, smoke curling from his lips as his free hand brought the cigarette back up for another lazy drag. The sight of him, smoke swirling around him, his hand moving lightly over his cock, his head tilted back in pure pleasure, was almost enough to undo you completely.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of his pleasure, soft moans, the wet drag of your tongue, the faint crackle of his cigarette, and you knew you had him exactly where he wanted to be.

His body tensed, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps as he took another drag from his cigarette, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation of your tongue working against him deepened. He could feel the slow burn building, not just in his chest from the nicotine but lower, much lower, where you were focused. The need was overwhelming, coursing through his veins like fire.

Without an ashtray in reach, he glanced down at the cigarette between his fingers. His free hand moved instinctively, smushing the lit end between his fingertips, snuffing it out. The brief sting of the burn barely registered compared to the other burn, the one spreading hot and fast in his groin. The smouldering heat inside him made everything else fade into the background.

He groaned, his hips shifting slightly, the frustration building. He needed more. His hand finally moved to his cock, wrapping tightly around the base of it with a desperation that made him shudder. The moment his fingers closed around his shaft, he started stroking, slow at first but with an urgency that quickly picked up. The slick glide of his hand, combined with your tongue working him, had him right on the edge in seconds.

“Ah-” he moaned, the sound breaking in his throat as his hips jerked up. His hand pumped faster now, fingers curling around the thickness of his cock, stroking himself with that perfect rhythm that matched the tension tightening in his body. The burn was overwhelming, pleasure searing through him as he fucked his fist, every nerve alight with sensation.

His head fell back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut as he lost himself to it, the low sound of his moans filling the room. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs twitching with each stroke of your tongue, his hips lifting off the bed as he chased his release, completely undone.

“Fuck…” Alex groaned, the word dragging out as his body seized, the tension finally snapping as he came hard, his hand freezing mid-stroke. His hips jerked, his muscles tightening beneath your touch as the wave of release crashed over him. His breath hitched, his mouth falling open in a silent moan as his cock pulsed in his hand, spilling over.

But you didn’t stop.

Your tongue kept working him, soft and slow, dragging through the sensitive skin, tracing the shape of him, coaxing out every last tremor. You could feel how he was still twitching beneath you, his body tense with the intensity of it all, but you stayed on him, guiding him through the aftershocks with gentle strokes of your tongue.

“Fuck, babe…” he panted, his voice ragged and hoarse, hips shaking as he tried to come down from it. His hand dropped from his cock, fingers curling weakly into the sheets, surrendering to the pleasure you were still drawing out of him. His entire body shuddered, helpless against the lingering sensation, the overstimulation bordering on too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop.

You felt him go limp beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, chest heaving. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, and he looked utterly wrecked, like he’d been pulled apart and put back together. 

But the faint, satisfied smile on his lips told you he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He wasn’t even sure how it happened, but another wave started building, this time weaker, more drawn out. His cock twitched, untouched, his overstimulated nerves firing in ways he couldn’t explain.  

His hand weakly gripped the sheets, knuckles going white as he fought to stay in control. “Fuck, I’m coming again-” he choked out, his voice barely audible, broken by the overwhelming sensation washing over him. His hips rocked forward, and you could see the weak pulse of his cock as he came again, almost dry this time, but the release was there, shuddering through him, softer but just as intense in its own way.

He groaned low and deep, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest as he tried to ride out the last of it, but it was too much. His thighs trembled, everything twitching inside of him as you kept working him, your tongue relentless even as his body gave out beneath you.

Finally, with a shaky breath, he reached down, fingers tangling in your hair. “Enough…fuck- stop.” he gasped, his voice hoarse, almost pleading as he gently pushed your head away. His thighs squeezed together instinctively, the overstimulation becoming unbearable, every nerve firing at once. 

His body curled slightly as his thighs closed, legs trembling as he tried to recover, his breath ragged and uneven. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as he let out one last deep, satisfied groan. 

You crawled over him slowly, your body aching but buzzing with satisfaction, the heat between you both still thick in the air. Your hand reached up, fingers raking through his dark hair, now slick and wet from the sweat and heat of everything that had just transpired. His chest rose and fell under you, his breath still uneven, but his eyes, even though almost closed, were soft, almost tender. Even with the black eyeliner smeared around his eyes, and the dried blood smeared across his chin, he looked impossibly perfect. 

He glanced up at you, his lips curling into a tired smirk as his hand slid up your side, gently pulling you down to him. “Come here.” he murmured, his voice rough from all the moaning and the exhaustion that was starting to creep in.

You leaned in, his grip on your waist guiding you as you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft, surprisingly so. Almost innocent, if that was even possible after everything you’d just done together. His mouth moved gently against yours, tasting of smoke, sweat, and the faintest hint of what had passed between you. His hand wandered lazily, stroking your back as he kissed you with a sweetness that felt entirely out of place but perfectly right.

Your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, still damp as you kissed him back, enjoying the soft pull of his lips, the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

He sighed into it, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes half-open, the smirk now replaced with something softer. “You wrecked me.” he muttered with a chuckle, his thumb lazily tracing a line down your spine under the dress you still had on. 

You smiled, your heart still pounding as you kissed him again, lighter this time, just a brush of lips. “You loved it.” you whispered back, feeling how utterly spent he was beneath you.

a/n: ehhhhhh…i only like the second part that’s more about him but yeahhh…

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[arseholism]

[ Wow, you're seriously going to attempt reading about me?? Alright then, before we begin this long and tiresome charade, let's go over the basic information you NEED to know and understand.. ] [ NO! i do not want to subscribe to your OF] [ I don't "want" you. I don't "need" you. I don't want to "come see you". ] [ Please for the love of whatever you love most, do not bother telling me this post offended you]

[ Aw you look beautiful when you’re smiling! Love those shoes too ;) ]

[ Alright, get comfortable my darling ] [ I love people, i just don't find many interesting. So technically, the law of averages works against you.] [ You might be awesome.. please, feel welcome to change my mind ] [ Okay, Lets go. ] [ My name is Arias ]

[ You pronounced that wrong! ] [ I like coffee ] [ I like people. I wouldn't be able to live without people.] [ I love talking ] [ You don't know me ] [ You probably wouldn't understand me even if you did ] [ I'm From London ] [ I also live in Los Angeles, Sydney and New york ] [ Because i can ] [ I travel a lot ] [ I'm 6'3 ] [ I like short girls ] [ Not midgets. Short girls ] [ My dad's white, my mum's spanish .. Incase you wondered ]

[ I love American accents! They’re so fucking cute!! ]

[ I'm English ] [ Yes i have an accent, it's london with a hint of sydney] [ I like it.. ] [ No you probably will never hear it ] [ I've played Piano, Guitar and Violin since i was 4 ] [ I write lyrics and music when i'm bored ] [ No i will not write you a song ] [ Yes i can sing ] [ No i will not sing for you ] [ I love to cook ]

[ No i will not cook for you ] [ I'm blunt so i can be an arsehole ] [ I'm quite nice in general ] [ I'm passive, i really don't give a fuck ] [ Unless i care.. then I absolutely give a fuck ] [ I won't suck up just so you like me ] [ I do what I want ] [ I do not like cameras, in case you’re wondering why my page isn’t littered with selfies ] [ No i will not be your trick monkey ] [ or your human puppet ] [ enough. ] [ Make me smile, make me laugh, i'll get addicted to you ] [ I'm a cuddle whore ] [ I'm attracted to pretty faces and beautiful smiles ] [ I'm a dreamer ] [ I love to plan dreamy dates and sensational moments] [ I have sleep issues. I like my issues ] [ I love to read ] [ I think you're spiffy because you're still reading this ] [ I'm bored right now, so i may NEVER stop. ] [ I LOVE to cook. I even bake my own bread haha ] [ If you tak lyke dis, dun fuhkin tak 2 me mkay? ] [ Right. got that off my chest ] [ I swim, i run, i eat unhealthy, my body is so confused, but it's pretty to look at? ] [ I love music, i have way too much music for one guy ] [ I love kids, i have 3 god children and they rock my world ] [ I'm opinionated and judgemental, however, i will listen to your opinion and i will listen to your side of the story] [ I'm hopelessly romantic ] [ I'm very very very picky ] [ No. I'm not looking for anything or anyone ] [ Romance.. is so misunderstood ] [ I'm broken ] [ No. You can't fix me ] [ Wow. I didn't stop. You didn't stop. We're still here and we're meant to be *gushes* haha ] [ I'll probably adopt. ] [ I'm always bored ] [ I like conversation ] [ I love to read ] [ I don't like pictures, i figure that if there is something beautiful enough, it'll burn into my memory ] [ I however, do not want you to hit on me ] [ I can be very perverted ] [ No, this does not imply i want to talk dirty ] [ Or.. that i want you to talk dirty ] [ Please try not to be too creepy.. PRETTY PLEASE? ] [ I'm also very moralistic ] [ I love my imagnation ] [ I have a major oral fetish ] [ Do we have things in common? ] [ No, You could probably never be my dream girl ] [ I have never had a one night stand ] [ Yes, i'm very picky and fucking frustrating ] [ Are you Captain Entertainment? Sent to rescue me from the trescherous depths of boredom? ] [ Didn't think so.. ] [ I love cookies, they make me happy ] [ I love cold miserable rainy weather ] [ I'm cheeky ] [ I'm complicated ]

[ I'm curious ]

[ Did the brackets annoy you? ]

[ Stupid word count ]

[ Go on.. Judge me! ]

[ Message me if you still want more ]

[pinksturniolo]

Biggest Fan: Part Two

Summary: The one in which a fan gets rear ended in a car accident by none other than Christopher Sturniolo during her stay in Los Angeles.

A/N: This is my first series I will be publishing on here! There will most likely be 3 or 4 parts. I hope you like it and I’m really excited to share with you all. :)

Content Warnings: smut, oral receiving/giving, fingering, penetration, slight degradation, swearing, brief mentions of blood, head injuries, mentions of a car accident. mentions of a panic attack

word count: 5,287 😳

I was inspired by this song:

‎

‎ 𐮙ღ✰☾✿ღ𐮙

You were having a panic attack.

You tried to calm down in the 5 minutes it took Matt to drive to their house, but your thoughts continued to race, and your hands became shakier the more your head continued to throb with pain. Your wet sneakers squeaked against the floor as they led you into the house, having a seat at their kitchen table. You were starting to get tunnel vision, your breaths getting more rapid by the second. You’ve had panic attacks before, but this was the first time in a long time it’s occurred and the fact that you were inside the home of your favorite Youtubers did not help. Nick and Matt announced they were going to shower, being that you all got drenched in the rain, both of them giving you hesitant looks. “Chris, go find the first aid kit. We’ll be right back.” he instructed, giving you one last look before they both disappeared to their rooms.

Chris sat next to you, hovering his hand over your shoulder, unsure if he should touch you or not. “Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Yeah... I just feel really lightheaded all of a sudden. I think I need to lie down.” You responded, dropping your head into your arms on the table, closing your eyes. You tried taking deep breaths to calm your pounding heart.

Chris jumped up. “Of course, you can lie down in my room while I go look for the first aid kit.” He said, making you lift your head to look at him in surprise. “Oh no, I meant like on the couch. I don’t want to invade your privacy...” You laughed nervously. He shook his head, a smile forming on his face. “I’m the one who invited you here, I promise I don’t care. Besides, I’d rather my bed get wet than the couch. I can always wash the sheets tomorrow.” He said, reminding you that were still in your wet clothes, now including his hoodie which also had a bloody sleeve. You let out another nervous laugh. “Right…”

“Come on.” Chris said, motioning for you to follow him downstairs. Once you got to his room, he switched the light on and patted the bed, inviting you to sit down. You did slowly, your arms shaking as you perched on the edge. He was still standing, looking down at you. Now that he could see you in better lighting, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were. You had plush, pink lips and warm brown eyes, giving him the most innocent look that tugged at his heart strings. Water droplets were falling from the long dark hair that framed your face, dark red nails gripping the side of his bed. There was no doubt he was extremely attracted to you.

He noticed your leg bouncing in nervousness, your black converse making a small damp spot on his carpet. “Do you want to take your shoes off? I can put them in the garage so they can dry a little bit.” He spoke. His stare was making you even more nervous and you were grateful he broke the silence. “Oh yeah, sorry I-“ you started to say when he suddenly crouched down, carefully taking your left ankle in his hands and slipping off your shoe, then doing the same with the right one. Your eyes widened, butterflies again swarming your stomach at the light touch. You watched as he stood back up, both your shoes in his hand as he crossed the room to his dresser, grabbing a pair of grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt. He came back over, setting the clothes next to you on the bed. He smiled sweetly at you, seeming to ignore the fact that he just removed your shoes for you. “You can change into these while I go look for that kit, okay?” he says, making his way towards the door. “Uh… thank you…” You say meekly. “No problem, sweetheart. Be right back.” He responds, looking at you once more with a smirk before he closes the door, noticing the obvious look of fluster on your face, your jaw slightly dropping.

Sweetheart? Did he really just say that? If your heart could beat any faster, it would explode out of your chest. Was he flirting with you?

So far, he had insisted that you come to his house, willingly brought you to his room, gave you his clothes, touched your face in the car earlier, took off your shoes and called you sweetheart. Not to mention the longing stare he was giving you earlier. You know that any girl would kill to be in your place. But you wanted nothing more than to leave the minute you got here.

Would you have the chance to sleep with him if you stayed? You weren’t the type to throw yourself at any guy, even if it was Christopher Sturniolo himself. Let’s just admit it, even if you were that type, you didn’t have the guts to act upon your desires. You were way too shy. Not to mention, you’re just a fan. Who’s to say he even found you attractive? What if he was just taking pity on you? What if he-

These are the thoughts running through your head as you sit on the black sheets of his bed, your hair, clothes and socks completely soaked from the rain that was currently pouring down outside. The cut on your forehead from the accident burns as you reach up to touch it. You wince, blood dripping onto your fingertips as you look down at your hand. Your stomach starts to turn in on itself, a wave of nausea starting to set in. You decide this was a bad idea to come here and are about to bolt out of the room but before you can stand up, Chris comes through the door, a clean towel in his hand and some more items in his other hand, a look of panic on his face once he makes eye contact with you.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out or something.” He speaks.

You let out a small laugh, smoothing your palms on the top of your thighs to try to calm your nerves down.

“I’m fine, this is just… a lot. I feel like I’m intruding.” You reply, looking hesitantly around his room.

This whole night has been surreal, and you still have no idea how you ended up in this situation. Chris sits next to you, handing you the towel to dry yourself off. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, a smile on his face again. “I literally rear ended you in a car accident and you think you’re intruding?” he says, shaking his head. “Stop worrying about intruding and let’s focus on the real issue here. That cut on your head is still bleeding. I couldn’t find the first aid kit, but I brought another clean towel and some bandages.” He then brings the smaller towel he brought with him to your face, gently wiping the blood clean that had trickled down from your forehead. Your breath slightly hitches, and you clutch the other towel to you, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Is this okay?” he asks, pausing his movements. “Yes.” You say after a few seconds. He continues cleaning your face and putting some pressure on the cut while you use the towel he gave you to dry your thighs and legs. Once he finishes, he places the bandage on the wound and you can’t help but stare at him, a cute look of concentration on his face. Your nerves slightly go away and your heart rate slows down, Chris’ presence bringing a sense of calmness to you. The silence is comfortable instead of awkward. You no longer feel like you want to run to the nearest exit. “All good.” He says, pulling away from you. “Thank you again. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the nursing type.” You joke, a playful smile on your face. He scoffs, his eyes narrowing at you. “You’re funny. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He then glances at the clothes he had set next to you earlier.

“You don’t want to change? I know they’ll probably be a little big on you but if you stay in your wet clothes, you might catch a cold. And I would know, seeing as I have great nursing skills and all.” He adds, making you laugh. “I’m gonna take a shower in Nick’s room so I can get dry as well. I have a shower over there in my bathroom, I don’t mind if you use it.” He says and you open your mouth to protest but before you can talk, he holds up his hands and cuts you off. “I promise it’s fine. You can lock the door behind me and take as long as you need to. I swear. I just want you to be more comfortable.” He said, a serious look on his face. You roll your eyes and take a deep breath, knowing that Chris is just as stubborn as you are and won’t take no for an answer in this situation. “Okay, okay. I’ll call my friend and see if she can come get me once I’m done.” If she’s even up at this time.

“Deal.” He nods and smiles as he seems to be satisfied with your answer, standing up and grabbing some clothes to take with him. He walks toward his door, giving you another reassuring smile. Before he can walk out, you speak again. “Thank you, Chris. Honestly. I really do appreciate how nice you’ve been tonight.” He can’t help the way his heart skips a small beat at the sound of you saying his name and the genuine smile on your face. “You’re welcome.” He responds, winking at you and closing the door with a soft click.

‎ 𐮙ღ✰☾✿ღ𐮙

You took a hot shower, careful not to get the bandage on your head wet, changing into his clothes and placing a dry towel on the spot on his bed you were sitting in earlier. You already felt ten times better now that you were dry and clean. You gathered your wet clothes, placing them into a neat pile on his bathroom floor. Then you grabbed your phone, checking the time. 2:30 am.

You silently prayed your friend Isabel would answer as you called her. You really didn’t want Matt to have to drive you back to your hotel and you also didn’t want to overstay your welcome.

Ring ring ring.

She didn’t answer. You tried 2 more times and called your other friend that came with you.

Still no answer. Fuck.

You sighed, sending them a text to call you as soon as they could. You set your phone back down on Chris’ nightstand, looking around his room again. It was slightly messy but not as much as you would have thought. There were little knickknacks here and there, pieces of his personality throughout the room. It smelled like his cologne and was still slightly warm from the shower you took. Chris knocked on the door, interrupting you creepily observing his room.

You walked over and opened it for him, a cheeky smile already on his face. His hair was slightly wet from the shower, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a white tank top on.  He looked insanely good.

You stopped yourself from staring any longer and moved aside so he could walk in. The way he called you sweetheart earlier replays in your head.

“Feel better now?” he asks, looking you up and down. “My clothes look good on you.”

You clear your throat, ignoring his comment despite the immediate swarm of butterflies it gives you. “I called both of my friends I’m staying with, but they didn’t answer. I was going to try again in a few minutes.”  You said, self consciously covering your chest with your arms as you realized you did not have a bra on and the air was now cold from the door being opened, letting all the shower steam out.

Chris walks past you, plopping down on his bed, leaning back on one of his elbows with his legs spread. “Okay… well either way I don’t mind if you have to stay. Matt and Nick already passed out after harassing me to make sure you were okay, and Matt has no problem driving you home later on.” He responds. You just look at him, unsure what to say. Considering the events of tonight and how many times Chris has made it clear he doesn’t find it weird you being here, you’re ready to just agree with him from now on. Your body and mind feel exhausted at this point, and you don’t really have it in you to argue anymore.

