#SUCCESSION SUNDAY IS FUCKING HERE ARE WE SEATED.

[shivroy]

the mortal wounding of the princess of scots, god be with ye

artist's statement: siobhan roy, in antiquated but historically-indistinct and provocative dress, is shown being fatally impaled through the skull by her whimsical, treacherous steed and beast of burden, tom wambsgans. her attire, as with her relationship, is both affixed in and apart from time: it alludes to an era which it does not belong to. tom and shiv are a contemporary couple, but figuratively engage in an antiquated, eternal dynamic wherein the male asserts dominance over the female through violence, delivered in the show in the form of betrayal. however, references to active movement in the falling of dripping blood indicate to the viewer the dynamism of this relationship, which could seemingly change in the following moment, were time allowed to resume. the absurd and comical image of tom as a unicorn, with equine lashes and sparkling eyes, is contrasted with the brutality of his actions against shiv, making evident the fact that he is not to be underestimated. the disarming sexual innuendo - the act of penetration, as tom "fucks" shiv, and the froth pouring from his mouth, an allusion to tom swallowing his own ejaculate at his bachelor party and an additional symbol of both his rabid defiance and affection for himself and his own ambitions - adds to the potent discomfort of the moment. tom's ears are flattened back in aggression and shiv bleeds profusely, yet both wear serene smiles, not allowing the other to win in spite of the pain of being respectively owned by his wife and murdered by her husband. tom, despite it all, looks to shiv, his master whom he has defied, and shiv looks outwards, forcing herself into a position of unwavering invulnerability in the face of her ending. "god be with ye" is a helpless prayer for the doomed spouses, and a parting message: "god be with ye" is shortened in modern english to "goodbye". goodbye soon, shiv and tom, i will always love you. ❤️

[darkwolf989]

Outside the office Part Three

Hi all! I'm so glad folks are enjoying this series! Let me know in the comments if there is a particular scene you would like expanded on- I am happy to obilige!

That following Sunday morning breakfast also proved mandatory. Snuggled tight in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows, I was sound asleep when a loud knocking rudely startled me awake. A brief moment of panic settled over me and it took a heartbeat for me to remember where I was. Unfortunately, I once again couldn’t remember exactly how I had gotten here, or how I had come to be dressed in fuzzy pajamas. 

“Reader! Wake up! Val made pancakes and they’re getting cold!” Velvette’s screech broke through the silence of the morning. 

I groaned but sat up, pulling a robe over my body as I made my way to the door. “What is going on?”

Velvette was dressed in a deep black robe covered with red fuzzy hearts- her typical morning attire. “I said, Val made pancakes and they’re getting cold. Com’on sleepy head. Val’s pancakes are the best cure for a hangover.” She turned and practically skipped down the hallway. 

I followed her, my head still fuzzy from the night before. We had spent Saturday night out at another one of Valentino’s clubs, dancing and drinking- and I guess once again I sipped too much too fast. 

“And pancakes for you.” Vox handed me a plate as soon as I entered the kitchen. “How’s that head feel, hm? Grab a bottle of Sweet Sixteen from the fridge and drink it down.”

I grabbed a bottle of the orange drink from the fridge. Why Velvette and Valentino had named it Sweet Sixteen was beyond me, but whatever was in it helped tremendously.

“I don’t understand why I get knocked on my ass each time I go out.” I complained, sitting down on one of the chairs at the table, my back to the window. “I swear, angels drink. Some of them pretty heavily, might I add.”

“Did you dance at the club while drinking?” Velvette asked, taking a bit of her breakfast. “In heaven, I mean?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Angels do not partake in such behavior.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, good thing you’re only half Angel, because last night showed you certainly do. Anyway, there's your answer- you dance, you drink. It’s simple math.”

“And that simple math is why my clubs are so successful.” Valentino slid into the seat next to me. He reached across and opened the bottle of Sweet Sixteen for me. “Drink. You’ll feel better.” 

“What’s in it anyway?” I asked, taking a sip before taking a bite of my pancakes. “Oh, these are yummy.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Vox bowed before taking his own seat. “I am, after all, the best chef in this household.”

“I don’t think so. I’ll get you back next Sunday.” Valentino said lightly. “And to answer your question Princessa- salt, water, sugar, electrolytes. Everything your body lacks after a night out.”

“Speaking of, can I tell you about fucking Hugo last night? That absolute dumb fuck….” Vox interrupted as he launched into a tirade about his current assistant. I listened patiently. Velvette seemed to tune him out and Valentino rolled his eyes. 

After breakfast it was back to work for the three of them and I found my place wherever I could make myself useful. Being in such close proximity to them made it almost easy to forget they were demons- especially with Velvette and Vox. 

“Are you joining me in the studio today, Princess?” Vox asked when I stood up. “Or will Velvette be hogging you once again?”

I looked at Velvette and she shrugged. “Your choice, but I absolutely need you back tomorrow. I have a new line of workwear that absolutely require your features.” 

“Alright, I guess I’m yours then, Vox.” I replied, then quickly corrected. “Not yours I mean, I can go with you to the studio.”

“Relax, babe. We all know what you meant.” Valentino said gently. 

I flushed. “Just making sure. I better go get ready.”

“My studio after your shower! I have a killer outfit for you.” Velvette hollered as I skittered down the hall. 

An hour and a half later I stepped out of the elevator and into Vox’s studio. True to her word, Velvette had me dressed in the height of what hell considered fashion, heavy on the blacks and the reds. I made my way to Vox’s office, stepping down the long hallway that led to his chair, surrounded by monitors. 

To my surprise, he wasn’t in his usual spot. I pulled out my phone and sent him a message. He replied back instantly. 

I see you. Look to the left. Black door. Just come in. 

I followed his directions and pushed open the door. He stood up when I walked in and handed me a laptop. 

“Go find a quiet place to work. I don’t particularly care where, but if you could read through and edit the documents on your email that would be great. Text me when you’re done- I’ll come to you.” 

I accepted the laptop and went to find an empty cubicle. When Vox initially asked where my skill sets lie, and the topic of editing came up, I didn't expect him to take me up on it. Or to value my input as much as he appeared to. But truth be told, it was something I enjoyed and, well, it was something to keep me busy. 

Several hours later I emailed him the edits, closed my laptop, and sent him a text message that I was finished. I heard the zap of electricity behind me and he appeared. 

“Ah. Good timing, I’m almost done for the day as well. Why don’t you head down to see Velvette? Have lunch down there and get ready for dinner tonight?” He picked up my laptop. “Come, I’ll walk you to the elevator.” 

“Okay, Vox.” 

I followed him and waited quietly next to him when he pushed the button. A few seconds later, I stepped in. 

He gave me a grin as the door closed. “See you tonight Princess.” 

I stepped into Velvette’s studio and one of her employees greeted me, whisking me to the back. She chattered at me about outfit changes, nail color changes, what was trending at the moment, and what wasn’t. 

“Wait,” I interrupted. “What is a sinstergram?”

Her eyes widened. “Omgomgomg.” she pulled her phone out and showed me an icon. She clicked on it and a website full of pictures appeared. “You don’t have one?” 

I hadn’t actually explored my phone that much- beyond texting. Typing on a laptop was easy- other than its more ergonomic design, it was basically the same as the one I was used to. But my phone was a big mystery I just hadn’t solved yet.  I unlocked my phone and saw the icon she was talking about. I clicked it.

Pictures flooded my screen- a photo of Lucifer and I when we first arrived in the lobby of the V tower. Pictures of the four of us on our night out. Captions I didn’t remember writing. 

“See your handle? It’s Princess.Reader. Morningstar . Not the most original, but I’m sure you wanted to keep it simple and straight to the point.” 

“Keep what simple?” Velvette’s voice came from behind me. 

“Sinstergram?” I showed Velvette my phone. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh. You don’t need to worry about that darling, I control the social media for the four of us. You couldn’t post if you tried- Vox has it blocked. You can scroll through, however. See yourself how the world sees you.”

I scrolled down through the pictures. I almost didn’t recognize myself. In every photo I looked perfect, stunning. Almost too perfect. I expressed my concern to Velvette and she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s the image you show the world, not the truth behind it. But like I said, don’t worry your pretty blonde head about it.” She reached over and clicked off the app. “I got it covered. You just focus on being pretty.” She looked at her employee. “Veronica, take Chelsea’s place. I need you in my office.”

Wordlessly, they switched places and I watched as Chelsea followed Velvette. 

“Velvette wanted bubblegum pink nails?” Veronica asked, reaching across the table. “Let me see those hands. We’ll make them perfect.” 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. And then again. The more time passed, the more my comfort level with the three of them grew. I wouldn’t say I forgot about where I came from, or who I left behind. But the more hours spent together, the more normal our weekly routine became. Occasionally, Velvette or Vox would excuse themselves for the night for a work event, or a fashion show- and just the three left went out. It wasn’t very often, but the disruption didn’t break the rest of the routine. They would simply rejoin the next night, or sometimes find us later on that same night. 

Spending the time alone with Vox and Velvette in particular made them seem- well, safe. More like friends than demons. And although I didn’t spend any time alone with him, the more Wednesdays that passed, I found myself settling into Valentino’s arms as the movies played, craving the comfort and safety he freely offered. Even as I started to figure out my limits and  I didn’t always drink too much at the club, at the end of the night, my head fell into his lap, his hand stroking my hair. Something about the way he held me relieved the worry that even the time we spent together couldn’t fully shake.

It wasn’t until Vox and Velvette both bowed out of dinner one night that I first got to spend alone time with Valentino.

[newtonsheffield]

sending this a little early because i always forget to on sunday but can we get something spicy from the like a hurricane verse? maybe kate decides to return the favor and get on her knees for anthony?

Ahhh Kate, we talk a lot about how hurricane Anthony is an unhinged slut for Kate but she's just as unhinged as he is.

Kate could feel it burning in her chest. She'd felt it from the minute she'd stood in Anthony's dressing room tonight, watching him slip out of the clothes he'd arrived in, slipping into the shirt she'd pulled from her own closet and torn in half, torn off the sleeves until his abdominal muscles were on show and his biceps bulged.

She hadn't ever thought of herself as a possessive person. But she hadn't been dating one of the most famous people in the world then, she supposed. It was everywhere, she couldn't even go on instagram without seeing a photo from one of the thousand fan accounts dedicated to him. And it would have been unnerving, the fact that Anthony could jump off the stage this very second and find fifteen people willing to go home with him. But there was something so absolutely sure about Anthony. There'd never been a moment's doubt in his affection from the moment he'd stood on that stage and shouted that he loved her. But something in her still burned to mark him.

She'd found herself in a tattoo parlour the day after they'd gotten together shaking her head

"You're fucking insane."

Anthony had clicked his tongue, his hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, walking her forward "It's kind of hot though right? That I'm absolutely balls out for you."

"It is a little hot."

"Jack! Mate!" Anthony had called out a little smuggly, "Got a job for you!"

Jack had rolled his eyes, "Don't you always?"

"My girl here got a little hungry last night and took a bite out of me-"

"Gross." Kate had muttered though her chin had tilted a little proudly.

"-And I'm looking to immortalise it."

She watched as Jack had shaken his head wiping down his table. "Alright get over here."

"Oh Wait! She also wants to tattoo me! You cool if she gives me a little corgi?"

"Jesus, why fucking not?"

It was right there, right at the base of his neck where her teeth had bitten into him in surprise when she'd fallen apart for the third time in quick succession. And it was inked on his skin forever. And everything about it, everything about Anthony made her burn for him. Everything about the fact that thousands of people screamed his name and his new title as sexiest man alive, and the fact that thousands of people wanted what was hers made her want him even more.

"Do I not look fucking good tonight?!" Anthony's voice boomed over the crowd.

"He's so fucking stupid."

"Don't act like this doesn't turn you on just a little." Sophie rolled her eyes from her spot beside Kate.

"It does, it actually really does."

"Should we bring my girl out for this last song?!"

The crowd roared its approval as Anthony turned towards her, "Kate! Come on out Babe!"

Kate sighed standing from her seat.

"Just remember, when you go out: Anthony's mic is live. No more telling him you'll let him motorboat you." Violet said dryly.

"Yes, I'm still scarred from that." Hyacinth snipped.

Kate rolled her eyes and walked out into the bright lights as people screamed but she could only see Anthony grinning at her, crouching down.

"Let's give her the best seat in the house!" He hauled her onto his shoulders and let her fingers twist in his hair and the entire time he sang she burned.

The minute Anthony close the door on his dressing room Kate pounced on him.

She let her hands close around his shirt, tugging him down to meet her lips claiming his possessively. A sharp moan fell from Anthony's chest as he relaxed against her, letting his body press hers into the door that had shut seconds before. Their lips were moving roughly together teeth nipping, tongues tangling filthily as Anthony's hips started to grind against hers, the weight of his body warm and familiar against hers.

Anthony's hands started to slide up her legs, nudging them apart and almost everything in her wanted to let him but that wasn't what she'd wanted when she'd tugged him inside. What she wanted was to see him helpless against the pleasure she was giving to him. To hear Anthony gasp her name and writhe against her.

Kate pushed back on his shoulders chuckling as Anthony let out a whine, his lower lip pouting. "But I know you aren't wearing knickers."

Kate clicked her tongue flicking her hair over her shoulder "I know but that's not what I want."

Anthony wiggled his eyebrows, sticking his tongue out. "Oh Yes, please."

Kate shook her head again, pushing on his shoulders until he was sat on the sofa in the corner.

"Oooo cowgirl hey? Love that for me."

Kate rolled her eyes, letting herself straddle him, something flickering possessively in her chest as his hands settled on her arse encouraging her hips against him.

Kate felt her own moan building in her chest as her lips fell to his neck, nipping at the tattooed mark she'd left there.

"I don't want that either."

Anthony's moan hummed through his chest as she let her lips trailed down his chest until she slid off his lap kneeling in front of him.

"Oh fuck."

Anthony's head fell backwards as her fingernails scratched at the the skin just above his waistband popping the button free.

"You looked fucking hot tonight."

Anthony's shoulders were already heaving and she hadn't even touched him yet and something powerful settled over her as she ducked her head.

Jesus fuck!

It fell from Anthony's mouth at the same time a moan fell from her chest at the taste of him on her tongue. Anthony was already writhing underneath her, his skin shivering as her fingernails scratched against his thighs and everything seemed to narrow to this point. Just the two of them. Anthony's hands had tangled in her hair, gently sweeping in back, holding it for her as she moved over him gently. Caring for her even now, even in this.

The gasps and moans falling from his lips seemed to be thickening the air around them, tension rippling around them as her name fell from Anthony's chest like a tortured moan again and again tugging her forward, drawing her in.

"Kate, please. Oh God! Fuck! Babe! Fuck you look incredible like that! Fuck I love you. Kate- Babe I'm gonna- Fuck!

Kate!

Her name roared through the dressing room as warmth flooded her mouth and his entire body shuddered under her hands.

"Holy fuck." Anthony tugged her to her feet dragging her lips back to his, kissing the end of her nose lightly as he pulled back. "I'm so in love with you."

"I know, I'm pretty great." Kate said a little smugly, tossing her hair.

"You. Are. Getting. Head." Anthony groaned, rolling them as his lips found her neck, tugging her shirt down.

"Kate! Stop making Anthony make those noises the car's here!" Sophie's tired voice called out.

"Car head it is then!" Anthony growled, throwing Kate over his shoulder, crossing the room in three quick strides throwing the door open.

"Soph! So sorry to keep you waiting! Off we pop!"

"useless!" Sophie hissed at Kate who was smiling apologetically at Sophie as Anthony walked forward, still dangling of his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Sorry!"

"No you aren't!"

[rpf-bat]

❝  i used to have so much faith.  maybe not in deities or something but,  in the world.  the universe.  i believed their was a purpose to it all.  i’m not sure when i lost that.  ❞ ?

I went with Joel/Samy. :)

Joel cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella, as he sloshed through the streets of Stuttgart. This whole day was fucking cursed.

Olli had decided to go sightseeing first thing this morning. The bassist had woken Joel up, and asked if he wanted to join him.

Angry about being roused after only a few, fitful hours of sleep, Joel had snapped at his friend, and refused. Olli had looked so crestfallen. Now, Joel felt guilty as fuck.

This is why nobody likes me, he thought miserably, as the cold rain soaked through his clothes. Someone tries to be nice and include me in something, and I pay him back by being a jerk.

Aleksi and Olli had left the bus without him, hours ago. He thought if he started walking in the general direction they had gone, he could find them, and apologize.

But he had no idea where his bandmates were. He had been walking for what seemed like forever, but he hadn’t run into them. Now, he was cold, wet, and lost, in an unfamiliar German city.

And we have sound check soon! Joel thought, wanting to cry. If I’m late for that, Niko will yell at me….

He realized, after a moment, that he should probably take shelter somewhere, until the rain stopped. Shivering, he took a look at his surroundings.

He realized he was standing in front of a Roman Catholic cathedral. Based on the architecture, it was probably hundreds of years old.

I guess that’ll have to work, he decided, wiping his eyes. It’s Tuesday, not Sunday, so hopefully nobody will be there…

He knew he looked pathetic, and he didn’t really want to be seen by anyone right now.

But, when he pushed the heavy doors open, he found one, single person, sitting in the otherwise unoccupied pews. And, unfortunately, it was someone he knew.

“….Samy?” Joel blinked in surprise, recognizing that distinctive blue head of hair instantly.

“Huh?” Samy blinked, twisting around in his seat, to face the sound of his name being called. “Joel? What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Joel said honestly. “I didn’t peg you for the Christian type.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Samy shook his head. “Most of my family is Muslim, but I’m not…anything, really. Haven’t been for a while.”

“Yeah, same here,” Joel nodded, plopping down in the pew beside his friend. “I mean, I grew up Lutheran, but now I don’t believe in anything.”

“Well…,” Samy hesitated. “I guess I do believe in some things. Like, I have faith in destiny.”

“Destiny?” Joel repeated.

“Yeah,” Samy nodded seriously. “Like. I’m meant to be a musician. And I was meant to meet you, so that me and my band, could have this opportunity, to be on this tour right now.”

“Wow,” Joel blinked. “I guess I admire you, for having so much faith, that the universe wants your band to succeed. I mean…I used to have so much faith.  Maybe not in deities or something but, in the world. The universe.  I believed their was a purpose to it all.  I’m not sure when I lost that.”

“I think it’s easy to lose faith, when you have to struggle so much, to get your band off the ground,” Samy commiserated. “Like, if this was meant to be, why hasn’t it happened yet?”

“Right, exactly,” Joel nodded. “I think Niko said it best: it took us eight years to become an overnight success.”

“You did it, though,” Samy pointed out. “Your band is huge now. Way bigger than mine, to be honest.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Joel reassured him. He hadn’t realized how close he was sitting to the other man, but now he could feel their hands brushing. “I think Lost Society is going to be the next big thing.”

“You really think so?” Samy asked, looking uncertainly, into Joel’s blue eyes.

“Absolutely,” Joel promised. “I see the way our fans react to you guys, when you open for us every night. You’re winning them over. By the end of your set, I think all the girls in the front row fall in love with you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Samy said modestly, his cheeks turning pink.

“….Or maybe that’s just me,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“….Huh?”

“N-Nothing!” Joel stammered. “Anyway. You said you weren’t praying, so why were you sitting here in this church, by yourself?”

“…Oh,” Samy said after a moment. “Um. Don’t laugh at me. But, I called my therapist last night. I told her I was feeling stressed out. She suggested that I go somewhere quiet, and meditate.”

“Oh, shit,” Joel swore. “I’m sorry for interrupting your meditation.”

“No, it’s fine!” Samy smiled. “Talking to you actually made me feel much better.”

“I’m glad,” Joel grinned.

“Anyway,” Samy asked, “what were you doing here?”

“I was looking for Olli, but couldn’t find him,” Joel explained. “So, I snuck in here, to get out of the rain.”

“Oh, I actually saw Olli and Aleksi while I was walking over here!” Samy cried. “They said they were going to a coffee shop down the street. Do you want to go with me, and meet them?”

No way, Joel thought, simply staring for a moment. Maybe there is such a thing as fate.

“….But, I don’t have an umbrella,” he frowned. “If we leave now, I’ll just get soaked again.”

“You can stand under my umbrella, with me,” Samy offered. “If you don’t mind having me in your personal space.”

“No,” Joel beamed, his face feeling warm all of a sudden. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”



[sisterspooky1013]

More Than A Feeling, Chapter 8

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Sunday begins with a lengthy to-do list of all the tasks they aren’t willing to make time for at the end of long summer days: retouching paint, refurbishing games, deep cleaning and organizing every corner of the show and the accompanying vehicles. Scully, Summer, and Picker empty out the maintenance trailer entirely, then go through its contents to discard anything that’s broken or no longer needed before putting it all back.

Summer teases Scully about her night with Mulder, quietly singing forbidden modern songs about sex and thrusting her hips with wagging eyebrows.

“I’ve got plans to put my hands in places I’ve never seen, girl you know what I mean,” she coos, stepping up behind Scully and touching her hips. Scully swats her away, shaking her head.

Mulder scrapes grease from the walls of the cook trailer while Madge scrubs out the refrigerator, and they put together a shopping list for Tami and Jean so they can prepare a feast for the crew’s dinner.

“Do you like to dance, Buddy Boy?” Madge asks him as she swipes sweat from her brow.

“I do, actually,” Mulder answers truthfully.

“There’s going to be a lot of dancing tonight,” Madge says with a smile. “You can show that little lady of yours a good time.”

Mulder furrows his eyebrows, realizing he’s never seen Scully dance. He’s caught her wiggling her hips to the beat of the music a couple times when she didn’t know he was watching, but certainly never outright dancing.

“I don’t know if Penny likes to dance,” he says.

“Well, who could resist dancing with you?” she says fondly, and his cheeks warm.

By the time everything is back in its proper place and the smells from the promised feast are wafting over the fairgrounds, it’s past 8:00 pm. Picker has carefully assembled the makings for an enormous bonfire fifty yards or so from the bunkhouse, and everyone has taken turns grabbing a shower to wash away the grime of the day.

When Scully arrives at the cook trailer, there are cans of cheap beer lined up down the center of every picnic table. Nearby, a buffet of ribs, corn on the cob, watermelon, and every other summer barbeque staple is set up on folding tables. She glances down at her outfit, smoothing her hands over the front of the dress that Summer insisted she borrow, and joins the line for food.

“Wow,” she hears Mulder say from over her shoulder, and she turns to see him eyeing her appreciatively. “You look great,” he says, and she feels a flutter in her belly.

“Thanks,” she replies demurely, flashing her eyes over his snug jeans and fitted T-shirt.

Plates are piled high and everyone takes their seats, squished shoulder to shoulder as they max out the capacity of the picnic tables. Mulder eats with his left hand to avoid bumping her with his elbow, and their unused arms lie pressed together on their respective laps.

“No Miranda?” someone asks the group, and Tami shakes her head in frustration.

“Fucking flaked out on us,” she says with irritation, and Rachel looks contrite, though she certainly isn’t culpable for Miranda’s behavior.

As people finish their meals, Jean clears away their plates excitedly, setting out a handful of pocket knives on the ends of the tables. A feeling of anticipation settles over the group, and Scully gives Mulder a questioning look that he answers with a shrug.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Jean says, clapping her hands to draw everyone’s attention. “It’s Dadeville week, and we are so happy to have you all here with us. You’ve worked hard today to get this show in top condition, and you bring your best to work every day of the summer to make it a success. Tami and I couldn’t do this without you, and, as is tradition, we like to take this night off in Dadeville to show you just how much we appreciate you.”

“We’re doing it up big this year, y’all,” Tami says as she reaches into a backpack and starts to pull out plastic bags and toss them onto the tables.

The group gasps and cheers as baggies containing white powder, green buds of marijuana, and a rainbow assortment of pills scatter across the table tops. Scully’s eyes go wide and she turns to look at Mulder. He gives her a slight nod, something only she could interpret to mean “it’s okay.”

“Let’s kick it off right!” Jean says, picking up one of the beers and a pocket knife. She stabs the can near the bottom and brings it to her lips, then pops the tab on the top. Everyone begins to do the same, passing around the pocket knives as they shotgun their first beer of the night.

“Have you ever shotgunned a beer?” Mulder asks quietly, clearly with the intention of helping her, and she scoffs. She’s not entirely sure when and how he got the impression that she’s led a straight-edge life, and she’s never bothered to correct him, but it suddenly strikes her as offensive that he would think she’s never shotgunned a beer.

Summer passes her the pocket knife and she punctures the base of the can, pressing her lips to the hole she made and then popping the tab. She tilts her head back and opens her throat, draining the beer in less than ten seconds. When she’s finished, she sets the can down and hides a burp behind her hand.

Mulder doesn’t say anything, and she looks over to find a stunned but impressed expression on his face, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly agape.

“I stand corrected,” he stammers, then downs his own beer before belching loudly.

“Get ready for the long haul, folks!” Tami hollers over the din. “Drink plenty of water and don’t do anything stupid. This shit can kill you, but we sure hope it doesn’t.”

-

He’s having a hard time not staring at her.

That little blue sundress with tiny yellow flowers hits halfway up her thigh, exposing most of her back and a generous amount of cleavage. From what he can tell, it’s not the kind of dress you can wear a bra with.

They’ve been milling around, sipping at their beers to keep up the appearance that they’re fully partaking in the fun, chatting with members of the staff who they don’t have occasion to cross paths with easily. The sun is fading over the edge of the horizon, and Picker is getting ready to start the fire.

“Here, let me give you a hand,” Mulder says, grabbing a stack of newspapers from under Picker’s arm.

“Grassy-ass,” Picker says, intentionally butchering the Spanish language.

They hunker down beside a five foot tall teepee made of sticks and begin crumpling up the newspapers before stuffing them at the base of the intended fire. Mulder spots a tattoo of a pinup girl in a sailor’s uniform on the inside of Picker’s forearm and sees an opening.

“Were you in the military?” Mulder asks casually, gesturing to the tattoo.

“Yessir, Navy,” Picker replies.

“You ever deploy?”

Picker looks over at him, considering him for a beat.

“Vietnam,” he finally says. “I was twenty-one years old. Just a kid.”

There’s a touch of regret in his voice, and Mulder decides to pursue it.

“That must have been hard. Fighting in an unjust war, I mean,” he says, keeping his tone somewhat neutral.

Picker chucks a ball of newspaper at the fire and sniffs. There’s a stretch of silence that tells Mulder the topic wasn’t one he should have broached.

“I was brown water fleet,” Picker says suddenly, and Mulder keeps his eyes on the bonfire in hopes that he’ll keep talking. “We ran a checkpoint for a while, searching civilians to make sure they weren’t transporting weapons or anything up north.”

“What did you do if you did find weapons?” Mulder asks.

“Killed ‘em, sank their sampans,” Picker says flatly, and Mulder steals a glance at him. His expression is neutral, unaffected.

“That sounds…traumatizing, honestly,” he comments, and Picker turns toward him slowly.

“Just following orders,” Picker says levelly before he stands. “I think this bitch is ready to light,” he then says, much more animatedly. He gives Mulder a gummy grin and hands him a lighter. “You go ahead and do the honors, Luke.”

-

Scully excuses herself to the donnikers, pouring three-quarters of her beer into the toilet behind closed doors and tugging on the hem of her dress futilely.

She felt okay with it when she put it on, pretty even, but every time Mulder’s eyes wander down to her bare thighs she feels self-conscious, like he’s judging her. This thought then makes her angry, given his propensity for walking around shirtless, and she convinces herself once again that her outfit is fine.

She drinks the remnants of her beer as she re-joins the conversation she’d stepped away from, making a point to go and get another from the cooler before she sits back down. As far as anyone else is concerned, she’s three beers deep. Tami is seated in a camp chair before a small folding table, and Jean is carefully separating what Scully assumes is cocaine into neat lines in front of her.

“Only in Dadeville,” Tami says with a proscribed shake of her head.

Someone produces a twenty dollar bill that is rolled into a tight tube. Tami does the first line, pinching her nose closed and grimacing before handing the bill to Jean, who does the same. When there is one line left on the table top, Summer offers the bill to Scully.

“No thanks,” Scully says lightly, making sure that she doesn’t reveal any judgment in her face or voice.

“Only in Dadeville,” Summer says in a singsong voice, wiggling the bill in an effort to tempt her.

“That’s my problem,” Scully says, thinking fast. “It wouldn’t only be in Dadeville for me. I had a hard time kicking that daily habit and it’s not something I’d like to go through again, to be perfectly honest.”

Jean holds her hands up contritely.

“Say no more, Penny,” she says emphatically, then pats Tami on the back. “Tami won’t touch booze for the same reason. We respect sobriety here, no matter your drug of choice.”

Scully has half a mind to question how respectful it is to hand out drugs and alcohol like candy around addicts in recovery, but she’s achieved her goal of diverting attention away from her lack of partaking, so she lets it rest.

Tami begins telling animated stories, her hands flying as she describes pot-bellied rubes starting fist fights with ride jocks, and one occasion where the kissing booth girl gave a local cop a blow job to get them off the hook after Lenny gaffed a game that the cop’s kid wasted half a yard on.

“And then last year, fucking Dylan grabbed this girl’s ass right in front of her dad,” Tami says, her eyes wet with tears of laughter. Scully perks up hearing the name, and leans into the conversation. “And I swear to God almighty that kid shit himself on the spot. The girl told her dad she didn’t mind and they went on their way, but lord I thought Dylan was about to meet his maker that day.”

“Dylan, that was the kid who got fired last summer?” Scully asks Summer just loudly enough for Tami to hear.

“Gazooooonieeeeee,” Jean says with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Even if he hadn’t been a drug-dealing piece of shit, we would have let him go at the end of the week. Lazy ass motherfucker.”

Tami’s demeanor shifts to one much more stoic than it had been moments before.

“I don’t think Dylan was a bad kid,” she says, directing her words to Scully. “I think he didn’t have anybody around to teach him right from wrong. But he was always late, always pissing off the customers, and when Madge caught him dealing, that was it.”

“It was Madge who reported it?” Scully asks, and Tami nods slowly.

“She had a good view of the bunkhouse from the cook trailer, and young girls always seemed to be wandering in there, then wandering back out an hour later high as a damn kite.”

“And what happened? After you let him go, I mean.”

“Not much,” Jean says flatly, already sprinkling a fresh pile of cocaine on the table top and forming lines with a credit card. “Still saw his dumb ass every day until we left town. He said his mommy would be mad if she knew he got fired, so he just hung around and bugged the shit out of everyone until we closed at night.”

“Was he around for slough?” Scully asks, and Tami narrows her eyes.

“No,” she says, then pauses a beat. “What’s got you so interested in Dylan, Penny? He a friend of yours?”

A hot wash of adrenaline floods Scully’s nervous system, and she tries to play it cool.

“No, I was just curious, I guess.” Clambering for some way to divert attention away from herself, she turns to Summer and says, “I mean, you keep this asshole around, so it makes me wonder how bad someone would have to be before you’d actually fire them before the week was over.”

The group bursts out into surprised laughter at her uncharacteristic dig, and the moment passes.

_

The bonfire is roaring, and everyone moves closer to it as the chill of the night sets in. Camp chairs are arranged in a semi-circle facing the fire, and music blares from the speakers set up at the front of the fair. Mulder finds an empty seat beside Summer and slumps into it, looking around in search of Scully.

“Where’s Penny?” he asks Summer, and she gives him a cheeky smile.

“Donnikers. That’s her seat you’re sitting in, mister.”

He shrugs, taking the beer that Picker offers him and surreptitiously dumping half of it in the grass after he takes a sip.

He sees Scully approaching from the other side of the fire, her fair skin lit up in flashes of orange that makes her hair look like it’s part of the flame. As she gets close enough to make him out in the low light, she tilts her head and levels him with a stern expression.

“That’s my seat, Luke,” she says accusingly as she comes to stand in front of him.

“Did you call ‘spot back’ before you left?” he asks, and is delighted when she tries unsuccessfully to keep the smile off her mouth.

“Of course,” she says emphatically, and Summer shakes her head, pulling her beer away from her mouth and saying, “Bullshit.”

“Whose side are you on?” Scully snipes at her, and Summer holds her hands up defensively.

“The side of the truth, my lady. I’m always on the side of the truth.”

Mulder holds up his hand and Summer accepts the offer, slapping her palm against his in a high-five.

“To the truth!” he says triumphantly, and Summer answers, “Here, here!”

“Well, regardless of that fact, that’s still my seat,” Scully says, and Mulder pats the tops of his thighs.

“Best seat in the house,” he says fondly, and her expression falters a little before she smiles thinly, then slowly turns around and sits gingerly in his lap.

She’s light as a feather, and he wraps one arm around her waist to tug her closer to his torso. She stiffens briefly but then relaxes, and he rubs his other hand over the tops of her arms.

“Cold?” he asks softly, and she nods.

Picker dances his way towards them with a joint held between his thumb and forefinger, singing, “Pass the dutchie ‘pon the left hand side, pass the dutchie ‘pon the left hand side.”

He hands the joint and a lighter to Mickey, who takes his time passing the flame back and forth over the tip until he’s successfully stoked a bright orange ember. He takes a hit and holds his breath as he passes the joint to Tami. It travels down the line, finally arriving at Summer, who takes two generous hits before she holds it out to Mulder.

Mulder takes the joint, and Scully’s eyes widen as he begins to bring it to his lips. He pauses, moving his hand away before he tucks his face into her neck, dropping kisses up to her ear and then whispering, “They already think I smoke, it’ll look weird if I don’t.”

He keeps his face there momentarily, smelling the traces of shampoo and soap lingering on her skin and hair. He pulls in a deep breath and sighs as he releases it, then finally pulls away. She blinks at him with half-lidded eyes, then turns to look at the fire.

He brings the joint back to his lips and sucks in what he hopes is a small amount of smoke. He intends to hold it in his mouth and not inhale, Bill Clinton style, but muscle memory gets the better of him and his lungs burn at the unfamiliar substance. He coughs violently, startling Scully and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. She hands him her beer and he takes a large swig, which definitely doesn’t help. Though his throat is on fire, the coughing subsides, and he passes the joint to Lenny.

“You holding out on your girl, Luke?” Lenny asks, gesturing to Scully.

Mulder shakes his head.

“She’s never smoked pot,” he says huskily, and Scully shifts sideways on his lap to give him a pointed look.

“What makes you say that?” she asks in a moderately annoyed tone, and he shrugs.

“It just—doesn’t seem like something you’d do?” he tries, but it comes out as a question.

Truthfully, he’s never considered whether Scully has ever smoked pot. As far as he’s aware, the most rebellious thing she’d ever done before meeting him was sneak out past curfew.

Scully narrows her eyes and considers him for a beat, then reaches out to take the joint from Lenny. Holding Mulder’s eye, she pulls in a long drag, then purses her lips and blows a perfect smoke ring right at his face, and he grimaces when it lands against his nose.

“Point taken,” he says as he fans away the smoke, and she passes the joint back to Lenny, smiling victoriously.

-

The first hit was ill-advised, but the second hit was a mistake. The third only happened because of the first two, and the half-drunk beer she now holds in her hand isn’t helping. She’s high as a goddamn kite.

She smiles, stuffing her bottom lip between her teeth to try and hide it, and Summer jabs her with an elbow.

“Whatcha smirkin’ at over there, Stoner Sally?” Summer asks playfully, and Scully opens her eyes wider, realizing that they are nearly shut.

“I’m just…enjoying my evening,” Scully answers, thoughts dropping through her mind like water through a sieve as she tries to remember exactly what she’s supposed to be doing, and why she’s sitting in a field with a bunch of carnies by a bonfire.

“I bet you are,” Summer says with a smile.

Mulder wandered off some time ago with Picker, Tami, and a handful of others who were giggling conspiratorially. It seems like he’s been gone quite some time, but perhaps it’s only been a few minutes. She looks to the fire and gets lost in the flickering of the flame, falling into somewhat of a trance as she thinks about earlier that day when Mulder kissed her in the Midway, and the little hum that rumbled in his chest. She wanted so badly to keep kissing him, to pull him behind the goldfish joint and run her hands up under his T-shirt, to pop the button on his fly and slide her hand under his boxers. Every time he kisses her she later finds that her panties are wet, and they’re wet again now just thinking about it.

“Oh my fucking god,” Summer says with a laugh, pulling Scully from her daydream.

She follows Summer’s eyes to where a line of people are filing out of Tami’s trailer. There’s a cowboy, a police officer, a soldier, a construction worker, a biker, and a Native American chief. As they come closer, Scully recognizes the police officer as Lenny, the biker as Tami, the construction worker as Mickey, the soldier as Mitch, the Native chief as Picker, and lastly the cowboy, who is wearing a leather vest with nothing underneath and matching leather chaps over his jeans, as Mulder. The opening chords of “YMCA” begin to pour from the speakers, and the carny Village People line up to perform a clumsily choreographed routine as everyone shouts and cheers.