He’s still staring at you, waiting for your response when you finally take a seat next to him, tucking your legs underneath you. “Alright then, guess I’m stuck here for the time being.” You say and Chris tries to hide his excitement. “I do have a good question for you though.” You add, putting your chin in your hand and giving him a playfully stern look. He raises his eyebrows, curious as to what you’re going to say next. “Shoot.” He answers. “What the hell were you doing when you hit me?” You ask and he immediately throws his head back, laughing. You can’t help but laugh too, the sound like music to your ears.

“Matt had agreed to let me drive home from Taco Bell and I swear I was doing great. Next thing I know, I’m choosing the next song to play on aux, and I look away for one second and there you are, appearing out of nowhere. Actually, now that I think about it, I think it was your fault that I hit you.” He says, smirking at you. You give him a deadpan look which makes him laugh again. “Yeah okay buddy. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You respond back, relaxing against his pillow.

He seems to mirror your comfortable position and lays on his side across from you, still leaning on his elbow, placing his head on his fist. “I haven’t even asked your name yet. What is it?” He said. “Y/N.” You answer. “Y/N.” He repeats with a smile. “Pretty name.” You feel a blush creep across your face which only makes his smile widen.

‎ 𐮙ღ✰☾✿ღ𐮙

For the next hour, you and Chris talk. The conversation flows easily between you two. He asks about college and what you’re currently studying, your hometown, and how long you will be in LA. He genuinely seems interested in what you have to say, and to your pleasant surprise, he’s just as funny in real life as he is on camera. Not to mention, just as gorgeous. As corny as it seems, you can’t help but get lost in his dreamy blue eyes. The way his hair falls in his face and how strong his arms look in his tank top. And his voice. God, you could talk to him for hours. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was in bed, if he talked you through it, if he was rough, or if he was into praising.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris is admiring you as well. He listens to you when you answer his questions with ease and he appreciated the fact you didn’t ask him too many personal questions about his life. He loved the way your lips move when you talked, how your eyes lit up when you mentioned your friends and family. He couldn’t help but notice your alluring figure even in his baggy clothes and he definitely noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra. He wondered when or if he would ever get a view of your plush thighs again, how good your lips would feel against his, if you were flexible enough to let him hold your ankles by your head when he was deep inside you. He felt the slight tension earlier when he removed your shoes for you and to be quite honest, it took every ounce of strength in him not to touch himself in the shower.

A loud rumble of thunder outside broke you and Chris’ current debate on the best flavor of ice cream. You glanced at the time on your phone. 3:45 am. You looked at him with sleepy eyes, fatigue starting to set in. He also looked tired, the whites in his eyes slightly red. “I don’t think your friends are coming anytime soon…” he said softly, scooting onto the other side of the bed next to you, getting underneath the blanket. Suddenly you felt hot, your heart rate picking up a little. Surely he didn’t expect you to sleep in here with him?

“Yeah I figured as much. I’ll just get some rest, I’m pretty exhausted.” You said, getting up to go to the living room, your intentions to sleep on the couch. But before you could leave, he grabbed your wrist. “Where are you going?” He asked, a puppy dog look in his eyes. Your eyes widened, glancing at his grip on your wrist. “Um… The couch?” You replied with confusion in your voice. He simply shook his head, dropping your wrist and patting the spot you were just in. “It’s fine. Just sleep in here.” He said, opening the blanket for you to get under.

 You hesitated for a while until he said, “I don’t wanna hear any excuses that you’re intruding or suggestions of me going to the couch instead cause there’s no way you’re gonna kick me out of my own bed.” He said, earning a scoff from you. You got back onto the bed, laying down next to him, ensuring there was as much space as possible between the two of you. “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?” You said, closing your eyes since you could barely keep them open anymore. He chuckled, his voice raspy with fatigue when he replied, “Anything to get you in bed next to me, princess.”

Your eyes shot open at his response, and when you made eye contact with him, his expression was unreadable, any hint of joking gone from his features. You were unsure what to say or if you had even heard him correctly.

Princess.

Sweetheart.

Never in a million years would you have ever thought you would hear Chris Sturniolo call you a pet name. It drove you crazy.

He started to feel bad as you stared at him blankly, worried that he crossed a line.

“Am I making you uncomfortable? I swear that’s not my intention. If you feel weird, I can go-“ he said and you started to shake your head.

“Chris. I’m not uncomfortable at all… It just makes me nervous when you say things like that.” You admitted. He smirked and then clapped suddenly which made you jump. You burst into laughter once you realized what he did. The lights had turned off. “Oh my god. Of course you have clap on, clap off lights.” You said, still trying to control your laughter. He laughed with you, closing his eyes and getting more comfortable in the bed. “Don’t make fun of me.”

You turned away from him, letting your eyes close as well, ready to let the sleep take over your body. But for the second time around today, you still found yourself not being able to. This time, it was because you couldn’t stop thinking about Chris’ voice calling you princess and sweetheart, the way his touch felt on your face and how the simple act of him taking off your shoes turned you on. You squeezed your thighs together, starting to feel a throb from your salacious thoughts.

You heard Chris toss and turn a couple times, knowing he hadn’t fallen asleep either. The sexual tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. And you knew tension wouldn’t be that thick unless the other person was having the same thoughts. You were in a bed with the guy you had an embarrassingly huge crush on. You thought. Who knows when you will have this chance again? Obviously, the universe had set a fucking huge opportunity in your lap, and you would be an idiot if you didn’t take advantage.

 You knew if anything was going to happen, you would have to be the one to make the first move.

You’re not sure where this sudden wave of confidence came over you as you spoke out loud after what had felt like an eternity. “Chris… were you flirting with me earlier?” You ask, your heart beating so hard you could hear it in your ears.

“What do you think, Y/N.” He simply replied, his voice raspy.

The thunder echoed again outside, rain still beating down. The early morning hours made the room a dark, midnight blue color, some light seeping in from the street, the scent of his strong cologne still in the air.

You turned towards him, and his eyes were already on you, his expression dark, sending a small shiver through you, butterflies gathering in your stomach for the thousandth time tonight. He stared into your eyes and then your lips and back to your eyes again. You moved closer to him, letting out a shaky breath. You slowly placed a hesitant hand to his chest. His heart was racing.

You bit your lip, staring at his. A few more inches and they would connect with yours. You looked into his eyes again, searching for some sort of approval.

“If at any time, you want to stop or you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop. Understand?” he said quietly, placing a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. You nodded, moving your hand on his chest, to his face, your lips now brushing, sending sparks through your body. “I need words, princess.” He whispered. “Yes.” You breathed, your lips finally connecting.

The tension that had been building the whole night seemed to snap and burn the moment you kissed. His lips molded with yours perfectly, and you slid your hand into his hair, the deeper the kiss got, both of you moaning from the passion that had been ignited. You already felt wetness between your thighs, knowing how much of a mess you were beginning to make in his sweatpants. His tongue slipped into your mouth, only making your stomach do somersaults and he gripped your hips tighter, pulling your leg around his waist. You pulled on his hair slightly, making him groan into your mouth. He then traced kisses down your jaw and onto your neck as you leaned your head back for easier access. He sucked and licked and bit his way all over your neck, leaving little love bites in his trail. He held you even tighter to him as you kept your leg wrapped around him, and you suddenly felt how hard and big he was through his sweatpants, making you lust for more.

This had gotten hot and heavy fast, the passion and chemistry from both you of pouring out, small moans and whimpers filling the room. He continued the assault on your neck until you couldn’t take it anymore, your wetness growing by the second and your fingers in his hair gripping for dear life. At this moment, all your nerves had disappeared, your need to feel him even closer becoming your main priority.

“Chris.” You exhaled with a shaky breath, moving your hands to grip his broad shoulders. He moaned against your neck, trailing his plump lips back to yours. “Say my name again.” He whispered against you, his breathing hard. “Chris… I need you.” You replied, letting your hands smooth down his chest and then dip down to go under his shirt, feeling his stomach flex against your fingertips. He hummed and took your bottom lip in between his teeth, biting very softly. “How do you need me, sweetheart?” he asked, teasing you and looking into your eyes. “Show me.” He demanded.

You took his hand and moved it to where you needed him most, dipping into your sweats. You weren’t wearing any underwear, he discovered, as his fingers slicked through your folds. “Fuck… you’re soaked.” He breathed, circling a finger around your entrance, making you moan loudly as he moved it back up, making slow, small circles around your clit. “Please, Chris.” You whined, feeling the neediest you ever have. “Please what? Hm? You want me to make you feel good?” He said, now putting his hands under your shirt and grabbing your breasts, thumbs flicking across your nipples. “Yes. Please. Yes.” Was all you could manage, your hands gripping his shirt, lifting it up so he could take it off. He removed his hands from your breasts, slipping his shirt over his head quickly and then moving so he could hover over you. He lifted your shirt now, helping you remove it, leaning down to leave wet kisses down your chest and stomach, making you squirm, stopping near the top of your sweatpants.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes almost black with lust, his lips swollen and red, his hair wild. The sight almost made you moan aloud. “Can I take these off?” he asked sweetly, his hands around your hips, ready to pull your pants off once you gave him the approval. You nodded and he squeezed your hips roughly. “Words, please. I’m not gonna tell you again, mama.” He says, giving you a stern look.

“Yes. Take them off already.” You say in a rush. He smirks at your neediness, pulling the sweats he gave you down your legs and off your body, discarding them somewhere on the floor. His large hands splay across your thighs, spreading you open for him, and he groans at the sight of your arousal glistening in the dim light of the room, leaning down to place kisses along the insides of your thighs, sucking and leaving more hickeys on your body.

“Remember what I said, princess? If you want to stop, just tell me.” He says, still holding your legs open for him. “Yes, Chris.” You respond.

“Good girl.” He says, then taking a finger and slowly pushing it into you.

You lay your head back, closing your eyes, your heart racing and fingernails digging into his bed sheets. The pleasure from just his finger alone is enough to elicit a fire through your body as he fucks it in and out of you for a few moments before adding another finger, making your back arch slightly. “Fuuuckk…” You moan quietly, your teeth biting down hard into your bottom lip. He’s in a trance watching your slick arousal coat his fingers, the wet sounds and your sweet moans like music to his ears. His dick twitches painfully in his pants as he wants nothing more than to know what you feel like around him, crying out his name while he stretches you out.

But he wants to take his time with you. He’s been enamored by you since he first laid eyes on you and wants to give you everything you deserve. He lays down on his stomach now, strong arms wrapping around your thighs, keeping you wide open, and he looks up at you seeing your blissful expression and eyes screwed shut. “Y/N. Look at me. I wanna see your face when I make you cum.” He rasps, pulling you even closer, his breath fanning against your aching cunt.

Your heart races and face redden at his words, bringing your head up to look at him and propping yourself up on your elbows. He keeps eye contact with you as he places his flat, wet tongue on your clit with pressure, making you cry out. He then makes circles and sucks on it, and you can’t help but let your eyes roll back in your head. He drags his tongue down to your entrance, thrusting it in a few times, making your toes curl and your back arch. “Oh God, don’t stop.” You moan as he alternates between sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue. He grips you tighter, keeping you in place as you fall apart from his mouth on you.

You feel a delicious warmth spread through you, a tight coil forming in your abdomen. You lay back down, your hands fisting in his hair as you grip tightly and pull, earning a deep moan from him which reverberates through you. Your moans and cries get louder and more desperate as you feel the coil threaten to burst, tingles down your spine. He adds two fingers back inside of you, thrusting at a fast pace and brushing that spongy spot when he curls them, his warm tongue circling your clit.

“Chris… fuuuck. Chris, please.” You say his name over and over again like a chant, your legs locking around his back. “I know mama, let go. Cum for me.” He responds, knowing you’re close. He can’t help but thrust down into the mattress, trying to release the tension in his crotch. He almost cums in his pants from seeing how much pleasure he’s giving you. “You look so pretty like this. I can’t wait to feel you around my dick. Fuck, you’re so needy, making a mess all over my hand. Cum for me sweetheart.” He coos.

The coil snaps and warmth floods your body from his words as you throw your head back and cry out his name. Your legs shake as he coaxes you through your climax, only letting go of you until you’re done riding out your high, your breathing come out in short, rapid puffs. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” he praises, coming up to kiss you and you taste yourself on his tongue. You reach your hand down to palm his erection which makes him moan against your mouth. “I need you so bad.” he says, pulling his sweats off and reaching into his nightstand for a condom. The thought of him inside you excites you all over again and with the sheer force of the orgasm he just gave you, you can only imagine what it would feel like.

A sharp knock on his door interrupts your moment of bliss and Chris silently curses next to you. “You got to be kidding me.” he says standing up and pulling his sweats back on. He gives you an apologetic glance as you cover yourself up under his blanket. “One second.” He says, going to the door and cracking it open an inch. “What.” He hisses at the person on the other side. You think you hear Matt’s voice in a hushed tone, him and Chris exchanging a few words you can’t make out. Then he shuts the door, locking it again and walks over to you. He looks a little awkward, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Your friend is here to pick you up.” He finally says. You now realize it’s early morning, the sun barely starting to come up, the room now a light blue and you grab your phone from his nightstand.

5:00 am.

4 missed calls.

5 text messages.

The most recent one from your friend Isabel – Okay, you’re not answering. I’m getting worried. I’m on my way.

Convenient timing. You think, your head falling back in frustration as Chris grabs the clothes he gave you earlier from the floor and hands them to you to get dressed.

a/n: ahhh what a cliffhanger 😅 i would love any and all feedback!! let me know your thoughts pls :) there will be one more part to this out later this week, but let me know how yall like it! do we like the use of y/n? i wasn’t sure if i should use it or not i just couldn’t come up with a good name 😂 lmk :)

[glorious-spoon]

Ace of Hearts [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

Ace of Hearts

9600 words | Teen misunderstandings | oblivious Evan Buckley | feelings realization | friends to lovers | first kiss | not actually unrequited love | POV multiple | the poker date

-

It's late enough by the time they get home that most of the lights are off, although Jee's curtains are open just enough for Maddie to see the soft kaleidoscope from her nightlight on the ceiling. Hopefully, she didn't give Buck too much trouble about settling in—or con him into letting her stay up with him past her bedtime. She's been going through a clingy phrase lately, and Buck is absolutely a sucker for his niece's big brown eyes and adorable pout.

When they get inside, though, Buck's alone on the couch, a documentary on sea mammals muted on the TV while he scrolls through his phone. He holds a finger up to his lips as they come in, so Howie shuts the door behind him and locks it with exaggerated care. Maddie slips her shoes off and drops her purse on the side table by the door before stepping into the room.

"How was she?" she whispers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Just, like, the coolest little girl in Los Angeles."

"Obviously," Howie says. "She's my daughter."

Maddie swats at him fondly, and he leans in to kiss her cheek before slipping around her to pad down the hall toward Jee's room. She watches him lean against the doorway, smiling, his tired face lit up by the soft, shifting lights, and then looks back at Buck in time to see him following her gaze with something wistful in his expression. 

"What is it?" she whispers.

Buck winces, then shakes his head with a rueful smile. "Uh, nothing. Just tired. How was the cake?"

"Expensive," Maddie says. "I don't know how I'm supposed to pick just one flavor."

"Did you at least narrow it down?"

"Umm…well, there's the vanilla with raspberry filling, the vanilla with mixed berry compote, the lemon lavender…"

"I'm holding out for the white chocolate," Howie says as he steps back into the living room. "Hey, seriously, thanks for watching her, Buck. I know it was last minute."

"Yeah, no problem. Not like I have anything else going on." There's a slightly sour note to it that Buck must hear as soon as he says it, because he makes a face, waves his hand like he's dismissing a bad smell, and pulls on a smile.

(Continue reading on AO3)

[fluentmoviequoter]

My Home

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x (shy-ish)fem!reader

Summary: You are Deacon's favorite neighbour, but when you start receiving threats, he notices a change in you. While he and his team search for answers, you are attacked. Deacon returns home to find you and come to some realisations of his own.

Warnings: fluff then angst then back to fluff, descriptive threats and violence against reader (nothing too serious, though), Deacon gets angry and protective

Word Count: 4.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Moving to a new place is never easy, but when you’re on the shyer side, it becomes infinitely more difficult. When you move into your new home in Los Angeles, you are careful about who you choose to introduce yourself to. One neighbour stands out; you see him leaving and returning at odd hours, often wearing a shirt with ‘L.A.P.D.’ printed on it. When he notices you in your yard or getting out of your car, he smiles or waves, and you return it, albeit shyly. He is the only neighbour you think about and actually want to talk to. 

So, now that your boxes are unpacked and your spaces are beginning to feel like your own, you decide to bake him a few treats and put together a gift basket. He welcomed you without bombarding questions or making you nervous, and you appreciate that. And his attractiveness certainly doesn’t hurt your opinion of him.

Crossing the road carefully, you balance the finished basket in your arms. There are baked goods, cookies, a batch of scones, and a casserole at the bottom, with some store-bought items you think anyone would appreciate. You saw him arrive home about an hour ago, just after you removed the scones from the oven. Taking a deep breath, you raise one hand and knock on his door, silently praying that you are right about him and that he is as kind as you believe he will be. The door opens quickly, and he smiles at you. You can’t stop your matching smile as it grows, nor do you want to.

“Hi,” you say, willing your voice to remain steady as you introduce yourself.

“Pretty name,” he murmurs. “I’m David, but my friends call me Deacon.”

“Then what I should I call you?”

His eyebrows raise as his smile shifts, crooked at his amusement. “Deacon,” he decides, nodding once.

“Nice to meet you, Deacon. I’m sure you’ve seen me – or maybe you haven’t – but I just moved in across the street a few weeks ago. I wanted to do a little something for my new neighbours, so I brought you this,” you say, offering him the basket, though his eyes remain on your face as he accepts it. “I hope you like it.”

“Thank you,” he says, trying to catch your eyes again.

You shy away slightly with his full attention on you, though you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“And I have noticed you,” Deacon adds. “Who wouldn’t?”

Heat crawls up your neck, and your shoes are suddenly worthy of all your attention. Deacon chuckles, turning to set the basket down as he treats it with such care you suddenly wonder what it would be like to be held by him.

“You’re a little shy, aren’t you?” Deacon asks.

It doesn’t sound right; when other people ask, it’s a condescending or pity-filled question, but when Deacon asks, it seems like he’s asking about your favourite colour. He treats the topic like it’s just another mundane fact about you.

Nodding, you force your eyes back to his face. “I can be.”

“I’ll try not to tease you, then. Too much.”

“Seems like you’re starting early.”

You smile, and Deacon can barely handle it. Your personality drew him in, even when he only knew you from across the street. Your shy greetings and kindness awe him; Deacon doesn’t understand how someone who gets shy so quickly can also be so kind. You’re like a drop of sunlight, and Deacon has learned to appreciate each drop he can find.

✯✯✯✯✯

After giving Deacon the gift basket, and avoiding his questioning as to who else received one, you grow closer daily. Instead of waving when he gets home, Deacon jogs across the street and stands in your yard to talk to you. He asks you about your day and if you’ve baked anything else. He remains true to his word, only teasing you occasionally when you get shy.

As you return home, Deacon is waiting in front of your door. He walks to your car, opening your door after you turn the ignition off.

“You’re late,” he says, offering a hand as he helps you out.

“I needed groceries,” you argue, smiling as you squeeze his hand in thanks.

You hop out of the car and move to the back, revealing numerous bags.

“However,” you begin, turning toward him with pure sunshine in your eyes. “I don’t think I can eat this entire recipe by myself.”

Deacon’s brows furrow and your smile drops slightly, prepared to retract your comment.

“Well, who could turn down an invitation like that? Does the smile come with the meal?”

You press your shoulder to your cheek, hiding as you turn away from him.

“How are you going to survive tonight?” Deacon asks playfully.

“I also got you a new flowerpot, because the ones on your porch are outgrowing the vase. If you don’t like it, I can get you another one.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t seen it.”

“You bought it. It’s perfect.”

Deacon decides to keep you company while you cook, though you think he’s more efficient in distracting you. He helps you chop vegetables and mix spices, but when his arm brushes against yours, you lose your train of thought and stop talking in the middle of a sentence.

Deacon notices and smiles but decides saying anything would fall into the ‘teasing too much’ category. And if he accidentally touches you again, it seems like a complete accident.

“You’re the best neighbour ever,” Deacon praises after he takes the first bite.

“I think you are,” you argue.

“You don’t know any other neighbours,” Deacon says, pointing at you with his fork.

“Who needs more than you?”

Deacon smiles, his brows raising at your boldness. When he leaves after helping you clean up, he hugs you tightly and promises to cook for you as soon as he has time.

“So, when you retire?” you joke.

“Just for that comment, we’re setting a date,” Deacon decides, opening the calendar on his phone. “Next Friday. That work for you?”

“That’s perfect.”

Deacon turns to return home, and you call his name, waiting for him to turn around before you speak.

“Thank you.”

“It’s what the best neighbours are for!” he yells, winking at you and laughing when you duck your chin to hide your face.

✯✯✯✯✯

The morning after your dinner with Deacon, you wake with a smile. His car is gone; he told you he was leaving early for a 24-hour shift. You tried to get him home early, but he said time with you was more important than sleep.

When you walk into your kitchen, you see the flowerpot you got for Deacon and decide to surprise him by transplanting his plant so it has room to grow and finding the perfect spot to place it. You toss a pair of gloves, a small trowel and an old rag into the container before locking your front door and walking toward Deacon’s house. Stopping in your driveway, you set everything down to remove a piece of paper from under your windshield wiper.

NOT WITH A BANG BUT WITH A WHIMPER

where women belong

The papers are haphazardly taped together: the concluding line of T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men” and three additional words. Together, the sentence doesn’t mean anything to you until you read the last line, clumsily added in bold block letters.

no more policeman

You swallow harshly, glancing around. It’s another ordinary day in the neighbourhood as you hold a threatening note that someone somehow placed less than thirty feet from your front door without being noticed. Sliding the paper in your pocket, you look between Deacon’s house and the flowerpot. 

“No more policeman,” you repeat to yourself. “But the policeman isn’t home.”

To get your mind off the note and Deacon, you continue your walk to his porch and kneel as you begin working. It doesn’t take too long, but the process is therapeutic while it lasts.

There’s probably a metaphor about outgrowing your old surroundings or finding bigger, better things, but you're not in the mood to appreciate it. Once you’re finished, you can only think about the paper in your pocket. Stepping back to ensure the plant looks good in its new location, you nod to yourself and remove your gloves, gathering your things to return to your empty house.

Deacon can never find out about the note; no one can. As far as you can tell, after hours of staring at it, the message means you will end not with a bang but with a whimper unless you stop talking to Deacon. You pray to find a different meaning, but you only know one policeman and the singular tense makes you think that’s who it’s about.

Spending the first night alone after receiving the threat is not enjoyable, and your fear multiplies when you remember that Deacon is at work all night. Finally falling into a fitful sleep, you dream of Deacon and a time when nothing separates your lives.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, Deacon still isn’t back when you wake. Moving slowly, you enter your kitchen and prepare far more food than you can eat alone. Someone rings the doorbell, and when you finally reach it, pulling it ajar slowly, a package is in the middle of your doormat. You rip it open, your heart falling when you see the paper within.

good job not telling anyone. 

Friends can stay close until they learn too much, for that is when enemies are formed.

The first line feels like a bullet ripping through you: whoever this is can see you. If they know you haven’t told anyone, they know everything you have or haven’t done recently. Who knows how long they have been watching you.

You hear Deacon’s car before you see it, rushing to stash the new note with the other. Friends can stay close, but you can’t alert Deacon that anything is wrong. You don’t know what to do. If you weren’t aware that someone was watching you, you would tell Deacon and pray that everything worked out in the end, but now you’re putting Deacon in the line of fire, which is something he chooses to do at work, not at home.

“Good morning!” he calls as he jogs across the street.

“Morning,” you answer, letting him in before returning to the kitchen to finish cooking.

Deacon’s brows furrow at your lack of enthusiasm. You usually act like you haven’t seen him in years, even if it’s been mere minutes.

“Everything go alright without me last night?” Deacon asks, helping himself to your fridge.

You hum something like “mmhmm,” and that’s all Deacon gets. He closes the fridge a bit too roughly, and you jump.

“Sorry,” Deacon says quietly.

“’S okay,” you mumble. “How was work?”

“Pretty good. There was a bank robbery in the hills with a bunch of hostages, but other than that it was pretty quiet.”

You nod, not looking in his direction. 

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” he asks gently.

“I’m good,” you answer, sending him a close-lipped smile before sliding a plate in front of him. “Glad work went well.”

A car door closes outside, and you flinch. Deacon knows your shyness inside and out, but this jumpiness seems more related to fear.

“A few of the guys from my team and I are going out to dinner tonight, you should come,” Deacon offers, watching your eyes dart past him.

“Um, I actually have a few things to do tonight, but thank you for the invite,” you decline.

“That's fine,” Deacon says, smiling when you look in his direction again. “But it’s an open invite, so if you change your mind let me know.”

You nod, wiping an invisible stain on the table before you.

“It looks great by the way.”

“What does?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you finally look him in the eye.

“My plant. You have good taste; I never would have considered moving it there.”

Your shoulders fold inward, your body physically shrinking, which scares Deacon. He’s prepared to hold your face in one place to keep your attention and get answers, even though he’d be breaking his promise about abusing your shyness. Someone knocks, and your eyes slam shut as you take a shaky breath.

“I’ll get it,” Deacon offers, tossing his napkin onto the table.

“No, it’s fine,” you whisper, but Deacon raises his eyebrows and points at you, enough of a warning that you fall back into your seat.

He returns a moment later and stops in the doorway, looking at you.

“Pizza delivery had the wrong house.”

“Who orders pizza this early?” you wonder aloud.

Deacon’s lips twitch at the reminder of your usual self. His phone rings, and you turn away quickly, like the sound prefaces something far more dangerous. Deacon focuses on you as he answers, sighing when Hondo asks him to return to the station.

“What are you doing tonight?” Deacon inquires as he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Running errands,” you lie.

“I have to go back to work but call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

You nod and wait for the sound of Deacon’s car to fade before cleaning up the breakfast mess. Deacon usually helps, but when he’s called in, you’re more than happy to do it alone, grateful for the time you spend with him. Today, though, you want to call him, beg him to come back and tell him everything.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Because it’s stupid,” Deacon snaps.

Street’s eyes widen as he raises his hands. “Sorry.”

“What’s up with you?” Hondo asks, not unkind but unwilling to skirt around the fact that something is bothering Deacon and affecting his ability to be part of the team.

Deacon sighs. “My neighbour. She’s not acting like herself, and I think she lied to me about where she was going.”

“Maybe she has a hot date,” Street says before rushing to say, “Kidding.”

Deacon manages a sad chuckle before responding, “I wish that was it. She can be shy, but she's always kind and happy. Today she's been jumpy and scared. Every unexpected sound seemed to terrify her.”

“Wait, sunny neighbour from across the street?” Hondo clarifies. Deacon nods and Hondo asks, “Should we do something?”

“You know her?” Luca asks Hondo.

“I’ve met her twice. She barely talks to me, but that doesn’t sound like her. If something upset her enough to scare her like that and keep her from telling the one person she doesn’t get that shy around, it’s serious.”

“Tell us what to do and we’re on it, Deac,” Street offers.

“I need to know if anyone has contacted her lately,” Deacon begins.

“Phone records?” Luca asks. “We can find out if anyone on the street has security cams, too.”

“It’s a start,” Deacon replies. “Thanks, guys.”

Hondo claps Deacon’s shoulder, nodding a silent promise that they’ll do anything to help.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is silent. The television couldn’t hold your attention, so you switched it off and decided staring into our backyard would be a better idea. Mid-day, there isn’t much to see in terms of suburban Los Angeles wildlife. The wind blows slightly, so you watch the grass, wishing you felt safe enough to sit outside to read or open the window and bake.

Glass shattering pulls you from your daydream and grass-watching. Stepping back from the window, you gauge the distance between yourself, the kitchen knives on the counter, and the nearest exit. Before you can decide which direction to move, someone appears in the doorway, exiting the hall.

A deep chuckle shakes you to your core, and you have to fight to keep your eyes open when he rumbles, “This is how the world ends.”

Deep down, you know it’s a bad idea, but you duck to the side and try to beat him to the door. You’re nearly there, close enough that you can taste freedom when an arm wraps around your waist, your ribs practically creaking as he hauls you backwards.

“No,” you cry, digging your fingers into the forearm pressed against your stomach.

“Yes,” he replies, turning and releasing you quickly so you crash into the edge of your kitchen counter.

Turning toward him, you try to round the corner and grab a knife, but he slips his gloved hand over your cheek and into your hair, pulling it by the roots to tilt your head back. Attempting to scratch his face and impair his vision, you raise to your tiptoes and smack your hand across his face, but the mask he’s wearing harms your hand far worse than you managed to hurt him.

Gasping as a tear rolls over your cheek, he hooks a foot behind your ankles, knocking your legs out from under you as he holds you up by your hair.

“Not with a bang,” he whispers.

“What do you want?” you choke out, tears falling freely at the pain and fear you’re experiencing.

“I want my neighbourhood back,” he growls, “and if everyone here has to go out with a whimper, so be it.”

You want to ask more questions, but he jerks his elbow back before throwing you to the ground. Your shoulder and hip collide with the floor first, followed by the side of your head. Curling in on yourself, you try to find a plan to get out of this situation, but he’s bigger than you, stronger, and comes prepared for a fight.

“You can have the neighbourhood,” you try.

“Not with people like you, and the Duncans, and the cop. This was my turf, my family's ground, and you stole it!”

He uses the heel of his boot to roll you over, stepping on your hip as he follows your movement. Standing above you, with his feet beside your hips, you could try to kick him from behind, but he kneels before you have a chance. Holding your hips down with his knees, he raises his hands to hold either side of your head.

“If I have to come back again, you won’t be so lucky.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember whose land this is,” he whispers before lifting your head.

You fight to resist the movement, but he pulls your neck up before pushing his hands back down forcefully, cracking your head against the floor and silencing everything.

After you lose consciousness, he stands, wipes his hands together and leaves through the broken window he used to enter.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Deacon, we got something,” Street says, approaching with a tablet.

He connects to a larger screen, and a grainy video camera recording appears.

“This is from one of your neighbors’ doorbell cams. We can’t see great, but I think it’s a start.”

The video begins, and a large man carrying an envelope walks by on the sidewalk. He asks a man standing in the driveway which house you live in, thanking him quickly before disappearing.

“He doesn’t appear on any other cameras that night,” Luca adds. “But the next day, your camera caught something, Deac.”

“My camera? It didn’t get anything the first time, but it did the second,” Deacon clarifies. “How did that happen?”

“He probably went a different way or didn’t trigger the motion capture,” Hondo answers, gesturing toward the screen.

Luca plays the video, and a man with a similar build walks to your door, knocking as he leaves a package. It’s fuzzy, but you open the door and the package, obviously not pleased by what you read. The video segment ends, and the camera stops recording until Deacon arrives home.

“Wait, fast-forward,” Deacon requests. “I went to her house that day and someone else showed up.”

Luca navigates to the “pizza man” that Deacon met, and they all look at each other in shock when they notice it’s the same man.

“You’ve seen him, Deac,” Hondo says. “Get to the sketch artist and we’ll start working.”

“And if it’s not quick?”

“We’ll stay as long as you need us, Deacon,” Street promises.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you come to, your head pounds, and you can’t hear anything past your heartbeat in your ears. Lying still, you focus on taking steady breaths and staying calm. It doesn’t work very well because your body wants to panic and fall apart simultaneously. When your hearing returns, you take a minute to ensure everything feels okay. Your fingers, toes, arms and legs move when you want them to, and although you know you probably shouldn’t move your head yet, you sit up.

Breathing through the pain, you take your time standing, pulling yourself up with the counter above you. When you’re upright, and the dizziness fades to a dull ache in the back of your skull, you look around but don’t see your phone anywhere. With no choice and an intense need for Deacon, you leave. His car is gone, but you continue to his door anyway, sitting beside his recently re-potted plant and closing your eyes as you wait.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We just released the sketch to the press and we’re running it through all of our databases,” Hicks says, joining the search for your source of fear.

“She isn’t answering her phone,” Deacon grumbles.

“Go check on her, Deac, we’ll keep you in the loop.”

Deacon nods, rushing to the locker room and gathering his things before leaving, desperate to see you and promise everything will be alright. He pulls into his driveway and turns toward your house, stopping when he hears a short whine behind him. You’re on his porch, slumped against the wall and broken. There’s no blood visible, but bruises are forming along your hairline and over your temples, and your consciousness appears to be fading quickly.

Deacon stoops, using a gentle finger to move your head slowly. You likely have a concussion, but he needs to get you inside, so he moves an arm behind your neck, keeping your head in line with your spine as he carries you into his house. Setting you on the couch, he whispers that he’ll be right back before gathering a first aid kit and a bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel.

“Hey,” he murmurs, watching your eyes flutter open. “You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Where’s it hurt?”

“Ribs. My head.”

Deacon holds your shoulder down to keep you from moving too suddenly. He lays the covered ice over your head before pushing your shirt up to inspect your stomach and ribs. Dark bruises cover most of your skin, and although he can’t see, he’s sure they wrap around your back. A scrape over your belly button makes Deacon think that your assailant was wearing a watch or some other abrasive jewellery. His jaw clenches, holding tight as he surveys your skin with darkened eyes. His hands remain gentle, although his outward calmness is only for your benefit. Taking your hand in his, he applies a cooling antibiotic ointment to the scrapes across your palm before wrapping a bandage around it.

“He told me not to tell you,” you say, your eyes now open and on Deacon. “There were notes and then he broke a window to get in today.”

“Is he still in your house? Around here?” Deacon demands.

“No. He left a while ago.”

“How long have you been waiting?”

You shrug, and the movement that makes you tense in pain. Deacon smooths his hand over your shoulder, attempting to calm you even as his anger and protectiveness swell. He fails to understand how or why someone could do this to you.

He stays in your sight as he applies ointment to your bruises, and Deacon looks angry because he’s fiercely protective. He is just as handsome as usual, if not more so, you think.

“I’m going to get my phone, I’ll be right back,” he tells you.

You nod, a tear slipping past your waterline as he leaves. Everything hurts, and you want to let Deacon hold you, but he’s on a mission.

Deacon texts his team that you’re injured but safe with him. Hondo answers that they’re chasing a few leads, but they’ll keep him updated before reminding him not to leave your sight. You may be too shy to admit it, but you need Deacon now.

Waiting for Deacon, you feel him brush your tears away before you fall asleep. Holding you carefully, Deacon moves you to his bed, sitting at your side all night, an eye trained on the window in case anyone is stupid enough to come for you again. He raises your bandaged hand to his lips, promising to keep you safe.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking, you feel a pillow under your head that wasn’t there before. The sound of water draws your attention as you realise you are in Deacon’s bed. Standing, you groan, stiff, swollen, and bruised, as you enter Deacon’s hallway to find him. His voice greets you before you see him, and you’ve yet to see this side of him.

“Can you make it stick?” Deacon demands. “Because a woman that I care deeply about is covered in bruises and concussed, so he is going to pay for it one way or another. I don't care who bought this land after the Gold Rush.”

You stop in the doorway, sending him a small smile when he notices you.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice softer as he hangs up. He approaches you, offering his hands and chiding, “You shouldn’t be up.”

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you whisper, taking his hands. “Did you find him?”

Deacon nods, leading you to the couch and helping you sit against a large pile of pillows and blankets. “He- apparently his family bought a huge plot of land here, and a few years ago the government seized it to make up for back taxes owed, and this guy isn't happy about all the people living on 'his family's land.' We’ll make sure he gets what he deserves for what he did to you, though. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, one hand still in Deacon’s.

“What do you need?”

“You,” you whisper, looking up at him.

Deacon smiles, sitting beside you and letting you fold into his arms. Your head finds its spot against his shoulder as you take his hand in yours, leaning against him. His arm wraps around your back, mindful of your bruises as he holds you. In his grasp, you are safe and content, and nothing else matters.

“It’s time for more pain medicine,” Deacon reminds you.

“I’m okay right now.”

You nuzzle closer against him, your legs draped over his lap as he kisses your forehead.

“I think he thought we were together,” you admit.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

You lapse into silence, toying with Deacon’s fingers as his hand rubs gently against your side. 

“As if you’d go for me. You’re too pretty,” you say, your voice an addicting mix between shy and sunny.

Part of Deacon wants to drive to the station and question the man who did this himself, but your presence in his arms and your voice remind him where he belongs: with you.

“You’re the pretty one,” he says, the teasing lilt you’ve grown to love lacing each word.

“Even covered in bruises?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“But you are now,” you reply, looking up at Deacon.

“You’re my favourite neighbour.”

“I want to be more,” you say boldly, smiling as Deacon smiles.

“Right now?” he asks, pulling you closer by your hands.

“Right now,” you confirm.

Deacon pulls you into a soft, slow kiss. You may have started as Deacon’s neighbour, but it didn’t take long to realise he is your home. And if your home decides to rough up the man who tried to take you from him, you’ll understand.