Scully cannot make sense of what she’s seeing. Mulder is in hysterics as he attempts to follow the steps of the dance, forming the “C” in YMCA on every chorus before he devolves back into a fit of laughter. Scully holds her hand over her mouth to conceal her grin as secondhand embarrassment warms her cheeks. He looks completely adorable, but also completely ridiculous, and she’s not sure she’s ever found him more attractive than she does right now.

The dance ends, and the Village People collapse on the grass with heaving chests as the crew gives them a standing ovation. The song changes and they slowly crawl to their feet and disperse. Mulder saunters over to her with a shit-eating grin on his face, his eyes no more than slits above his cheeks. When he reaches her, he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around her waist.

“Whatdja think?” he asks with a wag of his eyebrows, and she smiles widely at him.

“That was—really something,” she says, erupting into a fit of giggles that he joins in on.

“I am so fucking high,” he says emphatically, and she only laughs harder. “Come on,” he says as he gets to his feet, offering her his hand. “Let’s dance.”

She doesn’t resist, and she’s not sure her attempt at a doubtful expression makes its way to her face. She can’t stop smiling at him with his cowboy hat and his bare chest, and that impish smile that she loves best glued to his mouth. He wraps one arm around her waist and takes her hand in his, beginning a somewhat offbeat series of dips and twirls around the grassy area beside the fire.

“Ba-dee-ya, say, do you remember? Ba-dee-ya, dancing in September? Ba-dee-ya, never was a cloudy day,” he sings along, pulling her so close her toes barely touch the ground.

He begins to spin and she wraps both her arms around his neck, holding tight as he goes faster and faster. She squeals and laughs, tears gathering in her eyes, and Mulder loses his balance, tumbling gracefully to the ground and breaking her fall with his body. She rests her forearms on his chest and lifts her head, her cheeks aching and her breath ragged. Mulder looks up at her with the most euphoric expression of adoration, his eyes shining in the firelight and his mouth upturned. She’s overcome with affection and attraction, and the feeling of him firm and warm beneath her. She scoots up, her belly sliding over his as she pulls herself close enough to kiss him, open mouthed and hungrily, and with an absolutely impolite amount of tongue.

-

The door crashes open and they fall through it, barely missing the floor as he quickly pivots them toward the bed.

The bunkhouse is even closer to the speakers than the bonfire, and music rumbles through the walls as Scully runs her hands over his belly and chest, pushing his vest off before she shoves him down onto the bed.

I don’t know what I’d do without you babe, don’t know where I’d be. You’re not just another lover, no, you’re everything to me.

Something about the way she looked at him back there, the urgent way she kissed him and pushed her full weight into his lap, made him scoop her up and march across the field toward the bunkhouse. Now that they’re alone, she’s touching every bit of skin she can reach, brushing her thumbs over his nipples and dipping her fingers under the waist of his jeans as she fumbles with the button. He feels both very present and very out of body. The feel of her tongue is a universe in its own, the tickle of her hand sliding down his belly the single best sensation he’s ever experienced. He’s not thinking about it, what they’re doing, he’s just acting on instinct: lifting his hips when she pushes at his unbuttoned jeans, slipping his fingers behind the gusset of her panties and tugging it aside as she lines him up.

I want to kiss you all over, and over again. I want to kiss you all over, til the night closes in.

She’s incredible. The hottest, wettest, tightest—holy fuck. She’s fluttering around him, leaning forward and sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, her hips grinding against him. He reaches up and plucks the straps of her dress off her shoulders, pushing them down her arms until the front of the dress falls away and he can see her breasts.

He almost comes on the spot. He’s thought about Scully’s breasts—a lot—but the live version is far better than his imagination. She sits up and looks at him with a dreamy expression, her little breasts bouncing gently as she rises and falls in his lap. He reaches out tentatively, cupping one in his hand and running his thumb over her rosebud nipple. He feels her clench around him and her eyes slide closed, a whisper of a moan sounding from her lips.

“Scully,” he says, and she opens her eyes, searching his face for a beat before she covers his hand with her own and squeezes.

He sits up, resting his hands on her upper back and dipping his head down to pull her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” she says on a gasp, and her hips begin to flex urgently.

He switches from one side to the other, wishing he could somehow fit both in his mouth at once, while also kissing her, while also fucking her—god he can’t get enough. He pulls her toward him, kissing her deeply as his hands slide down to her asscheeks, encouraging the snap of her hips against his. Suddenly, she stops kissing him, just holds her open mouth against his for a beat before she groans and begins to throb around him.

“Fuck,” he sputters, a crashing wave of pleasure overtaking him, holding him over the edge of a chasm before he falls swiftly to the bottom. It’s so good he can’t think, just feel. Her skin hot against his, and her breath panting against his neck, and the grip of her as she keeps coming for what feels like forever.

Stay with me, lay with me, holding me, loving me, baby. Here with me, near with me, feeling you close to me, baby.

He falls back against the mattress, pulling her down with him. He slips out of her, but she stays put, slowly catching her breath with her cheek resting on his chest. He’s waiting for her to look at him, knowing he’ll be able to tell right away if she regrets it, but she doesn’t. She just lays there, her legs draped over his hips, and eventually he decides that she must have fallen asleep. He smirks to himself, hoping that’s a good sign, and reaches up to stroke her hair as his own eyes begin to grow heavy with dopamine. It feels so good to have her this close, to have done what they just did, and he slips quickly into a deep, contented, dreamless sleep, bass still buzzing through the metal walls of the bunkhouse.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[nhstadler]

A/N: So, I wasn’t going to post this because I wasn’t sure if this scene might give away too much, but since I got a lot of requests to post another James POV and I feel absolutely terrible for not being finished with the new chapter yet (I’m honestly working on it!) I decided to publish this bit here. 

I have a lot of these snippets from James’s POV because it helps me to understand him better and the way he acts, but they are often kind of spoilers for the story so I can’t post all of them. I took out one bigger reveal that I wrote into this scene to not take away from the main story, but I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into James’s story nonetheless.

For orientation purposes: This scene happens after Chapter 38: An Anthology of Almosts, in which Henry Pennington showed up at the Three Broomsticks.

B A T H R O O M F L O O R A E S T H E T I C S

I’m pathetic; like this, slumped over the toilet bowl like a heap of misery, my brain takes delight in throwing tonight’s highlights at me in a never ending sequence of awfulness. Of course she’d end up with someone like Pennington; fucking wholesome, well bred, all-around nice guy Henry Pennington.

Fuck.

“Mate.” Freddie is frowning at me, looking so worried that I instantly want to tell him I’m OK. Unfortunately, the alcohol in my system has other plans.

“Fuck, James, why did you get this shitfaced?” Augustus says when the retching finally subsides and I can rest my cheek against the blissfully cool toilet seat for a minute. I’m fairly certain my exorcism isn’t quite finished yet.

“Fuck off… Like you’re never pissed…” I slur, barely able to keep my eyes open. It’s a dick move to insult my friends when they’re spending the wee hours of their Sunday morning on the cold bathroom floor with me, making sure that I don’t choke on my own vomit, but I’m still too out of it to be even vaguely coherent.

“You’re beyond pissed.”

“Here, drink this.” 

I open my eyes to find Freddie holding a water bottle out to me, but my limbs feel more like decorative appendages at this point. Even reaching for it is an effort - one that is only successful because Freddie practically presses the bottle into my hand -  but I’m unable to bring it to my mouth.

I close my eyes, trying to breathe through a fresh wave of nausea as I let my head drop back against the wall. 

“James! Oi, Jamie!” Freddie’s voice is urgent as he grabs me by my shoulders, shaking me with all the ferocity of a really good friend trying to keep his unsavoury drunk mess of a cousin from slipping into unconsciousness. 

“I’m here.” I force my eyes to open but my head is too heavy to lift. Gravity is pulling on me - smothering me - and all I want to do is to give in and pathetically curl up on the floor until the room stops spinning.

“Remind me again why you did that to yourself?”

I try to focus on Augustus, but he keeps swimming in and out of focus; much like my thoughts, which are scrappy and jumbled and all about Seth. “I should go talk to Woodley.” I peel my back off the wall, just to end up slamming my head against it instead.

“It’s three in the morning, mate.” Freddie has put a hand on my shoulder when I once again try and fail to get to my feet like a confused bird that has crashed into a window. “And you can barely stand. Drink your water, come on.”

“Fucking Merlin, he’s a mess.” I can hear Augustus say in a low voice as I struggle with the water bottle, tipping most of its contents down my chin instead of into my mouth. “Maybe we should get him to Hagrid.”

I shake my head, which is a very bad idea considering everything is already spinning violently around me. “No, I’ll be alright,” I slur, even though it doesn’t feel like I will be at this point, and close my eyes again against my swaying surroundings. “Fuck, why do I feel like shit?”

“Well, you drank half your weight in Fire Whiskey, so…” Someone - I don’t know who - says and I snort, because this is so dumb; all of it. 

I can’t do this. I can’t feel like this every time she looks at me like she knows I’m full of shit. Like all she’s ever going to see in me is a mildly amusing diversion. I’m that guy she drunkenly snogs, not the guy she’d ever smile at like that; like she was smiling at Pennington tonight.  

“I really like her.” I don’t think I meant to say the words out loud, but I can hear them tumble out of my mouth like they’ve been waiting at the tip of my tongue for forever. And though they are slurred and barely intelligible, they are terrifying.

“Yeah, we know.” Freddie sighs and I can feel his hand on my cheek, patting me softly. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

[justaredheadf1fan]

The end is nigh...

There you are! And here I am, late to the party as usual 😂

Yesterday while I was out I obviously missed the press runs so I'm watching them right now.

Also I was seeing all the posts about that dinner that Lewis singlehandedly planned for Sebastian and it's all so cute, seeing them all together having dinner. And apparently so Lewis himself picked up the bill, always the gentleman.

And what about the envelopes Seb gave every single driver? I mean, how can this man keep being such a sweetheart? 🥹

---------------

As I said, I'm watching yesterday's press runs and boy am I sad now. I know Seb is happy, but I can't deal with this. And I know for a fact Lewis is also in denial.

Honestly, someone touches Seb's car even in the slightest on Sunday and I'll murder them in horrible ways. This man needs to go on a high, for fuck's sake 🥲

Lewis looking at Seb while talking all smiley and laughing with Seb. I mean, what they have is genuine and I want that. They're so cute I want to die.

I must admit I was also emotional with Fernando's words, because it's been so many years of the 3 of them battling each other, and still it's gone by so quickly. Even if I dislike him so much, I have to say that I hope not to see Cuntstappen doing donuts with the 3 of them on Sunday for Seb's farewell. It's these 3 guys' thing, honestly.

Interviewer asking Lewis about Abu Dhabi 2021, Jesus really? AND AGAIN!? The audacity of this bitch.

On a funnier note, Charles' face growing a mischievous grin when George was asked about the party on the plane from Brasil to Abu Dhabi is delightful to see. Charles, your inner demon is showing 😂

Daniel talking about how happy he was for George when he won in Brazil is pretty endearing. I think we can all appreciate how their friendship has grown over last year and this year, George being there for Daniel on tough times and Daniel feeling happy for George's success.

Also Danny talking about Seb, how he's being there for him this year in the toughest times, apart from all the moments they lived together as teammates too. Shit this is hitting so hard...

Charles too talking about how good Seb was to him while they were teammates... I'm crying, this is all too much. I can't imagine if I'm like this, first how much I'll cry on Sunday and second how the fans that have been there from Day 1 with Seb must be feeling. This is the worst I can remember since Michael, even though I cried last year with Kimi too.

God and now Mick... He was confirmed yesterday to be out of a seat for next year, which is both awful and ridiculous. I'm so disappointed in Haas. They should've told him a long time ago so that he could score a position elsewhere, but instead they gave him hope and he rejected other possibilities because of said hope to stay in Haas. Yes, I find it hilarious that Kevin will share the team with Nico H. but at this cost... It's a no for me.

Costappen saying he's never been a bad teammate is absolutely hilarious to me. Plus, the comments about how his family's been threatened and so on, saying that receiving all that criticism without all the information both from fans and from the media is ridiculous, when last season he was the first to turn his face away from all the bullying Lewis was getting from his fanbase and just said that it was not his problem. Suck it now, Buttercup.

---------------

Onto FP1 now, starting the last few moments we'll be seeing Seb, Danny and Mick in a F1 car, at least for now (I'm including Seb because I'm delusional too). 8 young drivers took part in FP1 today, except for Kubica. Let's see how they did today.

Poor Pato, bad start with some issue. He had to pit and he's almost dead last after that.

Spanish commentators leaving me speechless today. Lobato criticizing Cuntstappe and RedBull for what happened in Brasil and all the lies. I'm astounded, honestly. This is a first. They've been pro RedBull all the way since the douche became a contender especially for what I can gather, but this gives me a little hope. They finally see who that guy truly is.

The one thing I'm still here waiting for these people to criticize is the things Lewis had to endure last season especially with Fraudstappen's fanbase and RedBull team.

I agree with Lobato that the attitude of the newbies is immaculate, always saying sorry, thanking everyone. Some people should learn, huh?

Sargeant off track after I guess getting confused by Drugovich blocking his tyres. At least it looked that way. but not sure.

Can we talk about the Gaymet this weekend? How wonderful is that helmet?

Now they're talking about how surprised they were to see Lewis that happy for George and that with time and maturity Lewis got more empathetic and a better teammate. I'm talking about Spanish very pro-Alonso commentators, so don't be surprised about any of this.

I slept so little last night and it's already almost 2am so I'm leaving FP2 for tomorrow morning while I have breakfast or prepare my luggage or do something with my life.

I'll post FP2, FP3 and Quali tomorrow, this post is looking long enough as it is anyway.

Peace out!

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part 21

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,856

Warning: Pregnancy, Angst

A week had passed since Cillian found out about the pregnancy and he had been nothing but gentle, helpful and responsive since. Every day, he asked you how you were feeling. He brought you prenatal vitamins and constantly reminded you to drink enough water. He even risked a black eye on several occasions when running into your father who was struggling with the situation and has refused to speak to Cillian again. He was furious and blamed him for everything, thinking that he should have been the responsible adult.

You weren’t sure whether Cillian did all this simply for the fact that you were pregnant or whether he wanted to get back together with you and, whilst you hoped that the latter was true, you wouldn’t make it so easy for him this time around. He had to fight for you if you were what he wanted.

You loved him, but part of the trust you had built throughout your relationship had faded after he pulled away from you for the second time when he faced what you thought were just a few small hurdles. What you didn’t know was that, in fact, the hurdles he was facing, weren’t so small at all. He was deeply conflicted and being with you could cost him much more than his friendship with your father. It could also cost him his career and this was something he began to slowly realise.

***

It was a Sunday afternoon and Cillian was waiting for Nadine, his ex-wife, to pick up the boys from his home.

As usual, she was late and his sons were getting frustrated having to wait around for her once again.

‘This sucks dad’ Charlie growled, causing Cillian to calm him down whilst, deep down inside, he hoped that Nadine would arrive soon as he had invited you over for dinner that evening and, the last thing he wanted, was having you and Nadine in the same room together

Until recently, Nadine had again broken court orders, withholding contact to the boys on several occasions. If it wasn’t for the fact that Charlie had his own mobile phone, Cillian wouldn’t have been able to communicate with them at all for weeks.

It was like a game to her. Whenever Cillian was even remotely happy with someone else, she would come out to play and he soon regretted having given her another chance earlier that year before he took the teaching position in London.

When she found out about you, all hell broke loose. She felt humiliated and embarrassed especially knowing that her attempts to get him back were futile.

And the worst of it all was that she knew about you for a very long time, using you as leverage against Cillian until he finally gave up and let you go.

It was that night, when he called you, breaking up with you when he found out that you were his friend’s daughter, that he slipped. He slipped with Nadine because she was there to pick up the pieces when he was at his worst.

Whilst this little hiccup didn’t result in anything more than a few kisses, it was a mistake and he knew that it was a mistake. The worst of it all was that it gave Nadine hope in a situation where there was none. After all, he loved you and not her.

Of course, Nadine was willing and able to use this against Cillian. She had already threatened him on many occasions to make public the many façades of their marriage and how he chose a young girl over the mother of his children.

This was exactly what his agent was worried about. He knew Nadine for many years and he knew about the skeletons in Cillian’s closet and, whilst there weren’t many, they could become quite scandalous.

Being with you and loving you was too difficult. It was an against all the odds type of situation. A twenty-year age gap was hardly going to be successful. Was he going to risk everything to simply give it a try?

***

Finally, at 6 o’clock, Nadine’s car pulled up in Cillian’s driveway and she quickly jumped out of her seat and ran towards the front door.

‘I am sorry I am late. I got caught up with a friend’ she said in a haste.

‘You could have called’ Cillian then said before allowing her inside.

‘Why, do you have a date?’ she then chuckled, causing Cillian to sigh and call out for the boys.

Just as they emerged from their bedrooms, you also pulled up in the driveway and Cillian immediately knew that this would be problematic.

You noticed Nadine’s car but walked towards the front door of the house anyway and Cillian was quick to let you in after giving you a polite kiss on your cheek.

‘Hey’ you said, greeting Nadine who didn’t bother to say anything to you but, instead, roll her eyes.

‘What is she doing here?’ Nadine then asked Cillian, ignoring your presence.

‘I invited her. Why?’ Cillian asked somewhat annoyed and Nadine immediately huffed in disapproval.

‘I don’t want her to spend time with my children. It sends the wrong message to them’ Nadine explained.

‘And what message may that be Nadine?’ Cillian asked rather irritated before Nadine escalated the situation and, once again, insulted you.

‘You think it’s a good idea to show the boys that this is ok? Being with someone that much younger who clearly isn’t compatible in any sort of way?’ Nadine then said before Cillian told the boys to wait in the car as he didn’t want them to hear the conversation between him and their mother.

‘Can you not do this in front of the children?’ Cillian asked angrily after the boys left with their Gameboys.

‘Do what? You are the one who is fucking a uni student, not me’ she then shouted and it soon became too much for you to listen to.

‘Hey, listen, I am going to go. This is awkward and I don’t want to be in the way, really’ you then said, feeling uncomfortable.

‘Wait on Sweetie. I am not finished’ Nadine said and you turned around at the door, rolling your eyes at her as you did.

‘Did he tell you that, when he visited Dublin a few months ago, he spent time with me? Just the two of us?’ Nadine then asked before telling you how she was very well aware of Cillian’s needs and that you were likely too young and inexperienced for him and he would have realised this by now.

‘Nadine, that’s enough!’ Cillian growled, interrupting Nadine as she went on.

‘I am going’ you then huffed out, irritated and upset. She was taking it too far and you didn’t need this in your life.

‘Y/N, hold on’ Cillian said, trying to hold you back but you shook your head and left. You didn’t want to deal with this.