[ifancyharry]

Cuddly baby

Cuddling like this with Harry has been a dream of mine since i was like 13 years old 😔 he'd be sooo soft

Word count: 1.3K

What is it: Harry comes back from work and wants needs a cuddle; almost no plot just fluff

YN shut the door behind her, taking a step to enter her and Harry’s home and turning the light’s switch on the side, the previously dark house lighting up in an instant, turning the dark and cold atmosphere into a cozy one. 

She loved their home. 

Growing up YN never really took part in decorating her childhood home, because it was her mum that bought furniture so she went with whatever her mum liked, and when she moved to London, she was a broke college student, so buying fancy furniture wasn’t exactly her priority. 

When Harry had asked her to move in, his house was already decorated, and honestly, YN liked it as it was, but almost immediately, Harry made it clear that was also her house now, and he wanted her to be comfortable in his space, so he gave her his card and told her to buy everything she wanted. 

YN didn’t really know where someone with Harry’s amount of money would go to shop for furniture, so she asked him if he was fine with IKEA and he had agreed, because he didn’t really care as long as she was happy. 

When it came to Christmas decorating, though, it was a whole other deal. 

Harry loved Christmas, and when YN asked him if he wanted her to take care of decorating alone — since he’d come back home on the 15th —, he got a little upset and whined like a baby for the entirety of their call, turning in his usual chatty self only after she’d told him she would wait for him and they’d go Christmas shopping together when he’d be back from Los Angeles.

So, when she walked in their shared living room, YN smiled happily at the sight in front of her, walking towards the Christmas tree to switch on its lights.

She then made her way upstairs, hurrying up the stairs, eager to remove her uncomfortable work clothes to wear something more comfortable.

She walked in her closet and took out one of Harry’s merch hoodie, which ran oversized on her and was honestly so comfy, pairing it with some sweats. YN never really understood people that don’t change immediately after coming home. She cringes at the mere thought of relaxing in jeans. She could never!

After a quick shower to warm her limbs, she changed in the clothes she’d picked out earlier and sighed happily when her skin met with the soft fabric of the hoodie, the scent of the fabric softener Harry always used when doing laundry, filled her nostrils and she felt truly relaxed for the first time ever, the sudden realization that it was the 20th and she finally had some time off of work taking place, soothing her running head. It always took her a while to get accustomed to he holidays, always so busy with work, and she never truly felt free until Harry was free from work too.

He’d just came back less than a week ago, and he still had a couple of interviews and some charity events he was supposed to attend before closing everything on the 24th.

To her, it was truly crazy how someone could work until Christmas Eve, and she told him many times, but he always shrugged it off telling her he was used to it. To YN, it didn’t make it any better.

After picking a book from their office’s bookshelf, she made her way back downstairs, plopping down on the couch. 

She rested her head on the arm rest and scooted down so she could be comfortable enough to stretch her legs and lay down.

She opened her book and started reading to occupy the time it would take Harry to come back home.

-

A couple of hours had passed when YN heard the front door shut softly and the sound of keys tilting in the dish placed by the door. She smiled to herself, not raising her eyes from the book. Harry was finally home.

When he made his way in the living room, he was still wearing his work clothes — just jeans and a sweater, but they were still work clothes to him — but he had removed his shoes. Yn eyed him briefly before tapping the screen of her phone that rested on the coffee table and she frowned at the time, it was past eight o’clock. She knew he must have been exhausted.

“Hey, my love” she whispered, resting her book open on her chest and stretching her arms towards him. 

Harry smiled lazily at her and at first sat down on the couch near her feet, resting one hand on her ankle and thumbing at her exposed skin absentmindedly.

YN knew not to question him. It wasn’t the first time he’d come back from work and didn’t feel like talking, so she usually would let him do his thing until he felt like being social again. She understood how hard it must be to always be expected to be happy and laid back, so she didn’t want him to feel like he had to pretend at home too.

Two beats passed and YN picked up her book again, resuming her reading. 

She felt Harry shuffle in his place at her feet, and after a while she felt him sneaking up her body, resting his smushed cheek against her chest and she opened her legs a bit so he could rest comfortably between them. She intertwined one of her legs with his and Harry sighed heavily against her chest, moving his head so he could splatter light kisses against her covered skin.

YN switched the book from one hand to the other, holding it open with just one hand and burying the other in Harry’s hair, removing the hair clip from his curls and placing it on the hem of her hoodie. Once his hair was free, she started to tug gently at the roots, alternating the tugs with a gentle massage on his scalps with her fingertips.

His body was starting to get warmer, and she loved feeling his body weighting on her. Harry always used to joke that if he could get inside her skin he would, because he never seemed to feel close enough to her.

After some time, YN closed the book, marking the page folding the ear of the page, and placed it on the ground. Harry had fallen asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him stretching to the coffee table, so the ground would do just fine.

She kept playing with his hair with one hand, smoothing the hair from his forehead so she could see his face better. He looked so peaceful with his cheek smashed against her chest, his plushy lips red and slightly opened, small breaths puffing out of his round cheeks.

She loved him like this, soft and tender. She brought her other hand down and started caressing his back in circles, hoping to soothe the tension off of him.

“My baby” she whispered, tilting her head a bit so she could plant a kiss on his hair line.

Harry mumbled something incomprehensible at that and she tugged gently at his hair, “what?” 

“I’ll get up in a bit” he repeated, muttering, his eyes still closed and his words coming out strangled from his squished cheek.

“No need, you’re like my personal teddy bear” she giggled softly, pressing another kiss to his hair line.

“Love you so much” he mumbled, never opening his eyes. He squeezed her a little harder with his arm and she smiled against his hair.

“Sleep now, I’ll wake you when it’s time for bed” 

Harry nodded against her chest and his hair tickled her chin. 

“Love you too, cuddly baby” She whispered, resuming her massages with her hands. Harry was already asleep again, and she knew he probably didn’t hear her, but she knew she’d tell him how much she loved him as soon as he’d wake up. She truly did love him, cuddles and all.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one || part two: with a broken heart

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ When Miguel fell so hard for an anomaly that ended up being another one of his canon events; a soulmate.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ fluff, angst?, reader is a hot Hispanic sunshine, plot twist at the end, age gap? (How old is Miguel?, like 28, early 30's?, reader is like 20 not specified) I'm 19, so in my head reader is 20, fuck it <3.

𝐀𝐍_ hellooo, this is my Ist fic for this fandom, I've been trying to hide this crush for weeks, I can't anymore.

♪ ♫ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙎𝙏 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙟𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖.

<3,𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙭 (+fics)

_________________

[ 2 months before the events of SPIDERMAN: ATSV]...

Nothing is perfect; nothing can be that special. But somehow, you ended up being that, or at least almost.

Because this is how everything starts; you were stressing out for college sophomore year finals when in the middle of your room, a portal opened and absorbed you.

Sounds incredibly ridiculous and cringe... Right?. Well, it's about to get worse.

The portal only left you there, hanging between random universes. There you are seeing how your shoes fly away and your hair is tangling like crazy, and out of nowhere, a spider that seemed like it was made of silver bit you. And seconds later, you were back at home stressing over the finals.

Yeah, you didn't think it would be a problem, only that it increased your phobia of spiders. Later, you accepted that Los Angeles would have an arachnid vigilante.

Yeah, Los Angeles. No shit, you wouldn't fly to save New York in your universe just to fit the stereotype. Besides, they already had one. One who died and then the most significant and original anomaly, Miles Morales.

That's for later, by the way.

You had your suspicions of the existence of the multiverse but no curiosity. You only cared about your sacred home and, to be more specific, your friends and family.

So it goes; you were a spider-woman with sassy webs and fantastic hair, saving people from the crime on Skid Row, abusive elites in Downtown, corruption in Glendale, etc etc.

Your family didn't knew about it, nor friends. Social media gave you a cool but weird surname; Aragmatica.

So you had everything; no pressure from being the spider-woman Aragmatica, wonderful friends, and family. A transcription remote job and a firm college pathway to be a writer and teacher. Though, you would be lying if you said you didn't want to meet the Spiderman from New York. Your abilities were barely used, so the news about your existence were remotely passed by. That's why you were completely fine with it, you had everything.

Except for one thing; love.

You didn't have anyone to hold, anyone who made you laugh. Someone who made you feel the scarlet blush and raced heartbeats. Thus, Why would you care for that? You were so young and you didn't need that commitment yet.

Finally, your official transcript from that year was carefully sealed in an envelope. Summer break was yours, starting with a good ballet class.

Your spider senses weren't fully developed because you never saw 4 pair of eyes watching you.

The class was fun, though. All the music was from the most famous plays, and having the opportunity to wear a tutu was always accepted.

You didn't care coming out of the building wearing it after the friendly teacher gifted you the fluffy piece of clothing.

You also didn't care to sing slightly aloud as you walked towards your car.

And that's when 4 individuals interfered with your way; Peter B. Parker, Hobie Brown, and Gwen Stacy.

"Uh... nice cosplays. But the Comic-Con is more to the south. In San Diego..." They looked at each other. Only the older guy stepped further, laughing.

"Oh, you're funny. There's also one in my universe, but it's celebrated in Coney Island and-" only that Gwen pinched him. The older man frowned.

"She's leaving, Peter," Gwen said.

"Hey! Wait!" Peter stopped you from closing your car door, and you looked more confused than ever.

"Dude, back off. There must be kids near us. You don't want to do this..." Hobie giggled. He had remained leaning against a mailbox during the whole interaction.

"What? No-, I-. We need to talk to you... we're also spider people" Rolling your eyes, you just rested your head on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, your suits are too good to be a cosplay. I like your pointe shoes though" Gwen blushed but said thank you for your flattery.

"I'm Peter B. Parker. The guy with the cool outfit that's Hobie Brown. And the girl with the pointe shoes you liked is Gwen Stacy" They looked lovely. Hobie and Gwen, probably your age, but you were running late for dinner. You had to drop the transcript for validation in early registration for admissions to transfer.

You didn't have time for this "Have you heard of the Avengers initiative?" Type of moment.

The best you could do was politely turn them down. But they were already inside your car.

"Hey!. Okay, if this is some spider intervention, I don't have time to travel between universes and that stuff" Hobie started playing your radio. Again, you rolled your eyes.

"This is good music, girl. Nice.." he said, making you smile a little. He seemed nicer.

"Thanks, but." Then Gwen interrupted you.

"You could be dangerous or cause a massive disaster for canon. You are a rare case between spiders" For the first time, you were quiet. Maybe that omen was this, that not everything could be perfect.

"You felt it...." Peter said because your silence was loud enough to tell him.

"You knew about us then?"

"The multiverse and variations are not a thrill in this universe, but I wasn't expecting this on a random Friday afternoon. Besides that, Why don’t you go and ask the famous Spiderman from this earth? " you explained and questioned. They all exchanged looks, which makes you grow curious, but you ignore it of course.

"That Spiderman is not our problem right now. Our boss wants to meet you. We need to know what type of anomaly you are" They all heard you sighing. You had too many questions but also tired, so you wouldn't be annoyingly asking them millions of questions.

"Okay." Peter shrugged in disbelief.

"That's it?. No questions?" Gwen passed you a blue band, probably to travel between universes.

"Not energetic nor annoying. Miguel will like her," Hobie stated, comfortable in the passenger seat.

"Just don't smile too much, avoid questions, and you'll be fine" Humming in agreement, you waited.

A portal of bright colors and blinding flashes appeared seconds later from your car's windshield. It was different from what you expected. In the movies looked easier.

"Okay, here we go..." Peter announced. And with fast blood pressure, you followed them.

It was a prolonged free fall and the twists in your stomach were getting painfully evident. What seemed to last a minutes was actually a second, and you had no time to land properly.

The first thing you felt was the urge to complain on the ground. Laying on your stomach, with your hair in a now disheveled bun.

Everyone turned to look at you, finally noticing you were wearing a tutu and leotard in grey and black colors.

"Lost your hoodie?" Gwen asked, being the first to start giggling, followed by the others.

"Could any of you have alerted me to prepare for this type of landing?" You asked no one in particular. Then you analyzed Gwen's question.

"MY hoodie!. Damnit, it was new!" And that's how you lost 75 dollars. But soon, you stopped thinking about the new tour merch you lost.

It was a bright earth, futuristic and agitated. And as soon as you entered the giant building, you noticed it was full of spider people.

From any size to any color, but... no one was similar to you. Well, you didn't have a suit yet, but... you couldn't feel a spider sense with anyone. Well, you could, since the place was full of spiders people, but there's an specific tingle that lets you know when you share similar abilities or DNA with other spiders.

"Surprised?" Gwen asked, walking by your side.

"Well. I'd rather say disturbed," she giggled.

"You're unlike any spider I've met," the blonde added.

"Oh please, I can't be that special." Bored or not, you were missing dinner. Your family would be worried if you didn't come back past midnight. Hopefully, your first interaction with another universe will be quick.

"Oh, but you are. That's why you're here..." said a new voice. When you turned, you were even more confused.

A pregnant spider-woman?. Could you feel any weirder?.

"Uhh- Hi...I'm y/n, this is the weirdest day of my life" She nodded laughing. Her yellow glasses were very cool, you liked her look in general.

"We know that. But let's go, Miguel needs to see you..." and officially, that was the beginning of everything.

The HQ was futuristic, wide and full of people. Everything was so weird that edged being ridiculous. Until, the group of spiders lead you to a dark room. Full of technology and chemistry stuff.

For the first time, you felt a tingle when he finally faced you; Miguel O'Hara. And to be honest, his broad and tall figure intimidated you.

He said you were a bizarre anomaly. You were the only spider person who had been bitten between universes. Meaning that you were an accident. While there must be variants of you, none of them were spiders, nobody was like you.

Unconsciously, your own canon was building up as every day passed, like a plague. Any of your actions were vital for everyone. One bad movement and everything could go to hell.

He offered you a place in the group to keep order among universes. Suspicious, but seemed honest at the same time.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have a degree to finish. And I got enrolled for summer ballet classes..." you said, ambling towards the exit. The man sighed, not ready to deal with another extroverted spider like most of his coworkers.

"No. You need to be a responsible spiderwoman and do what you're expected to do," the man said, intimidating you more as he towered you. Beside getting lost in his amazing hair, intriguing brown eyes and sharp jaw, your thoughts were running. Maybe you were being selfish. Most of the people in the room had lost a lot and you hadn't. This was the least you could do.

"You just said I'm an accident. There are no expectations from me. I can't break canon. I'm making my own, What could go wrong?..." you dared to say, avoiding looking into his brown eyes.

"You want to find out?" a little closer, and you would touch his chest. Besides, the tingle was back. Miguel also felt it, but he called it on you being angered by this new phase you would enter.

You knew he was going to be hard to deal with from now on. But deep inside, you liked the feeling he had planted on your stomach.

"No.." you admitted. Slightly afraid of losing what you had. He smiled but for less than a second.

"That's what I thought" After that, it was history.

Two months. And things were... okay.

You made a great friendship with Peter and Hobie. Something inside you was stopping you from trusting Gwen at all.

Then, Jessica was good but slightly challenging. Even Pavitr was good.

And then, there was Miguel.

Fucking Miguel O'Hara. He was dead serious every time. Still, you refused to show he could intimidate you.

Like right now, or... at any moment, whatever.

"He's going to kill you..." Lyla whispered, moving in circles around you.

"He won't if someone doesn't tell him" she frowned.

"He's going to kill us both, y/n," she almost yelled. Following you to the briefing of a new case.

"He can't kill you, Lyla. Be serious..." you stated, shrugging.

"I don't want to know..."

"Me neither. So just shush..." The room was almost empty. Only Peter, Hobie, and Jessica were inside.

The sound of the door captured everyone's attention

"Shoot" you said, looking at Miguel who sighed. After that, he stopped talking.

"You're late..." Of course, he would remark on your irresponsibility.

"I had a dentist appointment. What can I say?" he rolled his eyes and indicated you sit down.

"Sorry, I won't come late again would be fine" Miguel scolded you, and then kept giving instructions.

Earth-238, neon venom, evacuated civilians, blah blah blah. The mission would be easy, and you'd be leaving the room.

"Okay, everyone... gone, now" Jess finalizes.

"Not you, y/n..." Miguel's voice caught you off guard. When you turned around, Lyla was still whispering to him.

"Bitch..." you whispered.

"Hey, I'll wait for you," Hobie said, indicating that he would wait outside the room.

You nodded at him, smiling as he left.

"Why did you send the evidence of last week's mission to Jessica instead of me?" He asked, arms crossed.

"She's also my boss," you admitted, avoiding his judgemental brows and gaze.

"I'm in charge. She's second in command. So?..." you pinched the bridge of your nose, anxiety creeping over.

"I-.." It was useless; you had to be honest.

"Because uh-, I didn't want you to see the anomaly recording" he was right. He knew you would be afraid of his reaction. Something inside switched to be softer.

"I almost fail to save that girl. It was an accident, but... I can't control this new ability. And I want to do a good job" Your anxiety was evident. Miguel had to suppress a smile.

"You have a big responsibility on your shoulders. The power to retain or doom canon" a lecture was coming. And you wished he wore his mask because you could see his whole features. Making it prone to capture any negativity from him.

"And that's why you must be on missions with me, not Jessica. I'm training you, not her" To be honest, you were surprised.

"You make me nervous all the time. I'm afraid I'll make something stupid on any of these days, and you'll send me home. My life is so boring..." He kind of chuckled, and it made you beyond surprised.

"I thought you were working on the English degree and summer ballet classes."

"You remember it?" Could your heart beat any faster?. His eyes were deep-fixed on yours, and it was killing you in a good way.

"Please stop giving me that look. I'm gonna piss myself off from nervousness."

"Don't think too much about it. You're doing good, kid" The pat on your shoulder made you explode.

Right there, you knew it was over. You had a crush on Miguel O'Hara.

Was it possible to see everything in pink shades and heart sprinkles? That's how you were looking at every universe. You were starting your lover era.

"PETER! PETER!" You yelled, running towards the man, heading out of the cafeteria. Most spider people on the headquarters looked at you, but you didn't care.

"Woah, calm down, girl," he said with a smile.

"I need to tell you something" he couldn't describe your excitement but happily took your hand when you pushed him inside an empty conference room.

"I have a crush on Miguel," you said with an evident blush.

"YOU WHAT?" He asked yelling.

"I know, I know. But... he's so sweet to me. He said I shouldn't be nervous about him and that I was doing good. He remembers my career and that I'm doing ballet classes. Oh, and today he opened the door for me TWICE!" You explain excited, pinching your suit. It was half synthetic and half like the one from Miguel. In navy colors and silver details. You loved your suit.

"This is insane. Are you insane, y/n?. We're talking about Miguel. Our grumpy and snarky boss that gets stressed over the tiniest detail and doesn't know how to smile" You nodded, rolling your eyes.

"It's not like he's the love of my life or destiny, Peter. It's just a crush...." you tried to convince yourself.

"No, no, no. I disapprove of this. Isn't he a little older for you?" You sighed.

"Oh, c'mon. MJ is younger than you, Mr. No age gap"

"This is serious, y/n. I've known Miguel for a long time. You know what happened to him. I don't think he's emotionally ready for this" he was right. But you were confident that this crush wouldn't be a big issue.

"I know. The least I want to do is hurt him. But once again, it's just a crush, Peter," you started coming out of the room. And, like a big coincidence, Miguel was walking through the hallway with Lyla talking to him.

"Hey, is it okay if I go to your office at lunchtime?" you asked the broad man once he was walking near you. He had his mask, that if you stared too long, it was a severe and scary gaze, but he nodded once. Neither you nor Peter noticed Miguel was actually looking at you. Causing him to feel a weird pricking.

"Sure," with that, he left with the female AI giving you a bad look.

"What?" Peter asked in disbelief once again.

"See? Nothing to worry about, love," you said.

...

In your Hispanic household, dinner was very important. And the one you missed two months ago was an issue that your family hardly let go.

"Don't be so late, corazón." your grandma told you from the kitchen. You entered the room being greeted by the smell of mole and ponche.

"With this food waiting for me, I will return in a second, abuelita," she giggled as you kissed her cheek.

"I'm just going for a stretch. And maybe a flan for dinner" Your favorite part of the day was starting. So happily, you left the house. AirPods on with your favorite music blasting through them, and it felt like heaven.

Swinging from palms to buildings and watching the crowds of the traffic of LA. Until you were in the Fashion District Downtown. You stopped at your favorite rooftop to see the last minutes of the West Coast sunset.

And it was beautiful. Orange, pink, yellow, purple, blue, and black. Like a firework evaporated in the sky.

The air feels perfect for taking a long breath, and you feel thankful for having a good day.

"Hey." you nearly fell from the building, but a well-known bright red web caught you in time.

When you turned around, you had Miguel watching you.

"Miguel?. What are you doing here?" The surprise and shock were eating you alive. Maybe an emergency happened, or he would get you banned from the Spider Society. Who knows?

"Just checking on you..." lately, he had been more close to you. Giving you a hand on missions, being willing to have more extended conversations, and softer pieces of advice.

"Why?" You ask, arching a brow.

"Last week, you were a little slow." he hears you giggling, and as he walks closer, he sees you hanging your toes on the edge. He sees your hair freely fly as you laugh. Cute, he thinks.

"I was on my period. We're good now..." he thanked, wearing the mask because his cheeks were burning.

"Don't be silly, Miguel. It's... normal," you said after he stood there quietly.

"Come, seat with me.." he obeyed, establishing some distance with you, but not too much.

Then he deactivated his mask, and you confirmed that his hair always looked gorgeous.

"Your universe is interesting," he said finally.

"We are very fixed; little surprises us. And capitalism is leading us to ruin, but yes... it's interesting" Miguel wasn't expecting that answer but smiled. Only because you didn't catch it.

"You are spending too much time with Hobie," you laughed, nodding.

"Yeah, I'll take that.." This time, you noticed his smile. And you wanted to keep the moment a little longer.

"Can we talk?"

"We are talking, y/n..." he let out a brief chuckle again.

"No, I know, but, like seriously...I'm afraid. Of hurting someone in the process of creating a disaster with this thing of being an anomaly" For weeks, you tried to avoid the thoughts of insecurity. But this was a good moment because Miguel had been training you, and he was the right and worst person to talk about this.

"And it frustrates me that I don't completely understand at all what am I..." you said, covering your face, letting all the intrusive thoughts out. Because even on a good day, anxiety could sneak in.

"Being a spider person means being afraid of many things. There's never complete peace. We live alert day by day. Keep in mind that you'll constantly worry, but it's part of the job. You don't sign for it; it just hits you" his words were profound. Enough to soothe some of your panic.

"I wish I could be straight to the point like you..." Miguel was urged to touch your hand or strands of hair that brushed his forearm. But he resisted, only looking at your profile.

"No. It's good to be honest and worry too."

"And you're something bigger than an anomaly. You're special" Maybe his tone made everything sound softer.

"Well, I don't feel special," you admitted.

"I feel like an accident. Not meant to be here, but nothing else to do."

"You don't need to feel it. I just see it..." when you turned to look at him, it was his soft look that made you realize, you were falling in love with him.

As your smile grew, Miguel completely ignored any thought of fear. He was just feeling, letting his heart warm and reciprocate your smile.

"You have to come and have dinner with my family and me," you blurted excitedly, changing the subject.

"No."

"SI!."

"Por Dios. No, y/n!" He said, rolling his eyes.

"They're not annoying or nosy, I promise," you pleaded. He knew there was no problem because your family thought you were in a new program in college. That was your lie to disguise your time with him and the team. Either way, Hispanic families could be nosy when a girl arrived home with a man.

"Please, as a thank you for listening to my bullshit. Por favor, ándale. Di que si..." he couldn't say no. He didn't want to reject you.

"Está bien, pues....'

He smiled again, watching you celebrate as you started balancing between buildings. Soon he followed you, happy to feel the way he was doing, and completely ignoring what he preached to keep canon safe.

...

The shock on everyone's faces only increased the more you talked.

Pavitr, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter had their mouths open.

"And then, we went to get a flan for dinner. A kid asked for a selfie with us, and it was so silly," you narrated.

"When we arrived home, he was so sweet. Only speaking Spanish, and he told mi abuelita I was doing great in job" Peter decided it was time to cover his mouth with one hand. Soon, everyone followed, keeping their shock.

"Dad was slightly judgmental but soon changed his mind because Miguel accepted a beer from him."

"Oh, and we spent hours in my room" That was enough for Peter.

"WHAT?... EXCUSE ME?"

"NO, PETER!. Jesus... we spent hours in my room because I was explaining to him some of my analysis from literature classes" The color returned to his face.

Nodded understanding, and everyone else laughed.

"I can't believe this. I simply can't..." Pavitr confessed.

"Love can come in strange ways..."

"Who's talking of love, Pavitr?" Hobie asked playfully.

"Well.." you whispered.

"What else?" Gwen almost jumped, needing to know more. You were starting to like her more. So you started narrating the flashback.

Once again, both of you were back on a rooftop. It was almost 2:00am.

"I-, I liked this..." Miguel managed to say. Looking down at you, trying to regain his neutral and serious tone and look. But after spending hours with you, it seemed impossible.

"Me too. You were so caring, and thank you for being so comprehensive" Your excitement match your words, not that Miguel cared. But he realized you had jumped and grabbed both of his hands. And before you pulled away, he was caressing your knuckles.

"It was nothing..."

"Are you coming tomorrow?" He asked, ignoring the way he always tells everyone he doesn't like touching or any type of contact.

"I think I stopped being a half-time employee some time ago..." he nodded, smiling.

"True."

Hands were still holding. And none of you wanted to break the touch.

"Till tomorrow then..." you said, sad to break the touch but happy for everything that happened that night.

And with that, you saw Miguel opening a portal, and you left.

"NO - FUCKING - WAY!" Gwen yelled.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming while drunk?"

"No, Peter. I can't drink yet" he snorted as if he had heard something incredible. Gwen couldn't stop looking lost, taking time to digest the information, Pavitr too, and Hobie was... being Hobie.

"Dude looks nice with her. I heard him laugh the other day," Hobie stated.

"Me too. And he canceled a meeting to go and train her," Pavitr added.

"He's, like, the last person I imagined you would say you had a date with."

"It wasn't a date..." you said.

"IT WASN'T A DATE?. Girl, he had dinner with your family, listened to your boring old books for hours, and held your hands for... five or eight minutes?"

"Okay. maybe it unconsciously turned into a date." They all nodded in agreement.

"Oh, my god... Was it a date?"

Peter sighed as he watched you laugh with Hobie. Soon went straight towards Miguel's lair. The man greeted him with a silent wave, before returning to look at all of the recordings and screens playing them.

".. y/n is very happy. Did you two have fun last night?" He asked Miguel once stepped further.

"I'm not discussing this with you," the broad man approached to say.

Peter loved you like family. He wanted you to be happy and safe.

He trusted Miguel after knowing each other. But he wasn't sure if you two had a bright future. After all, Peter saw how Miguel changed so much after losing Gabriella.

"I don't want to discuss this with you either."

"So?"

"Look, she's like family. You are like family too. I want her to be happy. And you too, man. But... I want you to think... Is it correct?" Miguel stopped looking at the screens.

"We can't lose her. And I don't want to see another era of pain and collapse" It hit him.

What was he thinking? Letting all of his feelings take over him. He couldn't be in love; it wasn't meant for him.

Your canon was unsure, delicate. And his... was doomed. He imagined having to see you gone, and he wasn't ready to find out. He wasn't ready to go through that pain again. And he didn't want to see you in pain.

"Just think... because maybe it's meant to be, but-"

"No. You're right..." Miguel accepted.

Peter grew quiet.

"After y/n leaves tonight. Call the others, except Hobie..." Peter nodded unsure, wondering what was Miguel plotting.

Miguel made a decision. Losing you was going to save both of you. Or so he thought.

...

Weird.

The cafeteria was quiet.

Then a piece of your suit ripped off.

And spider-cat was absent!!!

Then, you didn't see Miguel the day before. When you asked Lyla, she said he was swamped with his job, so you would not make him stressed. Plus, having some space after spending the night together would be great.

"Hey!" You called Hobie when he sat next to you on a bench. He was used to visiting you in your universe. He liked the food and how the people complained about something new daily.

"Something feels weird," he blurted, tilting his head.

"RIGHT?. I thought I was the only one" he nodded and sighed. That was also weird; Hobie never hesitated to spit the words out.

"What?"

"Yesterday. After you left, Peter called everyone except for me. It seemed weird that just as you left, he called everyone to get a lecture from Miguel," Another weird thing. Why you and Hobie would be excluded? Well, he rarely followed rules, but he was always included in briefings.

"Miguel stopped wasting his time with me, But a meeting without you?" Maybe it wasn't anything. Perhaps a simple meeting. There had been some occasions where you had not been present.

"Do you wanna go out and ignore why we were excluded?" you asked playfully. He nodded with a cocky smile.

"Hell yeah..." Both of you left in seconds.

Spending time with Spider-punk was always fun. Hobie made you remember things like; fuck it, just do it.

But for the first hour, you didn't find anyone. Even when the headquarters of the Spider Society were big, you thought it would have been easier.

By the evening, you find yourself eating an empanada, thinking of Miguel. Accepting you started missing him.

"Guys!.." Gwen called you and Hobie, appearing from an elevator that had opened.

"Don't ask anything yet..." you nodded to him.

"We were busy being scolded by Miguel. But there's a new mission we need to go to. And he wants us all, let's go..." Hobie and you exchanged looks, not buying Gwen's words.

You got too carried away, forming possible explanations for her weird behavior. Why you hadn't seen your friends the day before?. And why you and Hobie were excluded from the last meeting?.

When you follow Gwen, you didn't even look at Pavitr taking Hobie away.

As soon as you entered the room, Jessica, Peter, and Miguel were inside.

"Where's Hobie?" Miguel asked. You also turn confused, because he was right behind you.

"He was right here..." Gwen mumbled, looking around, making Miguel sigh tired.

He didn't look at you for the first minutes of the debriefing. The more he ignored your presence, the more your questions emerged.

"Everyone get ready... except for y/n," he announced with his neutral and cold face.

"Why?"

"You're going home."

"WHAT?" you screamed.

At the end of the day, Miguel wasn't ready for this. But he was doing his best, even if it meant lying to you.

"Your canon is changing, constantly glitching. We can't risk anything happening. I'm sending you home..." he explained like nothing.

"No, please. I'm not a danger. If it was something bad, it would've happened already" he kept looking straight at the doors, not even moving.

It hurt you that he was still unsure of you, especially after everything he said in your home.

"It's for the best."

"Can we talk... In private?" You whispered, taking his forearm. He slowly moved away, making you feel the pain grow.

"There's nothing to talk about"

"Oh really?. I think we do. What about the other day?"

"It wasn't a coincidence that you appeared after someone tried opening portals in your earth," you gasped in shock.

"I did recruit you for the sake of the  Spider Society. I needed to know you were not a threat."

"You said I was special" he managed to hear you whisper. And it was tearing him.

"You are. But a potential danger too. Which is why l'm sending you home.." you shake your head, fighting the tears rapidly forming in your eyes.

"All of you knew about this?" You asked, looking at Peter, Gwen, and Jessica.

The pregnant woman bowed her head while Gwen looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"We do this because we care for and want to protect you..."

"Really? This is not what friends do. All you do is lie and lie to me!" you said with a broken voice.

"I'm sorry," Miguel admitted looking down.

"GOD, STOP LYING" you yelled.

"Tell me I meant nothing to you. Or admit you might be scared of the possibility of falling in love with me..."

"There is no love in this equation. You have made all of this in your head." he broke you. You swore you heard your heart decreasing its heartbeats.

"For one minute, I thought you... felt the same, that you cared" As he stood there quietly, you started crying.

To everyone's shock, it was the first time they saw you crying. Gwen tried to reach you, but you stepped back, moving away from all of them.

At the same time, Pavitr and Hobie entered the room.

"Something weird happened. You might want to see this, boss," Pavitr announced.

"It was dope..." Hobie admitted leaning on the door frame. But stood quiet after watching you crying.

The moment turned uneasy, debating whether to go or stay with you.

"Please, let's go, and then we'll talk with tranquility about this," Peter told you. Giving a look that he wasn't happy with seeing you cry.

Slowly, you followed them. Ignoring Miguel's look.

Then you thought, What was the point of following them? If they would send you home after that?.

Anger wasn't a good feeling, but it was blinding you. All the fantastic facade they sold of being good friends. The months Miguel lied to you. He could have done it differently. But he even dared to agree to have dinner with your family.

He held your hands and made you believe there was a chance. He made you believe you weren't dangerous, that you could be in control of your fate.

So you stopped following them and turned to the lower plant of the building, deciding to that you would choose  what you wanted, not what they thought it was correct.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group watched how all of the canon was held together. Until your specific web was expanded.

Your web was tiny, like a baby's. It glitched a lot, but when Miguel entered with the others, he noticed the glitch was even more aggressive than ever.

There were only two canon moments; you getting bit and joining the Spider Society. But there were new ones forming. And from the shiny dot, a new line grew.

"What the hell?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"This isn't possible..." Jess whispered.

Lyla was following your web and paying attention. Until she saw the first new canon event. You would lose your best friend, and the time was quickly coming. Gwen lowered her head, lamenting for what you would suffer, just like her.

But then, your thread started moving and growing until it was connected to another one: Miguel's.

And from that connection, a new canon event was officially established.

You and Miguel together.

"Holy sh-" Gwen almost said but couldn't finish the sentence.

"Does this mean..." Jessica started.

"She's part of your canon," Peter confirmed.

Miguel was in shock; his eyes remained on what the model displayed. Your masked figured siding his. You were really meant for him. He hadn't need to worry about it ending in disaster. Still, it didn't soothe him.

"Uh-boss? Our pretty little y/n started a countdown to return home and temporarily block the entrance to her earth," Lyla announced, appearing beside Miguel.

He turned to look at her, worried.

"What?"

"I tried stopping her, but I believe she's growing her cosmic powers?" the day couldn't get more complicated for Spider-Man 2099.

"Cosmic powers?" Peter asked, running after Miguel, who started heading towards the exit.

Lyla, crossed her arms looking at everyone starting running. She couldn't admit it to anyone. That if your issue wasn't fixed, something darker could happen.

The Al couldn't throw salt in Miguel's wound.

"Jessica, send help. Lyla, stop her," he demanded. Jessica nodded, and Lyla disappeared.

"There's no spider with cosmic powers. But y/n was a bit between universes. So maybe she has some of them or..."

"Peter shut up!. I just can't lose her!" If you were Miguel's destiny, he would do things right. And he regretted setting up all of the secret meetings and lies.

He rushed to get to you faster than anyone. He wasn't even sure the blocking earth thing worked.

Maybe he was exaggerating, but he was willing to set the alarms so everyone would try to stop him.

If he had waited a day, none of this would've happened. But he had understood once that things happened for a reason; canon.

So as fast as he was running, something inside told him it was already late.

Peter and Gwen followed close to him, ready to find you prepared to leave.

The panic finally settled when they entered the dark room, and you were already behind the colorful barrier.

"NO!. Please, y/n" You turned to hear Miguel's voice calling you.

Your look was empty, but the anger was there. He kept calling for you, but you didn't say a word.

All of you wanted was to leave. Sleep and forget you were a spiderwoman. Ease the pain of your broken heart. And accept that no matter if you were the only variant of yourself in all the universes, you were meant to choose your own destiny.

You bolted, when he had you face to face, you were gone.

Confused, you appeared on a random street in Downtown LA. Your suit was ripped, your hair was a mess, and the tears didn't seem to stop. A wave of cold air hit you, making you shiver and hug yourself.

Feeling broken and in shock, you found yourself stepping on a broken glass bottle. Your left foot instantly started bleeding, making you fall to your knees.

That's when you no longer held the tears; you just let all the sobs take over.

You shouldn't have accepted to join the Spider Society; you shouldn't have pushed your crush for Miguel.

I hate this. I hate this. God, I hate this...

With no more strength, you stood up. And tottering, you started walking towards home.

It was okay; it would be okay.

________________________

Cringe in general? Maybe… part two?