‘Just remember what I have against you Cillian. Surely, if this becomes public, Y/N might get some ideas. Poor thing, so young and innocent. Also, the boys are staying with me for the next two weeks’ Nadine chuckled somewhat amused.

‘Fuck this, Nadine. I have had enough of this crap. Fucking do it, eh! Send it to the fucking paper just as you have threatened for years. I no longer give a shit and in so far as the boys are concerned, I will be in contact with my lawyer tomorrow. A fit and proper person doesn’t use their children as leverage. Fucking wake up, would you’ Cillian growled before storming outside with the boys’ backpacks and putting them into Nadine’s car before giving each of them a hug and saying goodbye to them.

‘Love you guys, see you on Wednesday’ he said with a warm smile before getting into his own car with the view to drive after you to apologise about Nadine’s behaviour and having you get caught up in this.

***

As expected, just before Cillian arrived at your house, he received a call from his agent Brian who was clearly upset and annoyed.

‘We have a problem Cillian’ he said with an almost terrified voice.

‘I know. Her name is Nadine’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I have seen it. Just then. She sent it to me via email’ Brian said concerned.

‘Did you enjoy it?’ Cillian laughed.

‘You need to take this seriously Cillian. Nadine also told me that you are back with the girl’ Brian then said.

‘She held this against me for fucking years and I played along for the boys’ sake, but I can’t keep going like this’ Cillian then explained, causing Brian to sigh.

‘This and the fact that you are with a 20 fucking something year old who also happens to be your friend’s daughter is a fucking disaster mate. You need to break it off’ Brian argued.

‘She is pregnant’ Cillian then said, knowing that this would annoy Brian even more.

‘You are fucking kidding me. Fuck mate. For your career’s sake you need end it with this girl quietly, pay her, get her to sign an NDA’ Brian explained.

‘No Brian, I won’t be doing any of these things. Let me tell you something. I married Nadine because she was pregnant with Charlie. I never loved her. I simply did what others told me was the right fucking thing to do. This is probably why our relationship was so messed up. I was about to do this again, listening to what others tell me is right or wrong and what is good for me. Listening to you, to Nadine, John and my mother. But, luckily, this time, I just came to my fucking senses’ Cillian said just before he pulled up in front of your apartment building.

‘She is twenty years younger than you, what do you think will happen in twenty years? Will she still be around? Will she be worth all this?’ Brian then asked somewhat upset.  

‘I don’t know, but I am keen to find out’ Cillian said as turned off the car.

‘This could be career suicide Cillian’ Brian said.

‘Perhaps. So, I suggest that you work hard for your commission while you still can and use these connections of yours to make publication of what Nadine has sent you hurt as little as possible’ Cillian chuckled.

‘It’s a sex tape Cillian. What the fuck do you want me to do about it? Censor it?’ Brian asked.

‘If you do, keep the good parts, eh? I need to go’ Cillian said.

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[arrowflier]

Betting on Bullets

Daily Speedwrite, finally stopped keeping count.  I’m sure lots of people have written scenes similar to this, so please let me know if I hit too close to anything existing.  

It was a Sunday afternoon when it happened.  Everyone was at the house for a family dinner--Ian and Mickey included, despite the latter’s protests that better things awaited them at home--and they gathered around the table as the oven timer ticked away.  

Carl was telling some story he heard from his partner about a shootout outside the old Macy’s, complete with his own colorful commentary. 

“Then, POW!” he shouted, jolting back in his seat with the kickback from a fake shotgun.  “Jones got one of ‘em in the leg.”  He relaxed again with a shrug, adding at a normal volume, “other one got away though.”

Mickey hmphed, taking a long sip from the beer bottle he had been dangling from loose fingers.

“Damn cops,” he muttered.

Carl raised an eyebrow at him across the table, ignoring Ian’s headshake and Lip’s widened eyes.

“What?” Mickey asked roughly when he caught the look.  “I said what I said.”

“Bet I woulda taken both of ‘em down,” he challenged.  “Gotta keep criminals off my streets.”

“Here we go,” Tami murmured under her breath, standing and taking Fred from Lip’s arms.  “We’ll be in the other room when you all calm down.”

“Me too,” Liam said, jumping down from his chair and hurrying through to the living room.  Tami turned to follow as the remaining boys started in on each other, then paused at the counter. 

 “Franny, why don’t you come with me?” she suggested lightly.  The little girl shook her head without looking up, completely absorbed in doodling on a scrap of paper that used to be a water bill.

“She’s fine,” Debbie said absently from where she sat next to her daughter, texting someone.

“Kid, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn,” Mickey dismissed behind them.

“You wanna grab a gun and try me?” Carl goaded loudly, and Debbie finally looked up, right into Tami’s expectant eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” she grumbled.  “We’re coming.”

House rules left with the children, apparently, and things got louder behind them as they moved into the living room.

“I could outshoot you any day, Gallagher,” Mickey announced.

“Mick,” Ian warned, lost under Carl’s response.

“Please, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

“Alright, alright!” Lip cut in.  “Let’s settle this the old fashioned way.”  Everyone quieted as he took charge.  “Ian, go get one of those targets you used to steal from ROTC, think we’ve got one in the attic still.  Carl, Mickey, go get your guns and meet us under the L.”

“What guns?” Mickey asked innocently, wide eyes fixed on Carl.  “I’m an ex-con, man, I don’t got no guns.”  He thumbed his brow.  “Least not while there’s baby cops in the house.”

“I’m not gonna turn you in, Mickey,” Carl said, rolling his eyes.  “Just gonna prove I can take you.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed.  Seeing it, Ian sighed, getting up from the table with a groan and heading upstairs to find the target.  He knew not to fight that look.

Behind him, he could hear Mickey say, “Oh, it’s on.”

-----

Twenty minutes later and the four of them are gathered under the train, target set up along the length of the tracks.

“Alright,” Lip said when he finished adjusting it.  “Here’s how this is gonna work.  We all get three shots.  Go for head, heart, and groin.”  He gestured to the appropriate areas on the target.  “Carl and I will use his gun, Ian and Mickey use theirs.”

“We’re part of this now?” Ian asked his brother, exasperated, but Lip just grinned.  

“What, you were gonna let your husband have all the fun?” His grin turned sharp.  “Or are you worried you can’t hack it?  All that army stuff was a long time ago, little brother.”

Ian, tight-lipped at the sudden mention of his old dream, didn’t respond.  Mickey just muttered, “asshole,” under his breath, and stepped forward.

“My turn first,” he decided, raising his gun and shooting off three quick rounds before Lip could even get clear.

“Fucking hell, Mickey!” he yelped as he flinched away.  “Give me some fucking warning next time!”

“Nah,” Mickey replied.  “Gotta have my fun, right?”  He spun his now-unloaded gun around his trigger finger, showing off.

“Jesus,” Lip said under his breath, taking out a marker and writing “MM” next to each hole in the target.  Mickey hadn’t done too bad for such a quick draw.

“I’m next,” Carl declared, stepping into position and taking his stance.  “Out of the way, Lip.”

Lip took a few exaggerated steps to the side before nodding, and Carl squinted for a second before firing off his own shots.

“Not bad,” Lip said when he returned to mark them.  “Looks pretty close, actually.”  He leaned back to get a better look, then gestured Ian over.  “What do you think?”

Ian glanced over the spread of bullet holes, shaking his head.  “I think it’s a shame,” he offered.  He got three confused looks in return, and clarified, “all that lead-up, and neither one of you can shoot for shit.”

Carl just gaped at him, but Mickey snorted.  “Oh, excuse me,” he started, “think you can do better, Mr.--”

He was cut off by Ian grabbing the gun from his hand and shooting three times in quick succession, the sound drowning out the rest of his taunt.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and then--

“Fuck,” Lip breathed.  “Ian wins.”

“No fucking way.” Carl walked up to peer at the target, where a new hole sat right between his and Mickey’s shots at each point of interest.  “How did you do that?” he asked as he faced his brother, but Ian was locked in an intense staring contest with Mickey, and didn’t hear him.

“Uh, guys?” he tried, and it snapped Mickey out of it enough to grab Ian by the arm and start dragging him away.

“We’re leavin’“ he said gruffly, and Ian brokered no argument, casting a giddy grin over his shoulder at his brothers.

“But I haven’t even gotten a turn!” Lip called after them.

“And unless you wanna watch your brother’s perfect aim in a whole new way, you’re not gonna!” Mickey returned.

They never did make it back to the house for dinner.

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 18)

Pairing: Stucky x Inhuman!Reader

Word Count: 1350

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Dividers by @fireflygraphics

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist

A successful mission complete, Steve, Bucky, and Sam are heading home. Steve stands at the back of the quinjet staring out of a window without really seeing anything. 

“I can see the wheels turning.” Bucky quips as he comes to stand beside him. “Mission or something else?”

“Peggy,” Steve says quietly. 

Bucky lowers his head, unsure how to feel when he brings her up. 

“She wasn’t my first love, Bucky. I know that’s what you think,” Steve says. 

“I don’t remember there being anyone before her. Who was it?” Bucky grins. 

“You.” Steve smiles into Bucky’s eyes. 

“Steve, you don’t have to say that.” 

“It’s the truth, Buck. I was always in love with you. I need you to know that. Always.” 

“I was, too.” Bucky smiles as he leans to kiss him. 

Steve returns the kiss and then gazes through the window again, “I loved Peggy. I did.”

“I know you did, Steve. She loved you, too.” Bucky reassures him. 

“She was brave and smart. Moral, beautiful, fearless. I would have married her, had kids, had a life with her and I would have been happy if I hadn’t gone in the ice.”

“Okay?” Bucky furrows his brow.

“But I think I went into the ice for a reason… I realized that while I loved Peggy, we weren’t meant to end up together. I’m not comparing them. They’re both their own person.”

“You mean Peggy and Y/N,” Bucky clarifies.

“I loved Peggy. I still love her. She was an incredible person. But I was wrong about her.” Steve looks at Bucky.

“What?”

“She wasn’t my first love like you thought or the love of my life like I thought. You were my first love and I realize now that you and Y/N are the loves of my life. I almost ruined everything. I’m so sorry. But I know, I know now. I want this forever. Us, The three of us. If you’ll both still have me.”

Bucky looks into Steve’s eyes tenderly. His hand comes up to caress Steve’s face, “I’m with you til the end of the line. Always and forever.” 

“Now I just hope she will.” Steve sighs. 

“Only one way to know for sure.” Bucky says. 

“I want to get married. To you. To both of you. Marry me?” Steve holds his breath. 

Bucky grins widely, “Yes. And yes let’s ask her.” 

---

A few hours later, you’re surprised when Steve walks into your bedroom. 

“Hey Love. What are you doing back? Where’s Buck-,” your words are cut of as Steve advances on you, lifts you against the wall, and kisses you fiercely. When he lets up enough to let you breathe, you stare at him. 

“Sorry. Mission went faster than expected. Bucky and Sam are handling the hand off. I needed to see you.”

“Why?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stevie.” You say, feeling confused. 

“No, I mean, what I’m trying to say… You’re the love of my life. You and Bucky. I realized something. Why I was so angry with you before. It was fear and anger with myself and denial. I love you and I’m so sorry,” Steve presses his forehead to yours, “I want… I need you to know that. I need you to understand that you and Bucky are everything to me. I love you. I think you’re the reason Bucky and I survived. We were meant to find you. I love you so much. I’ll do anything to make up for-”

“Steve!” you cut off his torrent of words, “I love you, too. I feel the same for you and Bucky. I’m home when I’m with you. I forgive you. I’m with you until the end of the line. You’re my home. You and Bucky,” you kiss Steve with the same desperation he had kissed you with. A need for you to cement your words into understanding. When you pull away, you smile with tears on your face, “Stevie?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Make love to me.” 

“You’re… you’re sure?” Steve looks at you wide-eyed. 

“Please, Stevie, I need you,” you whisper. 

Clothes are discarded as Steve backs you to the bed. Your lips barely part as you caress each others’ bodies, stoking the fire that burns inside for each other. When your legs with the edge of the bed, you sit down and scoot back. Steve follows you down and seals your mouth with his. You moan into the intense kiss as his cock nudges at you. 

“Doll?” Steve asks. 

You answer immediately understanding the statement and question laced in the endearment, “Yes. Need you.”

Steve presses in and your body gives in to him willingly. His thick length spears you open and you throw back your head as the sensation overwhelms you. When he’s fully seated inside you, he presses his forehead to yours, “Fuck. Could come right now, sweetheart. Missed feeling you around me. Missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Stevie. I love you,” you moan. 

Steve starts with slow strokes and with each one he moans, “Love you.” until the words become an incoherent chant as he speeds up. His hips grinding against you with each thrust. It isn’t long until the coil n you tightens and you know Steve is close after his penance of non-touch. 

“Steve, oh God, I’m coming.” The spasms overpower you as Steve works you through your orgasm, feeling every clench until he finally allows his own orgasm to overtake him. He thrusts languidly into you as he works through the aftershocks. 

“I love you so much.” He whispers again.

“I love you, too.” You gasp as his hips continue to thrust. He still feels incredibly hard inside of you. 

Steve surprises you when he pulls out, slips you onto your stomach and enters you again from behind. He stretched over you and holds your hands in his over your head. He rolls his hips slowly bringing himself in and out of you at a new angle that hits against your g spot perfectly. The slow pace is good at first but you find yourself wanting more. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah, baby? You okay?” Steve whispers  in your ear.

“I need you. More,” you whimper. 

“What do you need?”

“Fuck me, baby. Hard. I need to feel it.” 

“Fuck, doll. You always know how to drive me crazy,” Steve pulls out and slams back into you. His strength and pace push you into the mattress with each stroke. His hips slapping against your ass obscenely as he does. 

“Fuck! Yes! Give me all of it, baby,” you cry. 

Steve fucks you like a piston. You know you’ll be a bit sore later but for now the sensations he is evoking are overpowering every sense. The pleasure building borders on pain from his near brutal thrusts. Filthy words fall from his mouth as he praises you. Your body tightens and you’re practically drooling feeling his cock hitting you so deep. You begin to tremble and with a long moan you come all over Steve’s cock for a second time. Steve lets out a hoarse cry as he reaches his end.  

He rolls you both to your sides still inside of you. Once your breathing slows, Steve hugs you tightly against him and asks, “Can we stay like this for a little while? I just want to be close to you right now.”

“As long as you like, baby.”

“Now we just need Bucky to get back.” 

“How long will it take for the hand off?” you ask.

“Not long. They’ll be back tonight.”

“Mmm, good. Tony’s party is tomorrow night. I’m glad you’ll both be here for it. Sam’s supposed to bring his girlfriend. I haven’t met her yet.”

“Neither have I,” Steve says sleepily. After a few minutes, you thought he had drifted off to sleep when you feel a kiss pressed to your shoulder and softly spoken words in you ear, “I love you.” 

You grin, “I love you. Always.” 

Steve’s breathing evens out after a few minutes and, following his lead, you drift off to sleep, too. Safe at home. 

Part 19

Tuiccim’s Masterlist 

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Thursdays and Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support! 

[liberty-barnes]

The Swear Jar

Part 1 of The Jar Series

Mob Boss!Tom Holland x Single Mom!Reader

Prompt: “I've never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life”

Warnings: swearing obviously, Tom’s a mob boss so there’s that, there’s like, one sexual innuendo but also ??? not really??? idk

Word Count: 4k (i really need to learn to write short things)

Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes

A/N: It’s the pic guys, I can’t help it.

Edit: Wow, you guys actually liked this! So since many of you asked, a part will be coming out soon, maybe more, we’ll see. So if you wanna be added to my “The Swear Jar” Taglist, just ask me or add yourself directly through the link in my bio!

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The bell above the door to the diner chimed and you perked up, smiling brightly at the young teenage couple.

“Gracie! Stella! It’s so good to see you again!”

The girls greeted you with the same amount of enthusiasm and proceeded to order their usual meal.

“Your hair’s really pretty Stella! You look like a mermaid now!”

“Thanks, Millie! I took your advice and went with blue instead of purple.”

The young girl smiled and captured the couple’s attention by showcasing her current work in progress.

Millicent Rose (Y/l/n) was your five-year-old daughter. She had brown hair, falling on her shoulders in nice large curls, and big (y/e/c) eyes, a perfect match to yours. She loved drawing (the diner walls were crawling with her masterpieces) and pretty hair, especially if it was soft. 

Her bubbly and fearless personality sometimes frightened you, but you mostly came to terms with the fact that your daughter was a social butterfly and took full advantage of the small diner to interact with as many people as she could.

You watched with a fond smile as Millie explained what she had been drawing to the girls, mentioning every little detail while they praised her good work. The young brunette had a gift to make anyone love her.

Soon enough, their large milkshake to share was finished and Lou, the owner and cook, was all done with the food so the girls sat down at a booth and Millie went back to drawing, little feet dangling off the chair and little brows furrowed in concentration. 

As you were refiling Mr and Mrs Lee’s drinks, the bell chimed once more and four men walked in dressed in stylish suits, much too fancy for this place. They sat down at a booth and started talking while you took a deep calming breath.

Oh, fuck me.

You took your notepad and walked over to them, a much too fake smile on your face.

“Good morning gentlemen, what can I get you?”

The table quieted down and you made eye contact with who you knew to be the leader.

“I’ll have a burger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.”

One of the twins said.

“I’ll have the same but with a chocolate milkshake instead.”

The other one added.

“Vegi burger and a coke, please.”

At least the blonde one had some manners. 

Your eyes lifted from the notepad to the leader once again.

“And for you?”

You did your best to ignore the slight tremble in your voice.

“Bacon cheeseburger, fries and a coke, darling.”

“Right away.”

You got out of there as soon as possible, sparing a glance at your daughter to make sure she was still sitting at the counter before entering the kitchen with a panicked expression on your face.

“Lou…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’ve got an order… for the Hollands…”

“Well, shit.”

The Holland family was the oldest and most successful mob in London, extremely rich, dangerous, and seemingly untouchable.

Harry and Sam Holland, the twins, were rumoured to have been behind the Burtons’ death, another famous family known for drug trafficking and other crimes.

Harrison Osterfield, the second in command, was a close family friend, accused of drug trafficking, illegal weapons selling, and other such crimes, though the charges all dropped before the first hearing even took place.

And finally, Thomas Holland, the leader. Arrested for multiple murders, arson, extortion, and a long list of other felonies, but never convicted.

Everyone was scared of them, and the fact that they were eating here was not good for business. 

You ignored the tightness in your chest in favour of helping Lou prepare their food, hoping to do it as fast as possible so the group could leave.

Meanwhile, at the booth, Tom was rolling his eyes at his brothers and friend’s stupidity. 

“Okay, we get it, she’s hot, but you don’t have to talk about it all the fucking time.”

Millie turned her head in their direction and scowled. She stretched a bit to the other side of the counter to take the transparent jar and got down from her chair, making her way to their booth, stomping a bit, which made her Sketchers light up.

The diner watched with curious (and slightly frightened, for the Lees) eyes as the little girl climbed onto the booth next to Harrison, one leg after the other, and kneeled next to the blonde, setting her elbow on the table and stretching so the transparent jar was now sitting in front of Tom.

He looked at it: a lid-less mason jar with a pink bow and right in the front, in a child’s handwriting and pink glittery letters were the words 'Swear Jar’.

“You owe a pound.”

He lifted his head to look at the girl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When someone says a bad word they have to put a pound in the jar. You said a bad word so you owe a pound.”

“I’ve never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life!”

“That’s two more so you have to put three pounds in.”

“Yeah, Tom, put the money in.”

Harrison had his arms around the girl and a smug smile on his face, evidently taking a liking to the young brunette.

“Shut the fuck up Haz, you curse more than I do!”

“Four.”

“Shit.”

That one was not on purpose.

“Five.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, hold on.”

He took out his wallet and took his only five-dollar bill amid all the hundreds.

“Just gonna put the money in this stupid jar.”

“Six.”

“Wha- stupid’s not a swear word!”

“I’m not allowed to say it so yes, it is.”

Tom rummaged around his wallet for a stray pound, reluctantly putting a hundred in after finding nothing.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to say ninety-nine swear words?”

“No paying in advance, everything that’s not the money you owe is a donation.”

“To what foundation?”

“The ‘get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation”

She answered with a smirk and everyone -bar Tom- was pretty much crying at seeing their boss be told what to do by a five-year-old.

“Man, you are so screwed!”

“That’s one pound for you, Mister!”

“Oh shit, right!”

“Two…”

Harry took out his wallet (still laughing his arse off, mind you) and didn’t even try to look for the two pounds, simply putting in a hundred.

Millie’s eyes were focused solely on Tom’s hair. She climbed on top of Harrison, her pink tulle skirt flying behind her and stood on the seat next to the brunette, her hands immediately flying to his hair.

“You have very pretty hair. It’s really soft.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She hummed and kept playing with the soft strands.

“My name’s Tom, and these are my twin brothers Harry and Sam, and my best friend, Haz.”

She looked around for a while, not answering, seemingly lost in thought until she looked back at him and her sparkling (y/e/c) eyes focused on his brown ones.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Millie.”

“T-Tommy?”

Sam stuttered out between peels of laughter.

“I don’t like Tom, Tommy’s better. Why are you so shocked Twin Nice?”

Harry looked appalled.

“Why's he Twin Nice?”

“Because you said a bad word and he didn’t, so he’s Twin Nice and you’re Twin Naughty.”

Sam did a little victory dance, bragging about his new nickname to his twin.

The little girl sat down on Tom’s lap and started to play with the black ring on his finger.

“What am I, then?”

She looked up to Harrison from in between Tom’s fingers, still playing with the thick band.

“You’re Thor cause you have pretty eyes and you look really strong.”

To say that the blonde was pleased would be an understatement.

“You, little lady, are my new best friend. We need to come here more often.”

Millie smiled and went back to observing the ring.

“Does this mean you’re married?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“No, it means that I’m a part of the Holland family, like them.”

Everyone around the table showed theirs, a symbol of their high status in the mob.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live with your mommy?”

“No, I live with these dumbasses in a big house.”

She pushed the swear jar towards him and gave him what could only be described as the 'Disappointed Mom’ look.

“Do you like it?”

“Kind of, sometimes they get on my nerves and I wish they’d rot in Hell, but yeah, it’s not too bad.”

She slapped his hand in reprimand and he internally cursed himself.

“Don’t you miss your mommy?”

“A little, but I see my parents every Sunday for family dinner.”

He answered after placing yet another bill in the jar.

“Parents?”

“Yeah, my mum and dad.”

She hummed.

“I wish I had a dad.”

The boys all stiffened. 

Well, that escalated quickly.

Tom cleared his throat, measuring his words before speaking, for once in his life.

“Do you know what happened to your dad?”

“Mommy says he left cause he wasn’t good like her. She says it’s okay, though, cause we only need each other but my friend Lilly has a mommy and a daddy and she told me that sometimes when her mommy’s sad or tired he’ll do all the grown-up stuff like cook and read her a story while her mommy rests and she’s happier that way. I want my mommy to be happy like that too.”

For Tom, it felt like his cold, dead heart was starting to beat again. This little angel sitting on his lap was asking for something most children already had, not for herself, but for her mother.

“You’re a really good person, Millie.”

“If you stopped saying so many bad words you’d be one too, Tommy.”

The boys laughed yet again and they continued talking for a little while, refraining from any work-related issues for the sake of their newest addition, choosing instead to discuss sports and fighting over who’d be on cleaning duty that Sunday. Three more bills made their way to the jar during that particular discussion, one from each boy (bar Sam because he was on cooking duty, as always), and for once they allowed themselves to relax and simply be, instead of always worrying.

You got out of the kitchen with the men’s orders ready and looked at the end of the counter, planning to check on Millie before walking over to the mobsters’ table. Your brows furrowed when you didn’t find her and you immediately looked towards the girls’ table or the Lees’, finding she wasn’t there either.

“Mommy, over here!”

You followed your child’s voice and your eyes widened once you saw her sitting on the leader’s lap. The smiling leader’s lap.

You quickly made your way to their booth, placing their orders in front of them without even taking your eyes off your daughter.

“Millicent Rose! What have I told you about bothering people when they’re in their booths?”

She looked guilty for half a second but immediately perked up again, ready to defend herself.

“Not to, but Mommy, he said a bad word so I had to take the swear jar to him.”

“And why, pray tell, are you sitting in the gentleman’s lap?”

“His name’s Tommy and he said he didn’t mind and this way I can talk to Thor, Twin Nice and Twin Naughty better.”

Tommy, Thor, Twin Nice, and Twin Naughty?

“Oh, fuck me.”

Millie’s jaw dropped open. She’d never heard you swear before.

“You owe a pound, Mommy.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

You pulled a pound from your pocket and put it in, eyes widening at the amount of money in the jar.

“How in the world?”

“I didn’t have singles so I just put hundreds in. Apparently, it’s a donation to the 'Get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation.”

You set the jar down and shook your head in disbelief.

“I am never letting Harley babysit you ever again.”

She pouted and slumped down, arms crossed adorably in front of her.

“Now come on, let the gentlemen eat their lunch in peace and come get yours.”

She cuddled up to Tom more than before, burying her head in his chest and fisting his shirt, and shaking her head in protest.

“Millie, come on, let’s go. I’m so sorry for the bother sir.”

“It’s no problem, she’s welcome to say for however long she wants.”

The brunette smiled at your daughter and then at you, before the man on his right interrupted.

“Besides, she’s very entertaining. It’s nice to see someone else call Tom out on his bullshit.”

You and Millie threw the blonde matching glares while Tom just pushed the jar towards him.

“You owe a pound, Haz”

“Excuse you Tommy, my name’s Thor.”

He then turned to you with a smug smile and attitude.

“Cause I have pretty eyes like him and look very strong. Don’t you agree with your daughter… (Y/n)?”

He read your name tag and smiled charmingly while you pursed your lips, looking him up and down. You then looked at your little girl.

“You sure?”

“Well, who else has pretty blue eyes?”

“Captain America.”

She light up right away and straightened herself.

“Right! And he looks like Captain America when he was tiny! Thanks, Mommy!”

She then turned to Harrison with a gigantic smile on her face.

“You’re Tiny America now.”

The whole table -bar Haz- laughed and you had to bite your lip not to laugh too, instead linking your hands and looking at the clock.

“Come on Millie, it’s time to eat.”

“Can I eat here with Tommy, please?”

“If you eat here with Tommy I won’t be able to make sure you eat your veggies.”

The man’s heart stuttered when you used his nickname, a strange sense of happiness overcoming him.

“Tommy can check.”

“Mm… I’m not sure if he can check you ate them. He’s not used to your sneakiness.”

“What if I pinky promise to eat my veggies and eat a banana for dessert instead of ice cream?”

It was a struggle to get her to eat fruits and veggies. You usually had to settle for one or the other, so when she spontaneously decided to eat both, you jumped at the opportunity, mob be damned.

“Deal! But no annoying the boys.”

She smiled and nodded, settling comfortably on Tom’s lap, waiting for her food. You took out her plate of chicken nuggets, fries, and green beans, chocolate milkshake to wash it down.

You tried not to let the butterflies in your stomach distract you from your job but the way Tom smiled at your daughter and praised her when she ate all her veggies in a row, wanting to get it over with, made your heart ache, the longing for someone still very much present.

“Have a nice meal.”

You made eye contact with the brunette and blushed at the smile he sent you before waving goodbye at the Lees. The teenage couple had left a bit earlier so the mobsters were now your last customers of the day.

You wiped the kitchen counters and said goodbye to Lou, assuring him that you’d close up by yourself. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath and sighed, unable to stop your smile when you heard your daughter’s laugh carrying through the wall separating you from the group.

“Mommy, we’re done!”

You straightened up and schooled your features before walking over to them, taking away their plates while asking if Millie behaved and if they wanted dessert. The answer to both questions was a yes and so you came back a little while later with chocolate pudding for the twins, caramel ice cream for Harrison, a banana split for Tom, and a miniature one for Millie.

“Since you behaved so nicely you get a little sweetness with your banana.”

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled brightly at you.

“You’re the best mommy ever! I love you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

You turned around, ready to leave, when a voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit down with us for a bit? I’m pretty sure that if you wipe that table down one more time you’ll remove the paint.”

You blushed but complied, sitting down next to Harrison and watching as your daughter ate her dessert quickly and quietly, wincing from time to time because of brain freezes. As soon as she was done, she reached for Tom’s right hand. He switched the hand that held the spoon, eating with his left so that Millie could play with the ring on his finger.

Unfortunately for him, he had a bit of trouble eating with his non-dominant hand while holding a child on his lap, leading to a bit of ice cream falling on his shirt.

“Ah, fu-”

You shot him a glare that made him change courses immediately.

“-dge. Fudge.”

Millie clapped and gave him a big, approving smile.

“See, Mommy? He’s making progress!”

“Indeed he is, darling.”

“Oh, this is fucking hilarious!”

The young girl gasped, mouth open comically wide and utter betrayal swimming in her eyes.

“I thought you were nice.”

Sam realized his mistake as soon as she spoke, covering his mouth with his hand as if to stop any more of the offending words from leaving it.

“You owe five pounds.”

“What? Why? I only said one swear word!”

She shook her head in disapproval, arms crossed in front of her chest, and pushed the jar towards him.

“You made me believe you were nice so your trickster-y will cost you four extra pounds.”

You shook your head, smile firmly plastered on your face as you watched Sam pull out a hundred dollar bill with a pout on his lips. It was quite endearing, really.

“So, (Y/n), tell us about you.”

You locked eyes with the brunette once again, piercing gaze seemingly looking through you.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, Mr Holland. I’m not a very interesting person.”

Your voice was soft, your words calculated. You knew that these men could kill you in the blink of an eye.

“No uninteresting person could have raised such a perfect little angel.”

He smirked and Millie looked at you with a smug smile.

“See, he said I was an angel.”

Life be damned, it’s not worth living if your daughter has an ego the size of Russia. That would most definitely come back to bite you in the ass.

“Yeah, that’s cause he hasn’t had to deal with you in all your nightly glory.”

She put her tongue out and snuggled deeper into Tom’s chest.

“Well, for one, how did you find yourself working here?”

He got the conversation back on you and you felt slightly intimidated with the whole table’s eyes on little old you.

“Customers are nice, I earn enough money for us to get by, owner’s nice, the school’s at the end of the street, and Millie gets to stay with me when she’s not there.”

Even though he was focused on you, you noticed the way he held your daughter close to his chest, his bigger frame completely enveloping her smaller one. She still hadn’t let go of his hand and kept playing with the ring on his finger. Seeing how calm and caring he was being with your daughter calmed you down and the more questions you answered, the more comfortable you became.

“How can you work at a dinner and not like vanilla milkshakes?”

Sam looked horrified at that, and you just shrugged dismissively.

“I never really liked when vanilla was too present. Like, if you used it to just enhance everything else you know, make it taste better, then sure, but just vanilla isn’t really my style.”

Tom took a sharp breath in and tried to stop his mind from wandering at the possible double meaning of your words. Instead, he chose to focus on the little girl on his lap.

Until he noticed she was asleep, that is.

He smiled a little and shifted her so she was resting more comfortably on his lap. Unfortunately for him, that caught your attention.

“Oh my, is she asleep? I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, though we should probably get her to bed so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.”

For the umpteenth time, you pushed down the butterflies upon hearing him say 'we’ and being so careful with your daughter.

You took the remaining dishes and went to the kitchen, putting them in the wash and turning on the machine, leaving it to run so tomorrow morning you’d be able to put everything away. You went back in to clean the booth and Tom practically shoved a hundred dollar bill in your hand, ignoring your protests.

He waited for you by the door while you finished closing up, and you extended your arms towards him when you finished.

“Thank you for everything today, but you must be getting tired, I can take her from here.”

He gently pushed your arms down.

“Let me take you home, please, I don’t like the idea of you having to carry her all on your own.”

You hesitantly nodded and he guided you to his car. It’s only then that you noticed the other three had left. You settled on the passenger side of his black Audi and he handed you Millie, closing the door softly as to not startle her. He then entered the driver’s side and started the car. You gave him directions to your apartment building and within five minutes, he parked the car right out front.

Ever the gentleman, he insisted on carrying the little girl. Knowing by now that there wasn’t much you could do to protest, you agreed and led him up the four flights of stairs to your door.

“Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It’s no problem, darling, I quite like it.”

You turned your head for a brief second, as if asking him to elaborate while still leading him to your daughter’s room.

“The fact that it’s messy means that someone lives here, that this isn’t just some house, it’s a home. My house is always pristine but that’s because no one’s ever there to actually use it as something other than a glorified B&B.”

He laid Millie down on the bed and you pulled the covers over her. You both stood side to side for a little while, just watching her breathe.

“That sounds really lonely.”

“Yeah…”

Another minute passed by with no words coming from either of you.

“You raised an amazing daughter, (Y/n).”

“You’re a good man, Tom.”

Hearing those unfamiliar words coming out of your mouth almost brought tears to his eyes. He was always used to being called a ruthless mobster, cold-blooded killer, or many other names that all meant the same thing: monster. But you called him a good man, and the sincerity in your voice was almost overwhelming.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, making you turn towards him.

“I should probably go… You should get some rest as well.”

You nodded and walked him to the door. In a split-second decision, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, locking eyes with him afterwards.

“If you ever need an escape, or just wanna hang out somewhere different, our door’s always open.”

That made a smile take over his face and he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, darling.”

And as you watched him round the corner, only your back visible to you, you couldn’t help but feel like this wouldn’t be the last time you ever saw Tom Holland.

i have mixed feelings concerning this story but at least i have ideas for a part two (if i ever decide to make one)

don’t forget to reblog, comment or like if you feel like it <3

[roanniom]

My request is probably so lame lol. But will you please tell us about Valentines Day with Flip? How does he spoil you and make it extra special for you? I’d love it if you could throw in some praise kink and size kink too please!

I love all your writing and you’re so talented! Thank you for entertaining my request! 💛

Hi my lovelies, thanks for your patience with this, seeing as it is coming over a week after Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t 100% I had another Valentine’s story in me after my Clyde and Charlie ones, but I chose to combine these prompts, got a little inspiration today and voila - a sweet and salty Flip one shot was born. Hope you’re cool with me combining and taking a bit from each of these requests! ❤️

Stupid Little Day in February

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 3,890

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex / semi-public sex / unprotected sex, angst in the form of Flip wanting to love up his lady but having work get in the way

Flip had never intended to find himself in this position. He was a perfectionist, giving everything he had and then some in an effort to be successful in all he did – high school sports, his career at the department, his relationships. It’s why he always tries to make time for the boys, being there for Ron whenever he needs help or just someone to bitch to over a beer after work. It’s why he does his best to shower you with love and affection every chance he gets, bringing home little gifts and spending lazy Sundays doing nothing but you. And he thought that, all things considered, he’d been doing a damn good job.

That is until he overheard you on the phone with your friend the other day. You were twirling the coiled cord around your finger while you lounged on the couch laughing and chatting animatedly. He’d walked by and into the kitchen, careful not to disturb you, but as he cracked open a beer he heard something that made his stomach drop.

“Yeah I know I love Valentine’s Day, but Flip hates it so I can be cool with that.”

Flip had left his beer on the counter and moved silently to the doorway, ears straining to hear the rest of the conversation, mind racing to all the times he had, indeed, condemned the holiday of love as a sappy excuse for bad boyfriends to redeem themselves. A day to stimulate the gift industry. You’d laughed and teased him for his soap box routine and grumpy demeanor but you hadn’t argued.

“Besides, I’ve told you. The man gets me flowers like three days a week. He remembers things, like really remembers things. And he listens. I’d trade fancy dinner, red hearts, and chocolate for him any day.”

And though you’d defended him to your friend, your words had stuck with Flip. He wanted to give you the moon, he would if it wasn’t so damn high up. The least he could do was indulge you in something you enjoyed. You did that for him constantly – sitting through football games, hanging with the boys at the bar, listening to country music though you told him that deep inside it made you want to murder the jukebox. You sucked it up and took it with a smile so you could be with him. Flip kicked himself for not being able to do the same with some stupid holiday.

But at the exact moment Flip vowed to right this wrong, the universe seemed to have made a competing vow to ruin all of his efforts. It seemed that the revelation had come to late, being that it was already the night before Valentine’s Day. He was horrified the next morning to find, after a series of tense calls made at his desk hunched over and hushed so none of the other detectives could here, every restaurant in town was booked full. Which ended up being a moot point because the chief demanded he stay late, regardless of how much he gnashed his teeth.

“Everyone with a serious gal already asked for the night off, Zimmerman. It’s too late now. Guess your gal isn’t that serious,” was the only reply he received.

Head in his hands at his desk, Flip flinched when his back received a firm clap.

“Now I know we’re in the contemplating-marriage-territory here with this girl,” Ron said, pulling a seat up and fixing Flip with a concerned look. “What’s all this about not taking time off?”

Flip repeated the conversation that he’d overheard, sure to explain that he had no intention of disappointing you despite your good nature.

“You do realize that this could easily be remedied by a simple call to your woman, right?” Ron asked as Flip massaged the space between his eyes.

“I wanted to surprise her. Calling at this point feels like admitting defeat.”