[jwnzlvr]

enhypen as jjk characters

warnings : slightly nsfw in some parts (mdni), this is a word dump nothing makes sense, not proofread, i love nanami. i love jay. i love nanami and jay.

notes : as you can see with this list, i have nothing better to do. please send requests and give me something to actually write. also if you are offended by my comparison of engenes and sukuna towards the end, im sorry but you might wanna analyze urself a little. like if the shoe fits... enjoy yall.

yang jungwon as fushiguro megumi

aside from the fact that i think megumi would look a bit like jungwon if he were real, they have very similar attitudes. you can’t tell me he wouldn’t punch someone if they got irritating. also megumi beating up all those bullies in middle school, that’s jungwon behavior. he didn’t beat up a bully but he showed them their place! they’ve both got strong moral compasses and are very mature for their age (due to events early on in life, my poor boys.)

lee heeseung as gojo satoru 

… MANWHORE. (sorry, love u hee.) i don’t really see heeseung as someone happy-go-lucky like gojo, but i think their confidence is basically the same. the same way gojo knows who he is and acts the part, heeseung is the same. he knows who he is and he’s definitely going to let you know. it’s honestly an admirable trait of theirs for me. also, hee would probably say some shit like “nah, i’d win.”

park jongseong as nanami kento

are you kidding me. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. they are the same damn person i don’t care. we all know jay is irritable (jokingly, i think) but he’s also extremely patient, just like nanami. i feel like nanami’s technique also matches with jay. he’s a smart man, of course he’d have a technique involving ratios and math and all that smart shit. they both carry themselves w confidence. they also radiate big dick energy…

sim jaeyun as ino takuma

it’s just vibes with these two. would jake wear a shiesty to fight cursed spirits? yes, yes he would! but back to the vibes, everytime i see ino i have california love play in my head. with jake, that matches him. jake is such a california boy along with ino. no i don’t care that jake’s from australia. if i say he’s from los angeles, he is from los angeles. i think the main thing here is that both jake and ino are sweethearts but if they wanted me to get on my knees and beg for them, i would.

park sunghoon as inumaki toge

in the wise words of ash, “few words but a big dick.” both are very quiet and always seem to be in their own world. also, you can’t tell me sunghoon wouldn’t be like “salmon” just to communicate. they’re kinda the “underrated” people of the friend group, the true introverts. i love them both so much though they’re so cute.

kim sunoo as kugisaki nobara

“oh rica, you can’t just compare everyone else to a man and then go and compare sunoo to a female character.” YES THE FUCK I CAN. the sassy man apocalypse is real and sunoo is the leader of them all. most definitely acts like nobara. he does NOT put up with anyone’s shit, much less the shit of a man. i think he’s also a little insane just like nobara and we love that about him!!! he loves cute things like pastries and cafes the same way nobara does. like that’s twin.

nishimura riki as itadori yuji

SWEETHEARTS. THE MOST ADORABLE BOYS. i think their determination is similar, with yuji and riki doing anything they can to help others, ignoring how they’re feeling. they’re so selfless yet they still carry a certain joy with them. that is, until people come and ruin it (engenes r sukuna with the way they fucked riki over.) and just take away that happiness. they both deserve the world, my best boys <3

pls send requests or asks i’m so BORED.

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 9: care to dance~

Alastor x (f! bunny reader)

your POV:

walking out of my room I head to the table taking a seat, Charlie and Alastor have something they want to announce, as Charlie runs downstairs Alastor comes out of the kitchen holding a plate of Beignets and hands them out to everyone, I heard of them but never tried one. "alright everybody I'm so sorry to wake you all up early but me and Al had an idea!" "I and Charlie decided that-" "We decided that we should throw a party here at the hotel to gain some patrons and you all are invited!!!" "you gotta be fucken with me..." husk grumbles "I could~" Leaning over the table Angel strokes husks chest as Husk pushes him off "Go fuck yourself" "That sounds wonderful hun," vaggie says trying to calm Charlie down. "A party?" "yes, a partyyy!!" "Charlie would like-" "I would like for" Cutting Charlie off Alastor stuffs a Beignet in Charlie's mouth "As I was saying Charlie would like for you all to help clean the lobby and decorate" "cleannnn!!!!! I love cleaning...." niffty giggled creepily. Charlie nods as she finishes the Beignet "well dress up and dance and celebrate!!!!" "that doesn't sound too bad" "Yes yes yes, we have a lot to work on so let's get started"

everyone stood up to gather cleaning supplies, and we spent the whole day cleaning. nifty ran around dusting and killing bugs, husk cleaned the drinking glasses while Angel went to buy food and more alcohol. Charlie and Vaggie went upstairs to the old storage room and grabbed whatever leftover decorations, and Alastor summoned these weird shadowy minions to fix the place up and move the furniture around to create a dance floor. 

Once Angel came back we set up the food table, restocked the drinks, and wiped everything down one last time before dragging all the girls upstairs to Angel's room to get ready. "Let go husk my, dear friend, we need to get you in tip-top shape, you're our bartender after all!" "Whatever..." 

At Angels Room Charlie, vaggie, niffty, and I had our dresses laid out. Charlie and vaggie picked black and white themed dresses to match. Angel picked a hot pink maxi dress that sparkled with an off-the-shoulder neckline, Niffty picked a little light pink cocktail dress with white lace around the bottom, and lastly, I had decided on a black red short flowy dress.

Alastors POV:

as I watched the ladies run upstairs I took Husker up to my room to get him ready. "you don't have anything to wear do you?" "No, does it look like I give a shit what I wear!" "Hmm, fear not my friend I know just what to put you in" With a mischievous smile I snap my fingers causing a line of green smoke to twirl around Husk, changing him into a Black and white suit with yellow cuffs and a yellow bow tie. "is this some kind of joke..." "doesn't it bring you back to old times~" I chuckle as husk leaves the room with a groan. another snap of my fingers and I change into my best condition red suit and black slacks topped with my brand new dress shoes. combing my hair and tying my black bow tie, I finish and head downstairs seeing the girls already in the lobby talking and giggling.

your POV:

listening to Charlie talk, I turned my attention to Alastor walking down, he had the same suit but somehow looked even better, Charlie rushed over to open the doors for people to join the party as vaggie turned on the music, with time the place was filled with demons, the bar was packed and the food table was swarmed.

sitting at the bar I grab a glass of Champaign talking to Angel "So uh you and smiles?" "what about us," I say trying to hide a grin "Oh come on ya guys have been extra close, he looks at everyone like he wants to tear them to shreds! but not you~" "And your point is" "I think dark and creepy likes ya" I shake my head and chuckle "Your nosey" "Hey I'm just sayin', you guys look good together" Seeing Alastor walk over I sit up a bit "speak of the devil~" angel winks at me and leaves the bar.

"well my dear you look wonderful as always" "You look extra nice as well" "Always have to look my best!" holding his hand out he offers it to me "Care to dance mon cher~" "Setting my glass down I take his hand, he pulls me to the dance floor, slow music playing as vaggie, Charlie and other demons began to dance. he holds my waist as I hold his shoulder and together we sway. "have you been enjoying yourself?" "yes, and you" "If I'm quite honest I'm only here to see you, my dear" As he twirls me I smile "Taking a liking to me?" "oh more than just a liking, you are quite the thief I'll have you know" "Well I suppose it's only fair since you have stolen from me as well~" "Have I now?" "you have" "How about a deal then" "a deal?" "yes a deal, you may keep what prized possession you have stolen from me as long as I get to court you~" "We have a deal" and with one last twirl the deal is sealed with a kiss...

The song ends and Charlie walks to the front of the room for an announcement, vaggie hands her a microphone as demons gather around, "I just want to thank everyone for coming out here and giving redemption a chance, and I want to thank my friends soooo much-" Charlie's eyes begin to water and vaggie takes the microphone "alright hun I think its time to go-" "I love you guys so much!!!" Charlie runs over and gives us all a hug, to my surprise Alastor doesn't protest, giving her a simple pat on the head as she wipes her tears. "we love you too Charlie!" "Now let's celebrate! I think it is time to bust out the big drinks" "Angellll don't get ahead of yourself!" "nah loosen up vagina" vaggie scowls as Angel drags all of us to the bar, husk serves all of us drinks.

I wanted to make this longer so badly but I had severe writer's block, man I need request to refresh myself, it took me the whole day to finish this but I hope you all still love this chapter and wait for some upcoming spice ;) have a good day/ night love you all!!!

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content and chapters click this masterlist

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 22

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

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

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, injuries, hospitals, jealousy, drug use, angst, smoking everywhere 'cause it's the 80s, girl fights, a whole lot of FLUFF

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments last week! So happy to bring these two idiots back to your screens of choice and give them an ending they deserve! Now, buckle up! We have some bitchy moments in this one 👀😇

<< 21 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

The gym smells of blood, sweat, and tears tonight. More so than ever before. The tensions run high.

It’s the first live taping since the show’s official cancellation. The first three matches have already run their course, the rest of the women joining Dean in his office, using the platform as the perfect viewing room. It’s like an NFL suite at Super Bowl. Everyone’s drinking, celebrating, and has gathered here to watch the biggest match of the night:

Red Sparrow vs. Liberty Bell

Usually, the green-eyed director would be bothered by the constant chatting, shrieking, and yapping. But tonight, he could care less as he passed the director’s crown on to his spawn, leaving Claire to man the booth and direct the show on her own, putting her AV skills to the test.

After all, the show’s already canceled. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well let a rebellious teenager call the shots. Who gives a shit! Isn’t it awesome to be this carefree?

“Can you guys keep it down?” Claire hisses with an annoyed roll of her eyes, her shoulders tense with stress as she tries to concentrate on the monitors. “I’m trying to direct a show here! I can’t fucking hear anything!”

Amused, Dean chuckles. Now, his daughter finally knows what it’s like to be in his shoes. He’s tried telling everyone for ages that these women are fucking annoying and that being a director ain’t easy.

While the women are busy talking up a storm and pay attention to the match, Dean sneaks to his desk and opens the first drawer. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, but it’s not a smoke he’s in the mood for. To his surprise and shock, however, the little bag of white powder he hides in there is gone.

Did he put it somewhere else?

Frantically, he starts opening every drawer, moving stuff in and out of them. He rummages through his folders on his desk, sees if he placed it there somewhere, but it’s nowhere to be found. His green eyes then dart to his kid and an eerie feeling settles in his stomach. Surely, Claire didn’t take it, right?

Like father, like daughter, it echoes through his mind.

He always loved the fact that his kid was so much like him – the love for good movies, the humor, the sass, the sheer unabashed talent. But not in that regard. God, does he hope she didn’t inherit his drug addiction, too.

“Claire?” Dean knows he has to be careful in his questioning, not wanting to alert the other women in the room to the pressing issue. But his daughter skillfully ignores him, too focused on her current task. “CLAIRE?!” he barks loud enough to rattle the entire office.

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t as smooth and inconspicuous as he had hoped, but he’s fucking panicking on the inside, alright? He has entered worried dad mode.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, okay? He has evolved like man is supposed to do.

In all honesty, Dean wanted to get completely clean two weeks ago. As soon as Y/N waltzed into his office and slept with him, he swore he’d never touch the toxic and nasty stuff again. He was done, and this time, it’d be final. No going backsies. But he had one teeny-tiny baggy left, and well, he hates to be wasteful. So, his plan was to slowly stop and keep the withdrawals at a minimum. And it worked great so far. It hasn’t snowed in four fucking days.

“What?!” his kid grunts back, audaciously annoyed.

“Did you snoop through my drawers and take my smokes out?” Dean asks her in his best dad voice. He’s gotten quite good at it since he practiced it over the last few weeks.

Do your homework!

Eat your vegetables!

Tell that fucking boyfriend of yours to stop sneaking in through the window, or I’ll get my gun!

“No, I don’t smoke!” Claire huffs without missing a beat and doesn’t take her eyes off the monitors even once.

Dean believes her. Usually, when she lies, there are a few seconds of thinking that pass by before she comes up with a reasonable excuse. Not that he buys any of them, but whatever. This time, though, she answered right away, and he knows she has no idea what he’s even talking about.

So, did he misplace it? You’d think he’d be more careful with drug storage, but sometimes it’s a glass of whiskey too many, and stuff gets lost. Did he leave it in the car? Is it at home?

But then it dawns on him. Joanna.

The blonde storms into his office, forcing the director to look up. Her mascara is smeared across her cheeks, her hair disheveled and overall she seems upset and out of breath.

“I need my own goddamn dressing room,” Barbie demands. “I can’t get ready and in the right head space with all of these women down there. I’m the star of the show. Some of us need peace and quiet to wash the shit of the world from us before they have to fucking perform!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, alright? Sit down,” Dean tells her calmly and gestures to the seat in front of him, where the blonde immediately plops down with an exhausted huff. “You can get ready in my office tonight, okay? You want a drink? You look like you need one.”

Jo nods with a sniffle and accepts the flask he’s offering her, almost downing the whole thing.

“What’s going on? You good?” Dean checks. Usually, he wouldn’t care about the blonde’s feelings, but since she’s up against Y/N tonight, he wants to assure himself nothing goes wrong.

“Yeah, it’s just… Sam.” She scoffs and takes another swig. “He’s got a new girlfriend. His secretary, Jessica.” The blonde rolls her eyes at the name. “Who knows how long he’s been fucking her. Our divorce isn’t even final.”

Dean nods understandingly as he rises from his chair and pats the blonde’s shoulder. “I know. Divorce is shitty. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

“Shit…” Dean mumbles.

He left an emotionally vulnerable woman alone in his office with a bunch of booze and drugs. How could he be this stupid and reckless? He doesn’t even suspect Jo took the coke on purpose. She was probably looking for a smoke and stumbled upon it, thinking, “What the hell? My day is already shit, maybe this makes it better.”

Dean knows because it’s usually what he thinks as well when he’s at his lowest. How do you think he got addicted to drugs in the first place, huh?

Here’s how: two divorces and a failing career.

“Boss?”

“Dean?!”

“Dad!”

The green-eyed director snaps out of his thoughts and turns to the room full of women upon their calling, all of them looking quite panicked and worried. It’s like a fox got loose in the coop.

His brow furrows as he approaches the booth and big windows, trying to see where the concern is coming from. “What? What’s going on?”

“I think there’s something wrong, boss,” Donna informs him. “That’s not the fight they’ve practiced during training. They’re going off script.”

Fucking shit…

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Billie cocks an eyebrow at the director, but he can’t get himself to focus or reply as his green eyes are glued to the match downstairs.

Dean’s too cynical to believe in a God and has certainly never prayed before, but tonight he can’t help it and utter a quiet prayer, hoping for a goddamn miracle.

His heart is racing as he watches the match unfold. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing can stop it. It’s like watching a fucking car crash as a bystander on the sidewalk.

Looking at Y/N’s face, he can see that she’s panicking as well and getting scared. It breaks his goddamn heart. The actress tries to talk to the blonde and get through to her but to no avail. Killer Barbie is on a mission, and her target is clearly Y/N.

And then, it all happens fast. Jo throws Y/N onto the mat and grabs her leg, raising it up by the ankle. There are tears in Y/N’s eyes before an audible crack echoes through the gym. Y/N screams out in pain. Jo drops her foot and backs away in shock, hands high in the air. The entire gym becomes mum, only a few quiet gasps uttered by the audience bounce off the tall walls.

Dean’s heart is about to explode as he bolts down the stairs and almost takes a fall. He hasn’t even reached the ring yet and assessed the damage, but he already blames himself. This is all his fucking fault. Donna warned him, and he didn’t listen. Y/N was obviously not fine, and neither was Jo. How many goddamn warning signs did he choose to ignore? And for what? For fucking ratings no one even cares about?

Y/N’s agonizing scream rings in his ears as the director makes his way to her. Rufus is already there in his referee costume, trying to help her as best as he can. Dean’s so close he can practically count the steps to the ring. Has this gym always been this huge? It feels like he’s been running a mile.

But then, he’s abruptly stopped by Cas’ announcer voice and what his green eyes find unfolding in front of him.

“And here comes a camera guy to save our Russian warrior!”

Oh hell, no!

Dean should probably be glad that someone is helping her and not let his jealousy win. But does that someone really have to be fucking Benny of all people? The green-eyed director truly thought he was done worrying about that guy. Now, however, he has to watch that douchebag heroically carry Y/N out of the ring while the audience cheers and claps.

It’s his worst goddamn nightmare. Well, that and Y/N getting hurt in the first place.

“Put her down,” Dean demands fiercely as he faces Benny, his blood boiling as he watches the actress hold on to the guy’s neck and wince in pain. A bit of guilt mixes with his jealousy at that.

Don’t be an asshole. Focus, he reminds himself. Y/N’s more important than your fucking ego.

“What? No,” Benny denies his request with a confused and irritated frown.

“That’s an order,” Dean grits boldly.

“I don’t care. She’s hurt,” Benny snaps back with emphasis and acts like Dean doesn’t know what that means. “Fucking fire me if you have a problem with that. The show’s done anyways.”

That fucking little prick…

Dean purses his lips in frustration. What is he supposed to do now? Rip her from the guy’s arms? Start a fist fight?

“I can take her. I’ll drive her to a hospital,” the director insists with a little more reasoning.

“Let’s take my limo! There’s enough space for her,” Ruby chimes in as the whole pack of women flock to the rescue and worryingly gather around Y/N.

Great. More helping hands is what Dean needs right now.

“No, we’re taking my car,” Dean maintains, trying to remain calm amongst the concerned chatter. “Baby’s backseat got plenty of space, alright?”

“True,” Bela agrees with a dirty smirk.

Dean sighs, Billie rolls her eyes, and Y/N frowns at that. Dear God, these fucking women…

“How about we ask Y/N what she wants, huh?” Dean proposes, knowing the actress will surely pick him. God knows she’s picked him yesterday all night long…

Benny smiles as if he could win this battle. “Fine.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what d’you want? Who do you wanna go with, huh?” Dean asks, lowering himself down to her with a gentle look in his eyes and a warm, caring smile.

“I don’t care!” Y/N whines with pained features and a high level of annoyance. “I just wanna go to a hospital! Any hospital in any car.”

Fair enough, Dean thinks dejectedly. Still, she could’ve done him a favor and picked him. He hates losing to a fucking camera operator.

“My limo it is!” Ruby exclaims and bolts ahead to the parking lot, keys jiggling in the air.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny turns and follows Valley girl outside, Dean swallowing down the urge to punch the guy as Y/N throws him an apologetic look over camera guy’s shoulder.

These fucking women…

Dean has floored the gas pedal of the Impala, but it’s fucking LA, so an hour was spent standing in traffic on the freeway. Moreover, he had to gather Claire and Cas as well and check on Jo, while Benny and the girls were already at the hospital with Y/N.

When Dean finally arrives, he rushes through the glass doors into the waiting area of the emergency room, Cas and Claire on his heels. His group is easy to spot, considering they’re all still in their fucking wrestling costumes.

His hands ball into fists when he sees Benny holding an ice pack to her injured ankle as she sits in a wheelchair, the girls scattered around Y/N on creaky hospital seats as they keep her company. He hates that camera guy is taking care of his girl. It should be him by her side, not some fucking footnote in this story.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why is she still waiting?” Dean asks furiously, charging in full-throttle. His heart is burning for Y/N, and nothing can extinguish it.

Hell, if she isn’t getting help soon, he’ll burn this goddamn hospital down.

“Because she’s not a gunshot wound?” Ruby answers wryly, earning her glare.

But Dean supposes party girl has a point. It’s an LA hospital in a bad neighborhood.

“Want me to lick your wound? Saliva helps with blood clotting,” Meg offers as she holds Y/N’s hand tightly.

“She’s not even bleeding,” Cassie counters with a raised brow.

“She might be bleeding internally,” Meg argues and places her palm on Y/N’s forehead, taking her temperature.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out,” Charlie scolds from the seat behind her.

“Why is this taking so long? My friend is in pain! Do you hear me?” Meg whines, calling to the nurses’ station.

Why are girls so exhausting? That question has been running around Dean’s mind for months now. He’s still lacking an answer.

Ignoring the female turmoil around him, Dean lowers himself down in front of Y/N and finds her eyes, smiling gently. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing, huh?”

“Dean!” Y/N smiles broadly when she recognizes him, her face lighting up and beaming brighter than the fluorescent lights above her. It warms his heart.

The director’s head then tilts slightly, inspecting her closer. She seems awfully chipper for someone in pain. Her pupils are gigantic, too.

Ruby leans in and whispers, “I gave her a Valium… and then half a Klonopin.”

Ah. There it is. She’s fucking high. That explains it.

Dean reaches out his hand and caresses her pink cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “You feeling good, sweetheart?”

“I’m awesome,” she replies with a drowsy giggle.

He grins. “Yeah, I bet you are…”

Is it weird he’d like to fuck her in this state? Right, probably not a good time to ask those questions. (But he swears he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Just play with her and test her senses a little.)

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N tells him dreamily, making him blush hard as she touches a few strands of his hair and plays with them.

“And the first pill is kicking in,” Ruby notes, amused.

A nurse then finally walks into the waiting room with a tired gleam in her eyes and clears her throat to catch everyone’s attention. Dean can’t blame her. He knows it’s like a fucking circus in here.

“Good news. We have a bed ready, so I’ll take her back and all of you can leave?” the nurse explains and looks at the wolf pack hopefully.

Meg stares her dead in the eyes and replies flatly, “Not a chance.”

Yeah, Dean could’ve told that nurse those girls weren’t going anywhere.

Benny rises from his position and attempts to push Y/N’s wheelchair, following the nurse. But Dean will be damned if he lets him. Provocatively, he pushes the camera guy aside and scowls at him, making his territory and claim clear. The girls aren’t the only wolves in this waiting room.

“I got her. You can leave,” Dean growls with a deathly stare. “My show, my actress. I’m the director, and she’s my fucking responsibility, got it?”

Benny raises his palms in surrender and takes a step back. He already knew he lost when Y/N only had eyes for Dean as soon as the director showed up. A pill-high never lies.

The nurse helps Y/N into a bed in a small, quiet room. As they wait for a doctor, Dean impatiently paces the room, fuming away on his smoke. If you can’t tell, he’s far away from relaxed.

A man in a white coat with a friendly smile then finally strolls in and introduces himself. “Hello there, Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Gabriel Piccolo. Are you with the circus?”

Dr. Sexy, as Dean refers to the guy, lifts an eyebrow at Y/N’s unusual costume. You’d think as a doctor at a hospital in Hollywood, he’d see more people like this.

“I’m an actress on a wrestling TV show,” Y/N replies, not offended by his question in the slightest.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have to watch it,” Dr. Sexy says politely and then gets straight down to business, cocking his head at her injured leg. “Okay, so left ankle. We’re gonna have to cut off this boot.”

“Oh! No, no, no. Sorry, these are important.” Y/N protectively throws herself over her knee-high army boot.

Dean sighs a little. Even high on pills and in unbearable pain, Y/N still prioritizes her silly job. “Alright, Doc. I got it,” the director relents and shoots the man a look.

Carefully, Dean unties her laces, loosening the shoe enough. “I’m gonna go slow, sweetheart. Just take it easy, alright?”

Dean flashes her a smirk and watches as she bites down on her lower lip, nodding. She inhales sharply and whimpers when he slips the boot off her foot. His fingers smooth over her leg, soothe the skin, and elicit a shudder from her. He can tell the action turned her on, can see the goosebumps rise on her arms as she presses her thighs together. He can practically hear her drip.

He smirks devilishly. Y/N sends him a knowing frown.

Dr. Sexy clears his throat and interrupts their heated moment, causing Y/N’s cheeks to flush furiously.

The doctor then assesses her ankle. It’s swollen and the skin a purplish-blue. Dean knows it doesn’t fucking look good. He guesses it’s not a simple sprain.

“Can you feel your toes? Can you wiggle them?” the doc checks. Y/N does as asked and moves her toes as best as she can. It’s not much though before she winces in pain. “How does that feel?”

Dr. Sexy touches the swell on her ankle, and Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fucking hurts,” she grits through strained teeth.

“Okay, we’re gonna take some X-rays. See what we’ve got,” the doc finally says and disappears out of the room.

Y/N exhales an exhaustive breath and looks at the director. “Distract me,” she prompts with desperate eyes.

“Well, I’m not gonna be my regular chipper self,” Dean quips, making her laugh. He smiles, too, and leans in closer. “How about this?”

He wiggles his eyebrows and then dips his head, claiming her lips in a blistering kiss that makes her legs quiver. His tongue slips inside her mouth, swipes deep as teeth scrape her lower lip. Upon her first moan, he draws back with a smug smile.

He leans close to her ear, whispering against her shell, “You know if curling your toes didn’t hurt, I’d make you come so fast on my fingers right now, baby girl.”

Her eyes widen. She gasps and gently hits his arm in a scolding manner. “Dean!”

“What?” He chuckles and pecks her crown. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The girls then soon flood the room, one by one providing endless entertainment that surely no other patient at this hospital receives. Y/N’s a fucking star here, although she always is to Dean.

First, there was Claire, who practically emptied the vending machine, buying sweets and snacks for every taste (with Dean’s money). He’s nothing more than a wallet to that girl.

Meg, on the other hand, stole more pillows and blankets from other patients, making sure Y/N was as comfortable as possible. Ruby read Cosmopolitan to her and filled out the magazine’s sex quiz, intriguing Dean a lot.

Every girl pretty much brought their unique sense of entertainment, making Y/N laugh and smile so much she almost forgot why she was here. Only one woman was missing from the wolf pack – Joanna.

As Y/N is finally wheeled away to her X-rays, Dean decides to join the other women in the waiting room. He’s more than happy to discover that Benny actually left when he can’t catch sight of the guy anymore.

Guess the director is the true winner, after all.

Donna then approaches Cas, who’s nervously sucking on a cigarette in the corner by the vending machine, and hands him a clipboard with a hospital form.

“Y/N doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t know what to fill out,” the blonde tells him and meekly saunters back to her seat.

Cas frowns and looks at the women in disbelief. “How could she not have insurance? She’s a professional wrestler.”

Billie arches a sarcastic eyebrow at that and replies wryly, “Yeah, employed by Novak Productions, who doesn’t provide health care.”

Cas swallows guiltily and purses his lips. “How many of you don’t have insurance?”

Almost every woman in the room raises their hand, except for Jo, Billie, and party girl.

That tracks, Dean thinks and is not the least bit surprised. Judging by Cas’ shocked expression, though, this revelation clearly shatters the privileged rich boy’s world.

The producer nods earnestly. “This is my responsibility, and I will take care of it,” he promises. Dean gives him a pat on the back, letting Cas know he’s doing the right thing. If the producer hadn’t footed Y/N’s bill, Dean surely would have.

The director then glances around the waiting area, noticing the sad faces and depressed mood. “Alright, she’s not dying, okay?” he tells them and catches their attention. “You guys did a great show tonight. Why don’t you go back to the motel?”

“Great?” Donna cocks a brow at his word choice. “We were amazing.”

Charlie looks up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes as her red hair shimmers in the fluorescent light. “You think we get our old time slot back, Dean?”

Dean smacks his lips, scratching the scruff on his chin. He then shakes his head. He can’t lie to them. Knowing what he knows, he also knows it’s over. “No, I don’t. I think we’re gonna die at 2am… But we’ll die on our own terms, alright?”

Nodding, Ruby sighs loudly. “I’ll drive everybody home. And then, we get drunk while we ice our knees.”

As the girls start to gather their belongings and rise from their seats, Jo rushes through the glass doors. The women punish her with little glares on their way out. No one buys it was an innocent accident. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure the wolf pack believes the blonde tried to murder their beloved leader.

Dean, however, doesn’t.

“She’s in room 3,” he tells Jo without further comment.

The green-eyed director didn’t know what he had expected when he sent Joanna into Y/N’s room. Maybe that they’d talk like adults, get it all out in the open, and finally make amends. Be best friends again.

But maybe that was a little naive of him.

It all started out innocently. Dr. Sexy entered the room with a set of X-rays and left happily a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas smoked in the hospital’s corridor and drank the most awful-tasting coffee out of plastic cups.

Then, the mood started to shift. The guys could hear the girls arguing with slightly raised voices, just loud enough for it to drown out into the hallway.

“Eight to ten weeks? It’s not that long,” Jo could be heard saying.

“It’s the rest of the season. I won’t be on the show,” Y/N threw in through gritted teeth. Dean could hear the upset in her voice.

Jo scoffed, brushing it off. “Well, we’re getting canceled anyways, so… It’s just a job, you know.”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N’s voice went up a notch in volume. Dean knew she was close to reaching a boiling point. This wasn’t good.

“Okay, geez, you don’t have to lash out at me. I did not mean to break your ankle, okay?” Jo countered, pushing all blame off her.

“I don’t fucking believe you!”

And that was the turning point. That’s when the yelling started. The one that could be heard throughout the hospital, spilling into every room and probably several floors.

“No, no, no…. See, that was an accident, Y/N,” Jo says with a jittery voice. “Unlike the time you accidentally fucked my husband! TWICE!”

“You made out with my prom date on prom night!”

“That is not the same thing, and you know it!”

“Oh? Is it the same thing when you hooked up with your co-star at your stupid soap wrap party one week before you got married? And coincidentally, Sammy was born nine months later! Is he even Sam’s? ‘Cause he looks a whole lot like what‘s-his-face!”

“How dare you!”

“You didn’t even love Sam! You only married him for his money!”

“You don’t have the fucking right to say anything about my marriage!”

Cas swallows down a big gulp of coffee, sharing a nervously concerned look with Dean. “Should we, you know, go in there?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he vividly shakes his head. “Fuck no! Are you nuts? We stay right here. Look, men are simple. They throw a few punches and then share a drink. And women… Well, women do fucking this. Bottle everything up, even for years sometimes, till it fucking explodes. Trust me, they need this. Let ‘em get it outta their system.”

Fucking women…

“Oh, do I have the right to talk about your power complex?” Y/N yells. “Or do I have to schedule a meeting with all the producers?”

“I’ve earned my title!”

“Right, your fucking work ethic is legendary! I’m so sick and tired of apologizing about Sam! I don’t care anymore! I have eaten shit for months! I have done everything I can think of to make this right!”

“You can’t make it right!”

“Great! Then I’ll stop trying!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah, fine like you telling me I should get raped to save our show! The show you don’t give a shit about!”

“God, you’re so melodramatic! I just figured you’re already screwing our director for attention, what’s one more network executive!”

Cas blinks at Dean with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Are you-… Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dean averts his eyes to the blue wall opposite him and wordlessly sips his coffee. He has a feeling the girls’ fight is about to take a turn, going into a direction he doesn’t particularly care for. Why can’t they just leave him out of it?

Cas, however, takes Dean’s silence as what it is – an admission. The producer’s face lights up with joy. He excitedly rubs Dean’s shoulder and gasps giddily. “That’s so great! You haven’t dated anyone since Amara! I’m so happy for you! I love Y/N! Are you guys getting married? Did you buy a ring? Can I be best man? You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”

Dean scowls at the producer and heaves a deep sigh. “Calm the fuck down, would you? No one’s getting married.”

“Go to hell! I’m not fucking Dean, okay?” Y/N denies Jo’s accusation loudly.

Dean thinks she’s a hell of an actress. If he didn’t know for a fact that he was balls-deep inside her last night, he would’ve bought that little lie.

“Oh please! It’s so obvious!” Jo counters. Dean can practically hear the exhaustive eye roll that followed. “He’s following you around the gym like a lovesick puppy!”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. He does not like where this conversation is headed.

“He is not! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you really trying to fucking lie to me, right now? I’ve known you since middle school!” Jo snaps. “And he certainly fits your glorious dating choices! Drug addiction? Check! Asshole? Check! Commitment issues? Check! He’s perfect for you. I’m surprised your slutty ass didn’t jump him the first day!”

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

Then, more yelling, more accusations, and more tears follow before Jo storms out of the room and bolts past the boys down the hallway.

Fucking girls…

“I’ve never felt so guilty about anything,” Cas mumbles next to him, completely distraught and shaken.

Dean scoffs. “Geez, you’ve lived a charmed life.”

“Thought I was gonna have a wrestling show, and no one was gonna get injured?” Cas shakes his head at his own nonsense. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I destroyed our little family! I mean, Y/N is a gimp.”

The director rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’ll go on to have a full life, okay?”

Somehow that causes Cas to smile cheekily. He nudges the director’s shoulder. “With you?”

Dean sends him a thundering glare and dumps his burning cigarette bud into the producer’s coffee cup as he walks past him and returns to Y/N’s room.

Dean sat quietly next to Y/N as a nurse put a cast on her leg. The ankle, much like the women’s friendship, was broken, and the actress was out of commission for the foreseeable future. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, only sniffling and crying silently to herself. Dean left her alone and only handed her a tissue every now and then, figuring she needed some time to calm down and think. But he still wanted her to know he was there in case she needed him.

As the nurse finally leaves, Dean reaches out his hand and takes hers, drawing comforting circles on the back of it. Patiently, he waits till she’s ready to look at him.

“Well, I won’t be needing these anymore,” Y/N mutters with a pout and dumps her army boots on the little bedside table. “You should give them to Claire. She’d make a great replacement Red Sparrow.”

Dean purses his lips. It takes a lot out of him not to roll his eyes at her dramatization. He supposes that’s what he gets for falling in love with a goddamn actress – fucking theater no less. But he knows she’s really going through it right now, so he’s willing to cut her some slack.

“Relax, I’m not giving your part away,” he assures her with an easy smile.

“Well, you have to, if you want to keep the storyline moving forward,” she mumbles grumpily.

“Who cares? It’s just a TV show,” Dean argues.

However, that particular line seems to anger her. “Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not to me,” she contends and finds his eyes, her teary-eyed and desperate look boring into him. “I have people now. People who come with me to the ER. People who care if I’m hurt.”

Dean nods his head in understanding. He knows Cas and Y/N are essentially right, as much as it hurts him to admit it. They are a little family – a weird and incredibly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the easiest thing to say, you know?” he says and lets out a sigh. He rests his palm on her thigh and squeezes reassuringly. “How’s this? I don’t wanna make this show without you. I’m not gonna make this show without you.”

Y/N sucks in her lips, forming a tight line as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I thought we were all replaceable.”

Dean’s lips twitch with a smile. He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Well, you’re not, sweetheart.”

He leans closer and kisses her ardently till her toes curl. When she hisses slightly in pain, he pulls back, both of them chuckling.

Then, Dean swallows the heavy lump in his throat. He knows he has to come clean, literally and figuratively. He takes her hand in his again. This time for his own comfort.

“Listen, uhm, tonight was kinda my fault… on some level, at least,” the director starts.

Y/N’s brow creases, but she brushes it off with a disbelieving snort. “Why? Did you tell Jo to break my ankle?”

Dean chuckles lightly, although he doesn’t feel like laughing, considering he’s scared to death she’ll dump him in a few seconds once she hears the truth. “No, uhm, but she might’ve found something in my office that caused a lack of judgment on her part. I-, uhm, I might not have been as clean and drug-free as you believed me to be.”

“Oh. I see…” Y/N bites her lower lip and averts her gaze back to her hands, her fingers fumbling in a nonsensical pattern like a nervous tic. And then, she doesn’t say anything for serval minutes, while Dean slowly feels himself go crazy.

“So, uh, where do we stand? Are we mad? Disappointed? Disgusted? Sad?” Dean pries and pokes for an answer.

“I guess, uhm, disappointed,” she says finally. Dean sighs internally as his heart tightens. He had hoped it wouldn’t be that one. It’s the worst one. “And sad,” she adds.

Strike that. This is the worst one.

“Okay, uhm, good,” he replies before noticing her cocked brow at his answer. “I mean, not good-good, obviously. Just good to know where we are… So, where are we? Is this-, you know, is it over? Between us?”

Y/N glances at him slightly and takes a thoughtful breath. “No,” she says, and his heart rejoices with relief. “I kinda already knew you’re not perfect.”

Dean’s brow furrows momentarily before he smirks cockily. “Agree to disagree.”

Y/N tries to hide a smile at his joke. She’s unsuccessful in her endeavor. She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “It’s not your fault. It was still Jo’s choice,” she tells him. “Are you, you know, still…?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, I’m not. I haven’t for a couple of days, and I won’t anymore. I promise. Especially after tonight. I learned my lesson. I’m done with it. For good.”

“Okay,” she accepts.

Dean frowns a little because her forgiveness feels too easy, but he doesn’t get a chance to prod some more, her soft lips on his shutting him up for now. The kiss is fervent and sweet all the same. It makes his head spin and provides him with a completely different high – a much better one.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to get creative with this thing, huh?” Dean grins smugly and gently pats her cast.

Y/N throws him a raised look that borders on amusement. Of course, all he ever thinks about is sex. But she doesn’t mind a little sexy goofiness in her life right now and leans in for another kiss. He is a pretty fantastic kisser, after all.

“I got markers!” Cas hops cheerily into the room with a few pens held high in the air, watching the two of them quickly pull apart with red-tinted cheeks. The producer smiles adoringly at them. “You guys! Look at you! This is so exciting!”

“Oh, uh–”

Dean sees the panic spread on Y/N’s face and quickly swoops in, sending Cas a friendly but threatening look. “Hey, uh, buddy? Keep this between us, alright?”

“You got it! My lips are sealed.” Cas winks and locks his lips with his fingers, but his excitement isn’t even close to disappearing. “And I paid your bill, by the way!”

“Oh, Cas, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N tells him sweetly and seems clearly flattered by his care.

“Yes, I did, ‘cause you couldn’t possibly afford it,” Cas says bluntly and uncaps a marker, signing his name on her cast. “And I felt so guilty.”

A knock on the door makes the three look up and watch Jo hesitantly amble inside, her head lowered in resignation and guilty admission. She holds up a duffel bag with a nervous smile.

“I thought you might wanna leave the hospital with pants on, so I brought you your favorite sweats from the motel,” she says and hands Y/N the peace offering. Y/N accepts it with a small smile. Jo then glances awkwardly at Dean and Cas. “As you may have heard, Y/N and I got into a big fight,” she explains the general tension in the room.

Dean nods curtly. “Oh, yeah, everybody heard.”

“Yeah, the cashier at the gift shop couldn’t stop talking about it.” Cas chuckles, causing Y/N and Jo to blush in embarrassment.

“So, what’s the plan, Dean?” Y/N looks expectantly up at him like he’s an oracle with all the answers.

Lucky for her, though, he’s cocky enough to provide them.

“You know what? We got four episodes left, right? Fuck it. No one’s watching. No one cares. Y/N can’t even walk. So I say we do whatever the hell we want,” the director suggests and grins broadly. “Let’s just set the weirdos free and see what the fuck happens.”