“Do you hear yourself? ‘Admitting defeat?’ This isn’t some damn battle, it’s a holiday for a fat little baby with wings.”

“Hey, he does have a weapon,” Flip countered, though this time he cracked a smile. Ron laughed heartily.

“Yeah, one that’s been used to shoot you and your little lady enough to kill a small elephant. You guys are pumped so full of the love juice it’s a wonder you’re able to concentrate on anything else.” Ron turned then and flicked the large stack of files on Flip’s desk with a smirk. “Or maybe that’s your problem, Zimmerman.”

Flip shook his head.

“That might be the case for me, but – ”

“Are you seriously about to argue that she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“How the fuck would you know?” Flip asked gruffly. Ron, used to Flip’s gruffness much as you were, plowed right on through.

“Well besides all the dinner parties and barbeques and nights we all go dancing?” Ron raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Patrice, man! You think those women get together and don’t talk about us?”

“Patrice has told you things?” Flip’s whole body tensed and Ron was quick to reassure.

“Calm the fuck down, I don’t want any of your dirty details. All I know is your woman is crazy in love with you. I don’t think some stupid little day in February is going to rock your world as much as you think it will.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Flip conceded, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m always right, you just never listen,” Ron said good-naturedly as he headed back to his desk. Over his shoulder he tossed one final piece of wisdom. “Whatever you do, just call her!”

~*~

And Flip did try to call you. Ten times as a matter of fact. It wasn’t until the sun set out the window and he hung up the phone for the tenth time that he remembered you’d had plans to hang out with your mother today. While that probably should have made him feel better – you had filled your day with plenty of things and probably wouldn’t even notice his failed attempt at romance – he couldn’t help but agonize the fact that it proved you had expected so little of him in the first place.

It’s with this on his mind that Flip buries himself in his paperwork. It’s 8pm and every member of the Colorado Springs police force that hadn’t taken the holiday off is out for a dinner break, Flip having sullenly waved them off so he could sulk in peace. He’s neck-deep in casefiles when he hears the sound of footsteps coming in from the bullpen. It was much too soft to be the tread of any of the beat cops he’d expected to see tonight and Judy, the night shift receptionist, wasn’t due in till later.

“Burning the midnight oil there, detective?”

Flip’s head snaps up at your voice to find you leaning against the doorframe to his office, arms folded casually across your chest, cheeky smile gracing your lips.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” Flip asks breathlessly as he makes to stand up. He freezes mid-motion, however, when you hold a hand up.

“Ah ah ah, no need to get up,” you tsk, closing the door with a gentle click and dropping your bag to the floor before making your way over to him. He hesitates but lowers himself back into his seat, eyes trained on your frame slinking toward him. You drop your palms to his desk and hoist yourself up onto it, prowling forward across the surface on your hands and knees toward him. “I heard my man needed some cheering up.”

“You did?” Flip asks, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth as he leans back in his seat to enjoy what has already been and promises to be quite a show. Legs spread wide and hands gripping the arm rests he hasn’t really even heard what you said. Instead he is focusing every single brain cell on the cleavage that is visible through the red peacoat he’s never seen you wear, chest now slightly exposed as you slowly slide off the scarf you’d used to obscure it.

“Yeah. I heard you wanted to love on me but couldn’t because of work,” you say in a low voice, scooting forward so that one leg dangles off the edge of the desk on the outside of Flip’s left thigh while you place your other foot on the edge of his chair to the right of his other thigh. His gaze flits to the expanse of inner thigh that is now visible to him, your legs bare beneath the peacoat despite the freezing mid-February chill outside. His hand shoots up to smooth over your thigh, warming your skin, just as his brain catches up to your words.

“Now where exactly did you hear that, sugar?” He asks with a small frown. One of your hands reaches out to his shoulder, pulling him in his wheeled office chair closer to you and the desk. The same hand slides down his shoulder to smooth back and forth over the plane of his chest, just as your other hand threads into his hair.

“I can’t go around divulging my secrets,” you say breathily, leaning forward and arresting his lips in a sensuous kiss. You are the first to deepen it, tongue flitting over his lips to beg for entrance before plunging into the depths of his mouth. You kiss him greedily like you’re seeking the breath from his lungs to be the source of your own oxygen. Like the pressure of his lips on yours will warm the late winter cold from your bones. When you slide off the desk and into his lap, straddling his thick denim-clad thighs, Flip moans into the kiss, making you break away with a pleased hum. You relish in the look of his kiss-bruised lips, red and wet from the fervor of your contact. “Maybe cupid dropped by with a little message. Told me to come on down here and drive you wild.”

Flip’s breathing deeply at this point but the new intake of air seems to get the gears moving better in his mind. He frowns.

“And by cupid you mean Ron.”

“Bingo, baby,” you confirm with a smile before pressing a kiss to his furrowed brow. “Don’t be mad at him, though. He told me how you tried to make tonight special for me and that you’d probably bite off the heads of everyone working the night shift if I didn’t make my way down here quick.”

“I set something up. I did what I could, things just kept going wrong…”

“Shhh….” Your kisses migrate from his forehead to his cheek, pressing into his dimples till his frown smooths out and his eyes close again. Only then do you move down to mouth at the column of his throat, pressing your lips to his Adam’s apple. “So how many are there?”

“How many what?” he asks distractedly, eyes still closed.

“Dead bodies of people who had the misfortune to cross paths with my grumpy mountain man?” you ask, the smile clear in your voice though you speak the words into his skin. Flips hands tighten around your hips.

“I’m only grumpy because you deserve the fuckin’ moon and I’m stuck here behind a desk.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed,” you say, angling in his lap so that your lower back leans against the edge of the desk behind you. “I am also behind the desk with you. So maybe it’s not all bad.”

It is at this point that you pop the few buttons at the front of our coat, allowing it to drop open and reveal the gauzy, see-through red negligee you are wearing beneath. It comes down only to the tops of your thighs, but most important of all, you are completely bare beyond the fabric. Your breasts are held in the negligee’s sheer lace cups, nipples hard, and not a scrap of panties obstructs his view of your cunt, evidently glistening from this angle, even through the garment.  

“Sugar.” He intones it soft, deep. It’s a statement. A warning as his eyes slide back up your body to lock on your own hungry stare. “You’re just looking for trouble here.”

With a devious smile you settle forward again, rolling your pelvis this time to rub your heat conspicuously over the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You can punish me later, Flip,” you whisper softly in his ear as you reach down to unbuckle his belt. “When you get home. But for now let me reward you.”

“What’s there to reward me for, darlin’?” Flip asks, helping you rid him of his belt and unfasten the buttons of his Levi’s. He’s not even sure why he’s pressing the matter. You’re here, rubbing your gorgeous body all of his in the middle of his workplace like some fucking fever dream and here he is, practically reminding you of his unworthiness. In some kind of verbal act of self-flagellation.

“Flip Zimmerman,” you chide, even as you pull his half-hard dick out of the opening you’ve made in his pants, careful to keep the rest of his clothing neat. “There’s always something to reward you for.” You begin applying a few measured strokes to his length, squeezing at the base and rolling your wrist to smooth the motion up to his tip.

“Fuck,” Flip grunts quietly, his head dropping to hit the back of the chair.

“This morning you sprinkled cinnamon on my oatmeal. Last night you handed me that lotion that smells like jasmine when I got out of the shower, the one I love so much.” You kiss his jaw as you say this and let your eye lashes flutter against his cheek in the process.

“Those are little things. Nothing,” Flip argues, still mentally kicking himself for the knee-jerk way he keeps dragging this on. Living in this guilt despite your loving ministrations which suggest you feel exactly the opposite.

“They aren’t little to me,” you say, your tone abruptly serious and your fingers digging into his jaw to keep him looking at you. “You read to me on Sunday afternoons. You take me camping whenever you get time off.”

Your tone returns to its original gentleness and you duck your head so that you can nip at Flip’s earlobe. Your hand continues its steady pace on his cock, thumb swirling around in the precum collecting on his tip.

“You fuck me. Good and hard and slow and fast and every which way I need it.” He’s painfully hard now, both from your hand and from your focused attention on him. From the words falling from your lips. He gazes back at you with blackened eyes and massages the skin of your hips and ass with his large, warm hands. You lick the shell of his ear then, marveling in the way it always turns red and hot, regardless of his confidence, regardless of his dominance. “You meet my needs, Flip, every day. And today is just any old day. So just like you do for me, I’m going to meet your needs, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

You say this as you lift yourself up with the muscles of your thighs and line him up with your entrance, sinking down on his cock just as you get to the last few words. Flip immediately mutters a string of hushed curses, fingers digging into your hips through your gauzy negligee so hard you’re already looking forward to the bruises. He breathes through his nose, his labored exhales fanning across your face as you work to adjust to him, eventually swiveling your hips a bit.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to yours. Your face is screwed up in pleasure-pain and you huff out a laugh.

“No, you’re just fucking huge.” Your statement gets a groan from him and you smirk as you begin to lift yourself up and down on Flip’s cock with his help. Your walls pulse, stroking his cock as your tongue moves on to stroking his ego. “You’re so big, Flip. Too big. I can barely take you.”

“You’re taking me just fine, sugar,” he shakes his head, eyes rolling back in their sockets as you grind into him on a down motion. “So wet. This little pussy takes me so well.”

“You fill me up, Flip. Stuff me – ohhh fuck – stuff me so full I think I might burst.” You reach one hand back to grip the edge of the desk for leverage while your other hand digs into the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh for me you do burst, baby. You burst and gush all over me like the good girl you are,” Flip whispers into your clavicle when you throw your head back, an automatic response to him beginning to aid you by thrust up into your quivering cunt himself. This sounds more like your Flip. Confident and powerful. Pressing all the right buttons to drive you wild. “My good girl.”

“I love it when you call me that,” you admit softly.

“A good girl?”

“Your good girl,” you correct.

“My good girl,” Flip repeats and your pussy clenches around him hard in response. So naturally Flip says it again. “You’re my good girl.”

Your breathing has increased rapidly, spurred on in no small part by the way one of his hands has snaked up to pluck a breast from its lacy confines. His head dips to suck your nipple into his mouth and you hum.

“Who’s good girl are you?” Flip asks into your breasts.

“I’m your good girl.”

You begin ridding him harder, faster. The slick seeping onto his cock around your swollen lips indicates that you’re farther along than he’d expect, a suspicion that you soon confirm with a whimper.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous. He’s used to marathon lovemaking. Even a quick fuck in a bathroom stall usually becomes indulgent for you two, trading speed for roughness and lewdness.

“I kind of…got ready before I – ah! – came here.” You bite your lip as you say it and Flip resists the urge to pull your lip out and claim it for himself.

“And by ‘got ready’ you mean…” he prompts, a wicked smile spreading on his face.

“I touched myself,” you admit, no shame in your words. “I touched myself while thinking about my handsome man and his handsome cock and the way it was going to fill me when I came over here.”

Flip grabs one of your hands then, zeroing in on your fingers. All the while he keeps thrusting up into you, feet flat on the floor and muscles rippling throughout his body with the effort.

“Did these fingers rub your little clit?”

“Yes,” you say, still confident. Flip licks a stripe up your index and middle finger, almost as if doing so would allow him to taste remnants of your essence.

“Did you stuff them inside your pussy. Press that little spot inside you like so much?” As he says it he thrusts up and forward, making his cock drag against your front wall in a way that’s got you buckling in on yourself.

“Oh god oh yes. Yes!” You’re trying to remain as quiet as possible but it’s getting harder by the second. The station was empty save for Flip when you’d arrive but soon other people would return. A fact that made your pussy drool all the more on Flip’s throbbing cock.

Flip watches you fall apart in his arms and speeds up the process by sucking on your fingertips, splitting them apart with his tongue and laving each equally. You swallow a moan as he brings your own wetted fingers down to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me,” he breathes, moving forward to kiss your lips. “Show me what I do to you.”

You begin rubbing your clit just as Flip assaults your senses in all other ways. He captures your mouth in a kiss while simultaneously returning to kneading at your breasts with abandon, tugging and squeezing at the pillowy flesh.

“Did you cry out my name in that empty house when you came?” he prompts. You shake your head feverishly, your thighs shaking around him as your climax nears.

“No. I didn’t cum. I saved that for you.”

In a flash of blinding pleasure, you unraveling on top of him, careful to suppress the reaction to little gasps and whimpers instead of the loud praise and guttural moans you would have preferred to let out. The suddenness of your orgasm catches Flip off guard and he is utterly unprepared for the way your walls flutter and pulse, ultimately milking his cock of his own release. You collapse in his arms with a shaky laugh, one he’s only able to reciprocate when the ringing in his ears begin to lessen and his heart stops trying to pound a route out of his chest.

You both revel in the afterglow for a few minutes after, holding each other like you aren’t in his office in the middle of the Colorado Springs Police Department. Like people aren’t about to file in after their dinner break, bellies full and completely unaware of the fact that Flip had just railed you into next February.

After a while, Flip finally pulls out and tucks himself away, once again the picture of professionalism. Or at least, as much the picture of professionalism as Flip cares to appear, what with his eternal flannel and comfortably warm in jeans, the wet patch of your arousal finally fading. He helps you clean up with some napkins he has stashed in a drawer, ultimately bundling you back up in your coat and scarf. You now look sweet and warm again, a stark contrast to the vixen who had crawled across his desk and stripped for him.

Now descent, you settle back into his lap sideways, opting not to straddle him tis time in case someone did finally walk in. You run a finger through the hair at his chin.

“You said earlier you said you’d ended up setting something up for me. What was it?”

Flip blinks at your question for a few seconds before letting out a laugh that ripples from deep in his belly.

“I sent Jimmy and his brother with a box of chocolates over to the house. They were supposed to sing you a Motown duet.”

“I would pay to hear that. When are they supposed to get there?”

“They’re supposed to arrive right now.”

With that you dissolve into a fit of laughter, falling into his chest as you heave from it. Flip’s arms wind around you and tug you tighter to him. And in that moment, he almost believes in this stupid holiday. Almost believes in the cartoon hearts and the fat little winged baby that flies around shooting people. What else could possibly explain the sharp pain radiating from his chest when he looks at you? The ache that dulls as it floods to his extremities, simmering into a warmth that fills him from head to toe? All Flip can think as he smooths his thumb over your smiling lips is that cupid better have a up-to-date permit for that bow of his.  

~*~

Tagging some lovelies <3 (please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @equivocalrabbit @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

[edie-baby]

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 3 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Pierre Gasly wasn’t quite sure what to do. After coming into the F2 paddock to talk to his future teammate in the Carlin garage, he passed a small girl with pink hair, a pleated skirt and big, chunky boots. She was being guided through the paddock by a woman he had seen around the Carlin garage a few times before. He had heard whispers of a teenage girl taking the ‘spare’ seat for the remaining three races of the season, but seeing her in person completely consumed his mind. Distracted by the bubbly teenager, Pierre almost passed the Carlin garage completely, quickly correcting himself and keeping his head down so he didn’t make more of a fool out of himself.

“Pierre!” Yuki’s high voice called, waving to his friend with a large smile on his face that creased his eyes. Pierre walked over quickly, dapping his friend up and beginning the regular small talk about the car, and the weekend ahead.

“So, did you hear about my new teammate?” Yuki almost giggled. He had seen the reactions throughout the paddock and in the hotel that morning, and knew the Frenchman would have his own thoughts about the pocket rocket.

“The girl?” Pierre questioned, attempting to bide his time and think of appropriate questions to ask. Yuki nodded with a smile, his own thoughts disrupted by the bubbly, high energy, almost crackhead personality of the teenager.

“She’s very pink. I heard she qualified P2. I’m not really sure what to think about her, because I haven’t watched her race, but I guess I’ll see her soon. I saw her talking to Esteban this morning.” Pierre finished with a grimace. The mutual dislike between Pierre and Esteban was common knowledge, however Yuki still found it puzzling when he would speak so openly about how much the other Frenchman gave him a sour taste in his mouth.

“She’s very good. Considering she has only ever raced in go-karts before this, she’s going to give Juri a run for his money this weekend.” Yuki laughed again, already picturing the battles the two Eastern-European drivers would get into over the next 3 race weekends.

“I’ll keep an eye out. I should go back, our quali is starting soon. Good luck Yuki!” Pierre called, waving to his friend before he made his way out of the F2 paddock, and back toward his own.

The sprint race, and ensuing feature race had been entertaining, to say the least. After the shenanigans of the sprint race on Saturday, there was a large spike in viewers for the Sunday feature race before F1’s grand prix. And, as Amelia so proudly reported to Sava later that afternoon, it was the highest ratings an F2 race had ever gotten.

Headlines that Sunday afternoon were emblazoned with Juri Vips and Sava Dvorakova’s names and cars. The two had battled it out all weekend, a few close calls and both drivers finishing a maximum of two-tenths apart. Juri had won the sprint race on Saturday, where Sava came in P2, while she took P1 in the feature on Sunday, with Juri riding her gearbox for the entire race.

To say Dr Marko was pleased was a gross understatement. He hadn’t smiled, nor been so friendly as he was that weekend, since Max Verstappen won his race in Spain in 2016. It seemed to be an absolute miracle, and Alex Albon who had fared quite poorly through the weekend, was thankful to the new driver for cheering up the man who would have ridden his ass to hell and back.

After Sava’s first P1 finish, and the ensuing podium celebration, she was greeted by a few of the F1 drivers who had made their way over to congratulate the enigma. Esteban and Daniel were the first to stride toward her, enveloping her into a three-way hug where she was basically swallowed whole by the tall men. Daniel pinched her cheeks and pushed her around while they discussed her successful divebombs throughout both races, while Esteban leaned his elbow against her shoulder and listened in to the conversation. Both the men bid their goodbyes and left, allowing the next two drivers to approach her. To her surprise, it was George Russell and Lando Norris. She hadn’t interacted with either of them prior, so there was a small moment of internal fangirling before she greeted the men with a smile so large it completely obscured her eyes.

“Hey, we just wanted to say that you drove amazingly. Lando was yelling at the telly whenever you got cut off or nudged away. Alex was going to come over and say congrats as well, but he got held up with Horner.” George explained, his accent processing very slowly in Sava’s head. So, to her chagrin, she ended up staring at the ground, eyebrows furrowed, eyes bulging while she tried to process the words. Even worse, Lando leaned down to look up at her face, laughing that high-pitched squeal of a laugh that finally broke Sava’s concentration.

“Ah, fuck. I am sorry. Your accent, I have not heard one similar before, so it took a few extra moments to process. Sava.exe stopped working for a moment, but I am back, no need to worry. I must say, I am surprised the two of you are here. I thought you would have been concentrating on your own races for this afternoon, especially you, George. You might not be able to lose positions starting at the back of the grid, but you can definitely gain many.” Sava giggled, attempting to convey to George that she really was kidding and hoped it wasn’t a sore subject to be brooching. Lando squealed again, even going so far as to run away before circling back to the small group. George stood there, stunned.

“You just got owned by the new kid!” Lando yelled, pushing on George’s shoulder before the two waved and walked away, seeing the two men standing behind Sava, waiting their turn to speak.

When she turned around, she wasn’t expecting to see the man of her dreams and her teammate waiting patiently. Sava’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, and was left standing in front of Yuki and Pierre shaking like a leaf.

“Pierre, this is Bunny! He wanted to meet you after watching your races.” Yuki smiled down at his teammate who was still unmoving save for the tremble in her hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bunny. It was a really amazing drive today. A lot of those moves require more balls than most of the guys in F1 have.” Pierre smirked, and Sava swore she would have fainted on the spot.

“Holy shit wow, thank you so fucking much. You honestly have zero idea how incredible I think you are. Had I known that my social media would be released to the world, I would have definitely taken down all of my posts singing your praises before I actually met you because now that you’re here it feels fucking creepy. But, I meant everything I said, including the threat about Christian Horner, so if you ask, I will obey.” Sava spoke quickly. She glanced quickly into Pierre’s gorgeous blue eyes, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she had registered them. After she had basically told Pierre, to his face, that she would obey any command he told her, she was whisked away by Amelia toward the media pen, sending Yuki and Pierre a quick wink in the process.

With Pierre caught off guard and staring in the direction Sava had walked off in, Yuki coined the new nickname 'Pierre the Pedo'.

He might have gotten a quick kick to the ass because of that one.

[jewish-space-laser]

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

or

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

 See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you. 

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior. 

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read. 

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite. 

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it. 

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head. 

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking. 

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips. 

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin. 

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you. 

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little. 

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more. 

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do. 

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth. 

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. 

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends. 

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose. 

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this. 

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold. 

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors. 

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered. 

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt. 

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver. 

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing. 

 “You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed. 

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup. 

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed. 

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed. 

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly. 

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.  

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind. 

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes. 

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity. 

He was sure you must pity him. 

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns. 

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough. 

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now. 

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet. 

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets. 

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk. 

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn. 

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin. 

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this. 

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped. 

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind. 

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be. 

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already. 

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really. 

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end. 

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason. 

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything. 

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him. 

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street. 

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time. 

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.  

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

[xxcyj]

Comfort

I wanted to make up for that angst earlier ahahaha So here’s the Yeonjun Fluff I had ready~ Request are open. Right here >>  Masterlist

part 2

Summary: A walk to the bus stop with Yeonjun

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

It was a lazy Sunday in the practice room. Soobin and Beomgyu were both taking naps on the floor, Taehyun and Kai were both looking at memes on their phones. And here Yeonjun was, trying his very best to concentrate while attempting to braid your hair. You watched him from the mirror as his nose scrunches up in annoyance while pulling on your hair lightly in confusion.  Amused by his cute facial expression, you pull out your phone and take a photo. However you forget that your shutter was on causing Yeonjun to snap his head up and see your phone. You giggle as he leans back and jokingly pouts. 

“Y/N, I’m trying my best. It’s not nice to make fun of me.” He mutters as he gets tired of trying and gives up. You laugh at his effort and try to undo the knots in your hair while he goes up to get his phone. 

You had met Yeonjun through a mutual friend and became very fast friends. He soon introduced you to his members, who you got along with just as well however you and Yeonjun remained to be the closest. Usually you’d sneak them late night snacks, you were also their ears and eyes to the unfiltered side of Moa twitter and kept them updated on what fans were saying.

“I need to get going, it’s getting late! I’ll see you guys soon.” You smile at the conscious members as you put your jacket on. Yeonjun was by your side as you waved your goodbyes, it was his habit. He would walk your bus stop and wait with you until your bus came. 

“You know you don’t need to walk me every time. I’ll be alright, not like this is a dodgy part of town.” You say as you both walked out of the building. Yeonjun just shakes his head and brings his arms to his chest.

“Nope, it’s unsafe for a lady to walk by herself in the dark. I don’t care what you say.” He stubbornly replied. You roll your eyes and smile, just happy to talk to your best friend. 

“What a gentleman you are!” You sarcastically remark as you both sat down in the bus stop. He lets out a chuckle and puffs out his chest making you slap his arm lightly and shake your head. “How are you these days though? I know that you guys have started planning for a comeback.” You tilt your head curiously as you await his answer.

“I’m excited obviously but I’m just preparing myself for all the late nights and extreme dance practices. I know I signed up for this and I shouldn’t complain because I have fans who I am deeply grateful for and who never fails to amaze us by how dedicated they are but I’m so tired, this comeback is probably gonna be super busy. I think I’m burning out. I still love being an idol and I love knowing that my music is making an impact in people’s lives but it’s also mentally draining you know? I just don’t want to let down my fans.” He let out a sigh as he titled his head back. “And also it’s just, I know I shouldn’t be reading them but, I see some of the negative things people write about my members and myself and it’s disheartening. We work hard and still some people think that we just leach off the success of our seniors.” 

You watched him air out his frustrations and listen intently. Moments like these was something you treasured close to your heart. Hearing him loosen up and talk about his worries knowing that he can trust you made you admire him. Honestly, when you both weren’t very close until your friend group got drunk and the both of you just vented and ranted to each other the entire night. After that, you were each other’s go to person whenever something was bothering the other. 

“Yeonjun, it’s ok to feel burnt out. You guys have been super busy the entire year, barely getting any breaks. Moas understand that you’re a human as well, they’ll love you either way. People need to take breaks here and there or else we’d fall apart. Everyone knows you love what you do but it’s ok if you just need a little break from it.” You reassure him by rubbing his arm and smiling. “Anyway fuck those people who talk shit. They’re literally just jealous of you. Those people don’t know jack about what you went through to get to where you are now. Trust me, if they even tried to fall what you do for a day, they’d probably quit. They don’t know how hard you work everyday and how much much you’ve had to sacrifice. Send me the links and I’ll cuss them out for you.”

He lets out a hearty laugh and looks at your clench fists, as if ready to fight. “Thanks, I think I will do that next time.” He takes your hands in his and unclenches your fists before patting your head. “You don’t really make for an intimidating person in real life though so let’s try not fight anyone in person.”

“Hey! I can throw a pretty good punch!” You poke your tongue and laugh. 

“Anyway what about you? What’s happening with life in general?” He asks you gently. 

“Well, school is bitch but it would be better if I actually did my assignments as soon as I get them instead of leaving them to the last minute.” You mutter, knowing full well that you were gonna get a snicker from him. 

“You’re just like Soobin. When will you both learn huh?” He shakes his head. “But seriously though, take care of yourself as well. Make sure you eat well or else whatever you study won’t stick. And I also know you just love staying up all night finishing your assignments but you be sleeping. It’s not good for you if you’re running low on sleep.” He says as his hands hands squish your face and stares into your eyes to make sure you got his point. 

Usually you’d roll your eyes and act like an edgy teenager by saying “yes mom.” But something seemed to hit you it hit you at this very moment. You’d only ever seen Yeonjun as a friend, a handsome one at that, but it was always platonic. But something about his smile made you feel electric. You felt butterflies flutter and you suddenly wanted to kick yourself for falling into the falling for my best friend troupe. 

Your distress must’ve been plastered on your face as Yeonjun frowned and leaned his face close to yours as if to inspect your face. You push him back and look away. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something?” He asked seeming genuinely concerned. 

“I- I just got reminded of my mid term paper. Anyway who are you to lecture me about sleep? You’re out here getting maximum 5 hours. ” You quickly say and pat the back of your neck. He just rolls his eyes and smiles. That damn smile. 

“Then you should probably study for your mid terms dumby! Also I’ll have you know I sleep for 6 hours now.” He says as he flicks your forehead lightly.

“Anyway, your bus is almost here so make sure you study hard ok?” Yeonjun says as he helps you up from your seat and wave down the bus. You nod at his instructions and prepare your bus card out. “Text me when you get home ok?”

“I will. Also remember what I said, it’s ok to take break. Please take care of yourself!” You wave as you tag into the bus and sit my the window. As the bus drives past, he waves from his spot at the bus stop and only leaves when he can’t see the bus anymore. 

Holding a hand to your chest, you take a deep breath and release it as you try to calm down the fast beats from your heart. You would find yourself unable to sleep that night.

[supernatural-jackles]

Seeing You Again

Title: Seeing You Again

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 10,871

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Virginity Loss, Implications of Depression,  Smut, Love Lost, Divorce, Tears. Jensen is an innocent, love struck sweetheart.

Summary: Fifteen years had passed since you had seen the love of your life, Jensen Ackles. Your childhood sweetheart, the man of your dreams. The two of you separated against your wishes. Until he walks into your bakery one day without knowing you owned it. You never expected old feelings to resurface, let alone something more

Square Filled: Childhood Sweethearts ( @spnfluffbingo​) First Time ( @spngenrebingo​)

A/N: Happy Tuesday!! My posting schedule is remaining the same from now until the middle of August. You get a new update every Tuesday and Sunday!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy reading! 

  You tied your apron around your waist, making sure it was secure before bunching up your hair in a quick messy bun. It was a busy Saturday afternoon and you had multiple things on the go already.

 You were a baker; at least that was one of your job titles anyways. Business owner, workaholic, you name it. You lived a busy life. You worked six days a week at the bakery you owned in Dallas Texas, and had for the last three years. A successful little place you called Sweethearts. A name you had picked out for longer than you’d ever admit to anyone.

 Every day was something new. A new order, or arrangement of orders. New faces, and familiar faces. The same smiles and thank you’s you got with every purchase. It was something you loved doing. You loved to bake and you loved to see the look on people’s faces when they picked up one of your creations for someone they loved.

 This was your dream, believe it or not. You had always wanted to own your own business and be your own boss. You were never one for following the rules, no matter who the leader was. You never wanted to be some corporate lawyer, or a nine to five, hating every second of life kind of person. You wanted every day to be an adventure. You wanted to be independent.

 You rolled out the fondant on your bakers table, getting ready to throw it over your double chocolate cookie cake for a special order. A lady wanted something special for her son’s tenth birthday so you were making a cookie monster cake in hopes he’d like it. In the distance, the timer for your oven went off, indicating that your in house pie was done.

 Saturday’s were typically busy days. Today was no different. Thankfully you had most of your orders done for the morning. It was only this cake that needed finished before you could take a break and make some simple cookies.

 “Hey Y/N, someone wants to see you,” your assistant called back. You wiped your hands on your apron as you walked out into the front of your shop. An older lady was standing there, a wide smile playing on her lips.

 “Hi there,” you greeted her.

 “Are you the owner of this place?” she asked.

 “Why yes I am,” you nodded. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 “I just wanted to give compliments to you. You run a very nice business. The treats are out of this world. In all my time, I’ve never had a chocolate chip cookie taste so good,” she beaned.

 “Thank you! That means a lot to me,” you nodded with a smile.

 “If you’re not already taken, my grandson would love a woman like you,” she teased, adjusting her jacket around her arms.

 “I’m married to my work,” you told her.  “Someone has to make all the orders.”

 “Well, you let me know,” she winked. “Take care now.”

 You waved the older lady off, watching her walk out the front door of your shop. Each seat was taken. You watched as people sipped away at their coffees and every one of them had some sort of baked good from your display. You were finally doing something right.

 “You know, you’re going to have to settle down someday,” your assistant, Victoria smiled at you.

 “I know,” you sighed. “Someday.”

 You walked into the back, getting back into finishing your cake. It needed to be done in less than an hour for the woman picking it up. You had to get your blue buttercream ready for the top of the cake, and the few cookies you had set aside to finish the top. It was going to be a breeze. You couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she saw the cake. The customer's reaction was always one of your favourite things. You loved seeing their smile.

 You took a deep breath, mixing up the buttercream and food colouring to get the correct consistency. Your mind wandered back to the older lady for a moment. Sure you were thirty one, but you had tons of time to settle down and find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Right now, you were a business woman. You had that and it was one hundred percent what your focus was on. You needed to continue to be successful. Relationships were overrated anyways.

 You poured the buttercream into the piping bag and began your design. You were excited to see how this was going to turn out. If it was good, it was definitely going on your instagram page.

 You could feel the sweat forming at your brow as you continued the last strokes on the cake. It looked amazing if you were to say so yourself. It turned out much better than you were expecting it to, times a million. This was definitely going to make that ten year old’s birthday.

 “Customer is here for the cake order,” Victoria called back to you.

 “Coming right out.”

 You boxed up the cake in a nice blue one you had custom made for purposes like this. It already said happy birthday on the side, along with some balloons. It was all about making the customer happy. You carefully lifted it off the counter and headed out to the front of the store with it in hand.

 “Alright, cookie monster cake,” you smiled, placing it down on the counter by the register, opening it up. “Cookie dough cake inside, along with homemade chocolate chip cookies on top and a blue buttercream topping,” you smiled proudly, looking down at your cake.

 “Gotta say Y/N, I always knew you’d be successful,” a deep voice said. You hadn’t even looked up at the customer yet. That voice was so familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on who it was. Until you finally glanced up. Those piercing green eyes boring into yours.

 “J-Jensen?” you breathed out.

 “You’ve outdone yourself,” he smiled at you.

 “W-what are you doing here?” you cocked your head to the side.

 “My sister in law sent me to pick up the cake for my nephews tenth birthday,” he said. “I had no idea this was your place. Although, I have to say, it’s very you if I remember correctly.”

 “Thank you,” you smiled.

 “How much do I owe you?” he asked.

 “Uh, twenty two dollars,” you breathed out.

 “Do you accept tips?” he questioned as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

 “Yes,” you nodded.

 “Perfect. All I have is a fifty. Keep the change, sweetheart,” he winked. “You certainly deserve it. This cake looks perfect.”

 “Thanks Jensen,” you swallowed hard, not daring to take your eyes off of him. That fucking nickname. The whole reason why this place was called Sweethearts. The man you had fallen in love with all those years ago. “Take care.”

 You watched as he walked out the door with the box in his hands. You couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people you expected to walk in, he was never one of them. The man you had grown up with. The first and only man you had every loved with your whole heart. The one that slipped away.

 “Who was that?” Melaine, your part time girl who helped keep your shop in working order.

 “Just some guy I used to know a long time ago,” you smiled at her.

 “Did you guys used to be together?” she inquired as she poured a cup of coffee.

 “Yeah, for a while,” you breathed out.

 “Well, with the way he was looking at you, I’d say there is definitely some feelings still there,” she chuckled. “I wish my boyfriend looked at me the way Jensen just looked at you.”

 “Who was looking at who?” Victoria popped her head out and asked.

 “A very hot customer was looking at Y/N. Apparently they have history,” Melanie wiggled her eyebrows.

 “Shut up,” you shook your head, trying to repress your smile.

 “Awwww,” Victoria cooed.

 “He had heart eyes for her. Major heart eyes,” she beamed.

 “You guys, he’s an old friend. Nothing more. Now we’re dropping it,” you stated before walking back into the kitchen to begin your clean up.

 Your heart was still racing in your chest. It had been a really long time since you had seen Jensen in person. Sure, you followed all of his social media and kept up with what he was doing. He was an actor and had been for the longest time. He was successful at what he wanted to do and you cheered him on from your own tiny part of the world. But seeing him again after all this time, it wasn’t easy. It made you realize just how much you missed the way he’d call you sweetheart. You missed that in the sound of his voice, which was a lot deeper than it was the last time you heard it directed at you.

 The afternoon dragged on and four became six. Victoria and Melaine cleaned everything out front and took a few things to go home. You were left with closing up and counting the money made in sales before you could head home. You were just packaging up the last of the cookies when you heard the ding of the door.

 “Sorry, we’re closed now. We open back up on Monday,” you called out, closing the packet.

 “Uh, sorry,” the familiar voice said, causing you to look up. Jensen was standing by the door with a nervous look on his face. You swallowed hard, not knowing where exactly you should look at him.

 “Jensen,” you breathed out.

 “Hey,” he half smiled, taking a step forward.

 “Hi,” you said awkwardly, instantly cursing yourself for it. “Did your nephew like his cake?”

 “Oh yeah,” he let out a chuckle. “Said it was the best birthday cake he’s ever had.”

 “Good, I’m glad,” you nodded.

 “How long have you been in Texas?” he asked, making his way over to the counter.

 “Almost thirteen years now,” you told him.

 “T-thirteen years?”

 “Yeah,” you sighed. “I hated it in Minnesota.”

 “You’ve always been a Texan at heart,” he smirked, going quiet for a moment. “You know, you’re even more beautiful now than you were fifteen years ago.”

 “Jensen,” your cast your eyes down, unsure of what to say. “We’re not the same people we were back then.”

 “I know,” he nodded, licking his bottom lip before he looked at you. “Doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

 “What are you doing here, Jensen?” you asked him, opening up the package of cookies, motioning for him to take one.

 “I - uh,” he paused, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I was hoping that maybe I’d catch you before you headed home. Uh, maybe see if you would want to go out for dinner? Catch up?”

 “You sure you want to do that mister famous actor?” you teased him, watching his chest fall as he let out a laugh.

 “So you’ve been keeping up a little,” he said with a chuckle.

 “Here and there,” you shrugged. “I do have to finish up here before I do anything.”

 “Anything I can help with?” He offered as he took a cookie from the packet. You smiled, closing it right, trying not to look at Jensen. “These taste amazing. They are even better than I remember.”

 “Same recipe I used before,” you told him. “If you want to pack up the rest of these while I do the deposit, I’d appreciate it. I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

 “Nah. Put me to work,” he assured you.

 You showed him where the containers were and he got to work instantly, starting from the right side of the display, moving onwards. You headed over to the cash, taking out the register to bring it to your office which was right by the display.

 “How long has this place been open?” Jensen asked you.

 “Almost three years,” you answered, emptying out the till.

 “Gotta say, you’re pretty successful here,” he told you. “Lots of customers. Bakery is amazing. I always thought you’d open up one in Minnesota.”

 “I couldn’t wait to leave,” you admitted. “I lasted two years before I came back to Texas. It’s always been my home.”

 “Your mom still there?”

 “Yeah, with her boyfriend dickwad,” you shared. “At least, that’s what I call him. Not the biggest fan of him if you couldn’t tell.”

 “Your dad here then?”

 “He’s around here somewhere. He stopped talking to me after mom took me away after the divorce was finalized,” you revealed. “Now, he doesn’t talk to me much.”

 “That sucks,” he frowned.

 “How long are you visiting for?” You dared to ask.