“I hope you guys have fun,” Y/N mutters with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it,” Dean interjects her pouting and self-pity. “You’re like a one-woman idea machine. I need you. Where we’re going, you don’t need legs.”

Jo smiles encouragingly at her and sits down on the edge of the bed as Cas hands her a marker. The two women then chat as if nothing ever happened, while the producer and the director share a confused look over the sudden ceasefire. But they take it as what it is – a gift from above.

Girls…

“Hey, uh, there’s something I need to do,” Dean says then. “Are you guys okay here to keep Y/N some company? I’ll pick you up right after.”

The three of them nod, and Dean feels confident enough to leave Y/N’s side. After all the emotional turmoil and chaos over the last week, the director direly needs an appropriate outlet.

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of H-ELLTV in Anaheim. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely up but still powerful enough that the beams sting his green eyes. Maybe it’s also the lack of sleep that causes it to hurt more.

Drugs aren’t an option. It’s too early to drink, even for him. And sex would’ve been possible, but he doesn’t want to be the ass that asks for it while his not-girlfriend is suffering in the hospital.

So, here he stands, next to Dicksuck Roman’s spot, where a beautiful dark blue Aston Martin V8 is parked.

Ever since Y/N told him what that creep tried to do, Dean’s been raking his brain with different revenge fantasies. Sure, he could cut off the guy’s dick and make him eat it, or cook his balls over a BBQ grill, or chop his head off and dunk it in acidic cleaning supplies. But Dean knows the only way to truly hurt a man is through his car.

The green-eyed director then pops open Baby’s trunk and hauls out a golf club. It was a gift from Cas that came with an invitation to hit the green in Pasadena for “networking purposes.” As if. Cas eventually accepted that Dean would rather kill himself before setting foot in that country club. (He might’ve also threatened to kill everyone else in it, which scared Cas enough to drop it.)

Dean’s heart soars high to the cloudless sky above as he administers the first few blows, shattering the front window and thoroughly denting the scratch-free and glistening hood.

Not anymore, Dean thinks with sinister joy.

He stops mid-swing, though, when Crowley walks by. The two men look at each other for a moment. Will the manager call the cops? Will Cas have to post bail on top of paying hospital bills?

But Crowley only bobs his head in acknowledgment. “He pisses off a lot of people,” he offers as an explanation and strolls ahead into the building, not paying Dean any more mind.

So, Dean continues hitting and swinging and batting until his lungs burn and his arms hurt. Only then does he drive back to the hospital across town to pick up his friends with a lightener heart.

23. Every Breath you Take

*sighs blissfully* Aah, some sweet fluff before all the drama starts... (And yes, I consider this chapter less drama and lots of fluff. That's how far we've come 😂)

Let me know how you've enjoyed this part! Are we rid of Benny for good? Is Y/N going to break Dean's plastic heart? 👀

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity

[anathemaloren]

flowers and tea

Naomi McPherson x fem!florist!reader

🌼Warnings - 2 curse words? and english is not my first language

🌼Genre - fluff (i guess)

🌼Word count - 3.4k (WHAT?!)

🌼Notes - OH MY GOD, you don't know how much time I've spent writing this like 3k words???? that's just crazy. also, i wrote this in several classes at school, sorry arturo, montse and chus 🙏🏼 and this is dedicated to carolina who tried to peek into the story and i didn't let her, luv ya bubs

Having her own shop was a dream and a nightmare at the same time for Y/n L/n.  Paying the bills, keeping the flowers beautiful the whole day through, being all day on her feet or dealing with rude costumers were all things Y/n wished she could get rid of. But at the same time, she truly loved her job. Being able to surround herself with flowers was a dream come true, and seeing a smile on the face of a happy customer really made her day. Plus, the shop was in a strategic place in Los Angeles where sometimes famous people came through, and she even had a few celebrities who were usual shoppers. Lucy Dacus stopped from time to time to buy flowers in order to dry them, and considered Y/n a friend. Pedro Pascal always bought flowers for his sister from Y/n, and Ashton Irwin loved to stop by for a chat about how to keep his plants as beautiful as Y/n’s. So, Y/n shouldn’t fall easily for a star, right?

          It was a slow day, so Y/n busied herself rearranging flowers on the back of the shop. She was calmly arranging a bouquet of lilies when she heard the bell on top of the door and a pair of shoes rushing in. Curious about who would come bursting in like that, she lowered the volume of the Glenn Miller vinyl that was playing on the background and stepped into the front of the shop while cleaning her hands on her apron. She then saw a person looking like they had run for 10 kilometres, with curls sticking to their red face, and trying to catch some air.

          “Hi.” Y/n said calmly “Can I help you with something?” she asked. “Yeah, I think you would be unbelievably helpful right now” they said, making Y/n chuckle amused. “Tell me, what can I do for you?” she said, taking her notebook out, just in case she needed to write something down. The person standing on the other side of the counter leaned a bit on it and tried to arrange the curls around their head. “It’s my mum’s birthday, and I’ve been so busy that I completely forgot about buying her something, and I love her very much I can’t just not buy her anything, and I’m meeting her tonight, I can’t show up empty handed” they said without stopping, catching a quick deep breath “. So Lucy told me to come here and say to you that she sent me and that you could arrange something with flowers that have meaning for, like… now… could you?” they finished, looking expectantly at Y/n. The girl just blinked a few times, taking all the information in. “Which Lucy sent you?” she asked, testing the person’s connection to her, not truly trusting them yet, even though they looked like a decent person to her. “Ummm… Lucy Dacus?” they said, with caution. Y/n visibly lighted up, smiling at the thought of the black haired girl recommending her to her friends. “Well, you should’ve started with that.” She said, turning around and starting to walk to the back of the shop, turning around again to gesture to the still nameless person to follow her back.

          If the front of the shop was a dream, full of aromatic plants and antique furniture, the back of it was another level of etherealism. Besides another huge amount of plants and flowers, one wall was a window wall, made out of old looking stained glass of art déco style. There was a table with two chairs were Y/n would have tea, sometimes with someone else, and behind the table there was a bookshelf with heaps of books about flowers and their care and meanings. In the middle of the room there was a worktable with a few half-arranged bouquets of lilies of different colours. Y/n moved with ease around the space, and she turned to face the stranger once she got to the workbench, only to find said stranger with their mouth half opened in awe.

          “Are you okay?” Y/n asked, slightly amused with the reaction she was witnessing. The stranger blinked a few times as if to come out of some sort of trance, and responded after centering themselves in the conversation again “Yeah, yeah, fine” they said, making Y/n’s smile a bit brighter. “I’m Naomi, by the way” the stranger said, finally giving a name to the curious person. “Oh, yeas, from Muna, right?” Y/n said, eliciting a nod from Naomi. “Lucy has told me so much about all of you, I don’t know how I couldn’t recognize you the moment you walked in” she said, making Naomi smile a bit. “She really talks about me to you?” Naomi asked, feeling a wave of affection for their friend. “Yeah, she talks about all of you all the time” Y/n said, giggling a bit “. I almost feel like I know you personally sometimes, although meeting you in person makes me realize she forgot to mention some things” she said, standing behind the working table and moving the flowers around to make space for others. “Like what?” Naomi asked, furrowing their brows, thinking that maybe they had given a terrible first impression, when they had been mesmerized with Y/n since they had seen her. The girl standing opposite to them smiled at them coyly before saying nonchalantly “For starters, she forgot to mention you are even more handsome on real life than on pictures.” The comment made the curly haired blush, not expecting the sweet looking florist to be so flirty and straightforward.

          Naomi’s reaction made Y/n giggle, feeling like she couldn’t stop smiling around them. She didn’t know where the confidence to be so bold had come from, either. She then decided to stop messing around and get to work. “So” she said, clearing her throat before continuing ´´, what did you want for your mum?” Naomi shook their head for a second, pulling themselves together about the flirty comment from before, and answered the question “I truly don’t know, I just want to tell her I love her, and flowers seemed like a good option” they said, being truly bad at flowers. “So you want to send a message with these flowers” Y/n said, looking at Naomi attentively. “Yeah, basically” they answered, doubting a bit about the rightness of their answer. “Well, if you want I can arrange a bouquet with flowers that mean that you love her” Y/n smiled, always loving to do bouquets with deep meanings. “Do you mean flowers mean something specific?” Naomi asked, making Y/n clutch her pearls in feigned offense. “Of course they do! That’s my job you’re talking about!” she said, making Naomi laugh. Y/n smiled and walked over to the bookshelf, picking up and old-looking book, with a pink cover and golden details.

          Y/n sat down on one of the chairs of the table, signalling Naomi to sit in the other one. The florist browsed through the book, in which Naomi could only see beautiful illustrations and paragraphs of what they could guess was information about the flowers in the other page. When Y/n finally had all the information she needed, she closed the book and looked up, only to find the curly haired brunet already looking at her. This discovery made the girl blush and Naomi look away immediately, embarrassed about being caught. Y/n decided not to panic, clearing her throat before speaking “I think I’ve found the ideal flowers” she said “. If you follow me, I can show them to you” she continued, while standing up, already blushing a bit again. Where had all the previous confidence gone? The person now standing in front of her was truly messing with her emotions, and they had only met for roughly 25 minutes, even less.

          Y/n waltzed around the room picking up flowers, oblivious to the mesmerized client who was following her. She picked up the flowers and explained their meanings to Naomi “White carnations mean purity, love and beauty; the azaleas are a symbol of womanhood in China, and they are a symbol of love; daisies symbolize purity and innocence; and camellias represent gratitude and longevity” Although Naomi seemed like they were just hypnotized about the girl’s beauty, her words were also enthralling to them. After coming back with the flowers to the worktable, Y/n asked Naomi about their opinion, at which they could only stutter an OK, making the girl working in the bouquet blush and giggle.

          When she finished the bouquet, the mixture of carnations, daisies, azaleas and camellias looked beautiful. Y/n’s talent was something that had Naomi’s mouth open in amazement. Their head couldn’t wrap around the fact that two hands and a few flowers had given such result, the florist’s talent oozing from every aspect of the bouquet. Besides from the big possibility of their mum loving the bouquet, Naomi had also fallen in love with the care and talent Y/n had shown making it. Maybe they had also fallen for the hands responsible of such beauty, and the person who controlled them with so much grace.

          Y/n finished wrapping the bouquet, not really wanting Naomi to leave her shop. But she knew she couldn’t stop a big ass pop star that surely wasn’t going to fall for her. “I think this is finished” she said, nerves flowing through her whole body. “We can go to the front now” she continued, now moving to the front of the shop, bouquet in hand. While Naomi paid with her card, Y/n finished preparing the gift. When she turned around to get the business card she always gave out to first time clients, she hesitated when deciding what complimentary flower to give to Naomi. She finally chose a lavender coloured rose. She nervously put the flower and the card in a bag with the flowers. She didn’t know why she was so shaken, Naomi probably didn’t share her feelings; for fuck’s sake, they had known each other for something more than an hour. When Y/n gave the bag to Naomi their fingers brushed ever so slightly, which resulted in different reactions; Y/n let out a sigh, while Naomi froze immediately. When the florist realized they had spent more time than necessary in that position, she put her hand back as Naomi’s suddenly burned. They just blinked a few times, blushed, turned back and marched through the door mustering a rushed thanks and a farewell. Y/n sighed when Naomi was finally out, leaning on the counter and placing her head between her hands. What a naïve thought, that someone like Naomi McPherson could ever like someone like her. Now, she just had to move on, and try to forget about them.

Lucy Dacus had decided to have a quiet night. She had a nice dinner, placed a few candles and played some soft background music. She then picked up her current read, and with a cup of a delicious tea that Y/n had suggested her, she got ready to relax, plunging down on the armchair she loved the most. That relaxing, though, didn’t last long, as she heard the doorbell ring. She groaned, detangling herself and getting up to open the door. If it was her annoying neighbour again, she was ready to throw hands. However, when she opened the door, there was no nosy neighbour on the other side; instead, Naomi was there, nervously biting her nails, and looking a bit miserable. “Naomi? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Lucy asked, worried about her friend’s state. “Where the fuck did you send me?” they just said, spreading their arms exasperated. “What?” Lucy just said, sincerely confused. Seeing as the only answer from Naomi was a pair of widened eyes, which lead to Lucy sighing and moving from the door, signalling Naomi to come in. Goodbye, quiet night.

          After a cup of tea, Naomi had calmed down, and they had told Lucy about those afternoon events. “And when I finished dinner with my mum I needed to vent, and as you were the one who told me to go to her, I just…” they finished, trailing down at the end. Lucy nodded in understanding, not needing to hear more from her friend before concluding “So basically, you fell head over heels for her and you think she doesn’t correspond your feelings”. Naomi just mustered a “yeah” while dropping their head in defeat. Lucy nodded again, leaning back on the armchair she was sitting in. “Well, we can kind of know how she feels about you” she said, smiling softly, making Naomi shoot their head up, waiting for a solution for their problems. “Did you keep the flower she gave you with her card?” Lucy said, already knowing the answer. Naomi slowly reached for a pocket in their jacket, taking out a lavender rose. Lucy got up and moved towards a shelf next to a window, where she saw rain starting to pour. She took a book from the shelf, under the curious stare of her friend. The book was a Victorian guide to flower meanings, which Lucy had somehow managed to thrift. She looked through the book sat on the armchair again. She could feel Naomi biting their nails and looking nervously at her. Finally, she found it. “It says here that lavender roses mean…” Lucy stopped, looking kindly at the meaning “It’s a flower that represents enchantment love at first sight” she said, looking again at Naomi, whose mouth was now partly opened in shock and eyes completely opened. They quickly recomposed and started shaking their head in denial. “Come on, Dacus, stop playing” they said, not believing what Lucy was saying. “I’m not” Lucy replied, showing the book to them. Naomi was feeling a weird mix of emotions, between shock, denial and complete confusion, with a tint of utter affection. Was this some kind of sick and twisted joke?

          Naomi got up and started pacing Lucy’s living room, not sure about what that really meant. They knew they had liked Y/n, call it love at first sight if you feel like it, but something had bloomed in that flower shop, and not only the plants. Lucy closed the book and laid back, deciding to leave Naomi to walk around and calm down. They finally did, sitting across Lucy again. Taking a deep breath, the curly haired talked for the first time in the last few minutes, breaking the silence that had settled itself on the room, mixed with the sound of drops of the still pouring rain. “What do you think I should do?” they asked Lucy for advice, with a hint of somewhat fear on their voice. “I can’t decide anything for you” Lucy said, shaking their head. “I’m not asking for instructions, Luce, I want your opinion” Naomi said, in a soft tone. Lucy sighed and leaned towards her friend “Do you like Y/n?” she asked, not really expecting a forward answer. “Yeah, I think I do” Naomi said with a sincere voice, astounding Lucy, who blinked and talked again. “Do you want to tell her that?” “I think I do” they replied again. Lucy questioned Naomi for a third time “I have her address. Do you want me to give it to you?” she said, and spoke again before Naomi could say anything “And don’t say that you think you do” she half-threatened. Her friend closed their mouth, opening it not much of a second later “I truly want her address” Lucy nodded, getting up to write it on a blue piece of paper. When she finished, she folded it and gave it to Naomi, who was standing up, nervously playing with their fingers. The moment they had the paper, they gave a heartfelt hug to Lucy, and then sprinted to the door. Lucy saw them get into their car and smiled softly. She didn’t mind a night not so quiet if it was for the sake of romance.

Y/n was laying on her couch, one feet dangling off it. She laid there, looking at pictures of Naomi on Pinterest, although if someone asked, she was reading the Rilke book that was now laying on the coffee table next to her. She sighed, turning her phone off and keeping to staring to the ceiling. How was she so stupid that she had been so enchanted by someone who had been in her store for an hour. She stood up and picked up the book, deciding it was enough pining for someone she probably would never see again. She read a few pages, but didn’t last long before putting the book in her lap and looking out the window. She looked at the pouring rain, which she loved. She knew she should hate the rain, but she loved the romanticism of it all, even though she knew she would never have her ever so idyllic love confession in the rain.

          Just as she was lost on her thoughts, Y/n heard the doorbell ring. She wondered who the hell would be knocking at that time in the night, even more with that terrible weather, which truly didn’t invite to going out. She kept wondering who it could be as she walked to the door, expecting to see a neighbour or someone trying to sell her some stupid product. However, the only person she found waiting outside of her house was a drenched Naomi. Y/n’s eyes opened wide as she took the sigh in, with her breath getting caught in her throat.

          Y/n talked, although the lump she felt on her throat made it a bit difficult. “What are you doing here?” she said, not being able to move herself from her spot on the door entrance. “I needed to see you” they said, with a tint of hopelessness in their voice. Y/n felt like flowers were blooming in her stomach, with the leaves and petals tickling her stomach. “How did you know where I lived?” Y/n asked again, nerves now flowing through her system. Naomi looked a bit guilty before answering “Lucy gave it to me, I asked her for it”. Y/n made a mental note of scolding her later, but asked the last question she couldn’t stop pondering about. “And why did you want to see me, Naomi?” she said, not sure if she wanted to hear the response. Naomi breathed deeply before replying. “I like you” they said, making Y/n’ world turn upside down in a matter of microseconds. She tried to calm down her breath, that was now working, but too fast for anyone’s liking.

          However, Naomi misinterpreted the silence, thinking that Y/n was somewhat outraged by the statement, apologizing while moving back to what Y/n suspected was their car “I’m sorry, this was a mistake”. Y/n snapped back then, following Naomi to their car with a quick pace “Naomi, wait!” she said, trying to get Naomi to look at her. The curly haired, which hair was now not so curly as it was soaked and stuck to their face, turned around and looked at her with a pained look on their face. Y/n tried to find the words, but they seemed to be stuck to the walls of her throat. Naomi exhaled, turning back once more to unlock their car. Seeing as the opportunity of confessing was slipping through her fingers, Y/n decided to take matter in her own hands… literally. She got closer to Naomi and took their face into their hands, pulling them in for a kiss. The kiss was short and sweet, and Y/n pulled away to see what reaction that had elicited from Naomi. They just stared at Y/n with a look of shock on their face, that didn’t last so long, as their brain decided to finally act. Naomi took Y/n face in her hands and kissed her again, now deepening the kiss. The moment under the rain seemed to last forever, as both their hearts synchronized in loud thumps. When they finally pulled away from one another, the rain kept pouring over them with an astounding force that seemed to mimic the strength of their feelings for one another. They were both soaked as they stood outside of Y/n’s house, smiling to each other like the infatuated idiots that they were.

          “I liked the flower” Naomi said, still not getting away from one another. Y/n laughed, touching her forehead with Naomi’s. “It was not as subtle as I intended it to, I guess” she said, making Naomi laugh now. “I liked it better that way” they voiced, giving a small kiss to the side of Y/n lips. It that was a dream, they both hope they would never wake up.