 “Few days before I head back. Changed my flight,” he said lowly.

 “When were you supposed to leave?” You cocked your eyebrow.

 “Tomorrow at three in the morning,” he said sheepishly. “But I knew as soon as I saw you-“

 “Jensen, dont,” you swallowed hard.

 “C’mon, it’s not like we parted on bad terms,” he reminded you. “It’s not like either of us had a choice in the matter. You were leaving to move a million miles away.”

 “I know,” you nodded. “But It’s different now. I’m not sixteen anymore. You’re not sixteen.”

 “No. I’m thirty one,” he reminded you. “Back then, we didn’t have cell phones or whatever. It’s different now, but at the same time, it feels exactly the same.”

 “It’s not going to work,” you shook your head.

 “Okay, say you are right,” he paused, glancing over to you in the office. “Will you at least hang out with me for one night?”

 “Considering you probably aren’t going to leave until I say yes, fine,” you stated.

 “You’re not wrong,” he shrugged.

 You finished counting up the money from the day and put it in the safe before locking it up. You pulled your keys out, grabbing your jacket before shutting the door behind you. You took a deep breath, seeing Jensen standing there waiting in anticipation. You knew this was going to be a mistake. You knew it the second he walked in here that this was a mistake. Too much time had gone by between you and you couldn’t let yourself snap back into what the two of you had before you parted ways.

 “Ready?” he asked you.

 “Yeah,” you nodded, tightening your jacket around yourself. Jensen placed his hand on your back, walking with you towards the front doors of your little shop. You pulled your purse over your shoulder before switching keys to lock up the place.

 He stood by the curb, his hand in the air to hail a taxi to take the two of you wherever. You could feel your stomach getting tighter. You were nervous. Something you hadn’t felt around a guy in a very long time.

 A taxi pulled over to the side of the road, stopping right in front of you and Jensen. You let out a shaky breath as he opened up the door, motioning for you to get in first. He joined you seconds later, shutting the door.

 “Hi, could you drop us off at Beertown please,” Jensen said to the driver. A young man who simply nodded his head without a word. It took everything in you not to look over at Jensen. You wanted to so bad. You wanted to see if the freckles still dusted over his cheeks. You wanted to see the greens of his eyes and get lost in the millions of stories he had seen over the years.

 It was a short ride to the restaurant he was taking you to. One of the ones you frequented growing up. You were never legal to drink, but the food was amazing and so was the atmosphere. It was where he took you for your first date. One you’d never forget. You were more nervous about this dinner than you were on the first date.

 He helped you out of the taxi and led you to the front door of the restaurant. You took another deep breath, trying to control yourself as the waiter led you to your table in the back. Somewhere a little more private as Jensen asked for.

 “It feels like it was a lifetime ago that we were here,” he commented.

 “It was a lifetime ago,” you said. “We were fifteen. Still in high school.”

 “Back when everything was simple and all we had to worry about was finals,” he chuckled.

 “That and I remember worrying about my parents fighting all the time. ‘T’s why I spent so much time with you at your place. Your family always got along, unlike mine. I liked it there,” you shared.

 “It sucked a lot when you were gone,” he swallowed hard. “I know we parted on good terms but it was hard without you.”

 “Least you had your friends though,” you reminded him.

 “I still have your letter,” he confessed. “In my apartment in Vancouver. I still have it.”

 “Really?” you breathed out.

 “Yeah,” he smiled. “I wrote you back and then never heard from you again.”

 “Mom was pissed at me,” you sighed. “Moving away from everything and everyone I knew was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. It was worse when she didn’t listen to me when I told her I was struggling. Failed three classes my last semester of high school. Managed to get into UT and left. I was homesick and I missed you.”

 “I missed you,” he stated. “Hell, I went to prom with my buddies.”

 “I think we made it worse for ourselves though, Jensen,” you breathed out.

 “Hey there. What can I get for the two of you?” the waiter smiled, pulling out her notepad.

 “We’ll have two classic burgers, some fries and two of whatever you have on tap please,” Jensen told him.

 “Coming right up,” he nodded, taking off to the next table.

 “What do you mean you think we made things worse?” he cocked his head to the side, folding his arms on the table.

 “I think you know exactly what I mean, Jay,” you said lowly.

 “Are you - do you mean the night before you left?” he furrowed his brows. “The night we-”

 “Yeah,” you nodded.

 “Do you regret it?” he inquired.

 “No. Of course not. But it made everything a million times harder,” you revealed. “It was all I could think about from the time I left until I got there. Even then, I thought it wasn’t going to be so bad because we were both applying to UT and we were going to see each other again soon enough.”

 “But I didn’t,” he frowned. “I left for LA instead.”

 “It is what it is,” you nodded. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not proud of you. I want you to know that. I’ve been following you from the start. I watch every episode, and every movie. I’ve seen your interviews and I follow all your accounts on everything. Hell I’ve even seen some convention footage.”

 “I wish I could do the same with you,” he brought up. “Trust me, I’ve looked and haven’t been successful so far. Made me wonder if you got married and changed your name.”

 “No. I’m not married,” you chuckled. “Not to anyone at least. Work maybe.”

 “Here are your meals and your beer. Enjoy!” the waiter smiled as he placed everything down on the table. He even brought some ketchup for the fries and a bottle of vinegar. You gave him a warm smile with your thank you, looking forward to diving in.

 “What about you?” you dared to ask.

 “What about me?” he furrowed his brows.

 “C’mon, a guy like you has to have a girlfriend,” you teased him.

 “Nope,” he shook his head, picking up his burger.

 “Yeah, I find that very hard to believe. Girls were always fawning over you in high school and I’ve seen what people say about you on the internet,” you giggled.

 “See, the only one that mattered to me was you. You have had my attention since I met you in kindergarten,” he let out a laugh. “My parents always said we were childhood sweethearts.”

 “We were,” you agreed. “You were my first everything, Jensen. Quite frankly, I’m glad you were too.”

 “Why is that?” he cocked his eyebrow.

 “Because you treated me like a queen,” you shrugged, taking a fry off the plate. “You treated me better than anyone’s first boyfriend does at that age. You set my expectations high, which is why I’m not married or with anyone. No one can live up to the simple standards you set when we were sixteen years old.”

 “Good,” he declared. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. Don’t settle for anything less. I was honoured to be your knight in shining armour.”

 “You mean king?” you corrected him.

 “No,” he shook his head. “I’m simply a knight, sweetheart.” And just like that, you melted into the seat. You felt like you were sixteen again, sitting in the passenger's seat of his truck, staring out at the sunset in the field. The little moments that meant a lot to you.

 “Well I beg to differ, darlin’,” you winked, trying to play it cool. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. How could it possibly feel like no time had passed between you? Fifteen years had gone by and yet, you connected if it was just yesterday.

 “I missed that,” he smirked.

 “What?” you cocked your head to the side.

 “You calling me darlin’, or honey,” he admitted almost nervously. “For the record, you made me feel like a king, even if I was a knight.”

 You grabbed your burger off your plate, finally taking a bite from it. The flavours danced on your tastebuds, bringing you back. This whole night was filled with nostalgia. You came to the conclusion that this couldn’t happen again after tonight. It was too hard to sit with him, and reminisce about how great things were many years ago. It was hard to sit with him and look at his soft features you had spent so much time with and know that it was in the past. Jensen was your best friend growing up. He was your rock. Your light in the darkness. But you couldn’t let him back into your life again and have things go sour this time around. You needed to keep those happy memories happy. Not turn them into something you have to speak to a therapist about in two years.

 “When do you leave?” you asked him, taking a sip of your beer.

 “Monday night,” he answered, taking a fry off the plate. “So I’m here another day and a bit.”

 “I’m sure your parents are happy to see you,” you half smiled.

 “Yeah,” he nodded. “They think I work too much. I don’t visit often enough according to them.”

 “Your parents are cute,” you giggled. “They still have your bedroom in tact?”

 “No actually. They did some renovations on the house and turned my room into one of the kids rooms when they have over the grandkids. I’m staying in a hotel for the next few nights. They have an extra room in the basement for me but it’s not ready yet.”

 “Your parents were always the busy type,” you pointed out. “Your mom was always doing something when I was there.”

 You watched as Jensen brought his beer up to his lips, taking a good drink of it. Your eyes wandered over his features once more. His soft hair sticking up and leaning a little more to his right. The crinkles by his eyes made you smile, especially when he did. He was handsome and he only got better with age. He had grown into himself now that you allowed yourself to look at him. He wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore.

 “Can I get you guys anything for dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared away your plates.

 “No thank you,” you mouth to Jensen.

 “No thanks, can we just get the cheque please,” he nodded politely.

 You sat still in your seat, reaching for your phone in your purse to check your messages. This wasn’t a date, you reminded yourself. This was acceptable and this was you check on your business. You had no email orders thankfully and everything else looked fine. It was seeming more likely that you could have a day to rest tomorrow instead of in the kitchen. You took a deep breath, hoping that maybe you and Jensen would part ways after this and you could head home to spend the night in your apartment.

 The waiter came over, placing the cheque on the table. Before you could even look at it, Jensen had taken out his wallet and placed some money inside it. He never let you pay for dinner, even back then.

 “Thank you for dinner, Jensen,” you smiled at him.

 “Thank you for joining me,” he half smiled. “Any chance your night is free?”

 “What did you have in mind?” you cocked your eyebrow.

 “Honestly, nothing. I just don’t want to leave you yet,” he confessed. You were a little confused for a moment. You couldn’t understand why he wanted to spend more time with you. He was a famous actor now. You were a small town girl he was with a million years ago. You had history but this was almost too far. You appreciated his honesty. You just had a bad feeling about this.

 “Jensen,” you breathed out, getting up from your seat. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

 “You feel it too?” he asked, almost sheepishly. You licked your bottom lip, your eyes casting down. Your heart rate picked up a little at his words. There was this awkward tension that had been sitting there with you most of the night, just waiting to make its move. It finally had.

 “Feel what, exactly?” you dared to ask.

 “This awkward weirdness that’s never been there before,” he pointed out. “Something telling you to walk away.”

 “Yeah, I do,” you nodded, adjusting your purse over your shoulder. You let out a sigh. “But there is also this stupid feeling inside of me that’s stopping me from walking away.  That same stupid feeling I got when you asked me to dinner.”

 “That same feeling when you saw me earlier today,” he breathed out.

 “Yeah,” you whispered.

 “C’mon,” he motioned for you to follow him. You nodded your head, letting him lead the way out of the restaurant. The sun was starting to set, creating a nice warm orange tone in the sky. Jensen walked down the sidewalk, a few steps ahead of you.

 What the hell were you doing? You barely knew him now. He was Jensen Ackles, a well known actor. You were Y/N Y/L/N. You owned a tiny bakery. That was your accomplishment. He had everything and so much more. He was the definition of success. Everyone loved him. You are not about to be a part of that. You were not about to be reckless after years of hard work.

 “Jensen wait,” you swallowed hard, as you stopped in front of the park, taking a seat on the bench. He looked at you in confusion before taking a seat next to you.

 “What’s up?”

 “Where are we going?” you shrugged. “What are we doing?”

 “I- I don’t know,” he sighed.

 “I can’t do this, Jensen,” you shook your head. “I’m not doing this. I’m sorry. It was really nice seeing you after all this time.”

 With that, you got up and started walking the other direction. You couldn’t sit there with him. You could go wherever he was going to take you and you certainly couldn’t let yourself get attached to the idea of loving him again. He was your childhood sweetheart. The one who taught you what love was and how to love someone with everything. Too much time had passed and you were two completely different people now. There was no changing that and you didn’t want to.

 “Y/N, wait up,” you heard Jensen call out from behind you, followed by heavy footsteps, indicating that he was running after you.

 “Jensen-“

 Before you could even get a word out, his lips were on yours, kissing you hard. His hands came up to your cheeks, just like they used to when he kissed you unexpectedly. Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you could feel your lips tingling at the sudden contact. You wanted to reach out for him; pull him in close and kiss him like you used to for hours on end. His lips were soft along with the stubble growing on his face. You couldn’t deny kissing him back as your eyes fluttered shut. His breathing was heavy after running, shortening the kiss by quite a bit.

 “Sorry,” he swallowed hard. “I had to.”

 “It’s okay,” you nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. Your eyes cast down for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

 “Look, seeing you - it brought up a lot of memories that I don’t think I was ready for. I never really got over you, you know? You were in my life everyday for eleven years and then you were just gone and I barely got to say a proper goodbye.”

 “You did,” you assured him. “That last night before when we had sex for the first time. That was goodbye.”

 “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said softly. “I don’t want to leave this on bad terms.”

 “We’re not going to,” you assured him. His lip curled upwards as his piercing green eyes met yours. You could feel the tension building between the two of you. His words swirling around in your head. He never really got over you, just the same as you never got over him. He was the one you lost all those years ago and it didn’t seem like he was walking away without a fight. Not this time.

 “My hotel is just down the street. What do I have to do to convince you to come with me?” he smirked, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

 “Depends,” you played. “What are we going to do?”

 “Nothing you aren’t comfortable with,” he said. “I just know I'm going to regret it if I don’t ask you.”

 His words were honest. For a second, you saw a glimpse of a boy you knew a long time ago. A boy who was willing to do anything to put a smile on your face. Deep down, you knew he was still in there. He had to be for people to talk about him the way they did. He was admired by everyone he worked with.

 “Alright,” you agreed, nodding your head.

 “I’m not expecting anything-”

 “I know,” you smiled.

 “So what was Minnesota like?” he asked, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you walked down the sidewalk.

 “Shitty,” you scoffed. “People aren’t that nice. After my first class at my new school, I went into the bathroom and cried. It was the first time I had no one and I was terrified. It’s why I came back to Texas. My mom was too busy with her new boyfriend to even notice.”

 “You didn’t make any friends?” he furrowed his brows.

 “No. Not a single one. I didn’t go to prom. I thought about skipping graduation,” you confessed.  “I never want to feel like that again.”

 “Anyone ask you to prom?” he cocked his head.

 “Yeah, one guy,” you shook your head. “Only because he thought I was a virgin and he wanted to up his score.”

 “Really?” he swallowed hard.

 “I told him I had a boyfriend with a huge dick and I wasn’t interested in contracting herpes,” you let out a laugh.

 “That’s my girl,” he smiled, pulling you in tighter to him.

 “What about you? How many girlfriends have you had since?” you poked his side playfully.

 “Three including you,” he answered. “I didn’t date anyone for a few years after you. I was about twenty when I started dating a girl who was a year younger and that lasted for about a year. She and I just didn’t click after sometime. Then a couple of years later, I met someone who was really cool. We dated for two years before calling it quits. I work too much and so did she. We were just better off without each other.”

 “Sucks when you work a lot in a different country,” you breathed out.

 “It does,” he agreed. “You dated anyone else?”

 “One guy in college for about three years,” you shared. “Justin. Turns out you can date someone for three years and not really know them all that well.”

 “Oh really?” he frowned, leading you into the front doors of the hotel.

 “Yeah,” you sighed. “I called you a king. Well this guy was more like a street rat in the end.”

 “Like Aladdin kind of street rat?” he joked playfully.

 “Shut up,” you giggled. “Worse. Aladdin at least had a good heart. He got the princess in the end. I’m talking about Jafar here!”

 “Fuck that guy,” he stated. “You deserve better than that.”

 “I had better than that,” you reminded him. “You ever think about what would have happened if my parents never split and I never would have left?”

 “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I always come to the same conclusion though.”

 “Which is?”

 “You hating me,” he revealed. “If you never left, we would have made it to graduation and I would have left for LA and it would have been a messy break up and you would have hated me. Or I would have accidently knocked you up and ruined your life and you would have hated me. Say that never happened, I work in a different country and the distance would have driven us apart and you would have hated me. No situation has a good outcome.”

 “You always were an overthinker,” you teased him.

 “So are you,” he chuckled.

 He led you over to the elevators on the right side of the hotel lobby. His arm was still around you, tucking you into him. You had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen as soon as you entered his hotel room. You knew his expectations were low, and you understood that. But god, did you miss him. You never really realized until his lips were on yours. Everything came flooding back to you. Suddenly, you were sixteen years old again and nothing had changed.

 “Jensen,” you whispered as soon as the elevator doors shut. He leaned over, pressing number twenty seven. “I could never hate you.”

 “Yeah, but you could not like me and that’s not something I want,” he admitted. “I’m going to be honest with you here. I know I’m a little off tonight. Not that you could tell, but I can.”

 “You’re a little clingy,” you joked, wrapping your arm around his waist.

 “My best friend got married two weeks ago,” he sighed. “I was one of his groomsmen at the wedding. I just see him with her and how happy they are, and when I did, the first thought that came to mind was you. I still think about you, more than I should. Maybe it’s because we never really split up for a bad reason. Both of us still had strong feelings for each other and we were ripped apart from each other. Then I saw you today, after looking for you for years, in Texas again and I - I just knew I had to take a chance.”

 Your mouth went dry at his words as the elevator doors dinged open on floor twenty seven. You didn’t know exactly what to think. Did he just miss you? Was this a mid life, I’m never going to settle down kind of thing? Was he just thinking of you because of what you had a million years ago. Jensen didn’t know the person you were now. He didn’t know what the last fifteen years of your life were like, and you didn’t know about his.

 But that didn’t mean that you didn’t miss him. After all, he was the only man you had ever loved. You were convinced he was the love of your life for the longest time.

 “W-which room?” you asked him.

 “End of the hall,” he pointed to the left.

 You stepped out first, holding out your hand for him to take. He ducked his head down, trying to hide his smile before slipping his hand in yours. His hands were rougher than you remember them being, and a little bit bigger. Engulfing yours in warmth. You could smile without him seeing. You didn’t want to give away the fact that you loved the feeling of his hand in yours again.

 “Here,” he stopped you, releasing your hand. You stood next to him, watching him slide the key into the door before the green light flashed. He opened up the door, motioning for you to walk inside.

 You could smell the cool hotel room air as soon as you stepped inside. The first thing you noticed was the big window on the other side of the room. It took up the entire part of the wall. The view was beautiful. It was nice to see Dallas from this perspective.

 You turned around, seeing Jensen standing behind you with his hands in his jean pockets. He was looking at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. Your eyes darted to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. He had his bag on the chair next to the bed.

 “So to continue on from what you said in the elevator,” you paused, “you’re in a bit of a dark place, huh?”

 “I was,” he admitted. “Then I saw you today. Randomly, out of the blue. You were just there.”

 “Coincidence,” you shrugged.

 “Or fate,” he swallowed hard.

 “Or fate,” you breathed out. You felt your heart rate picking up as you looked at him.

 “You haven’t changed much,” he said lowly. “You’re still kind, and caring. You still laugh at the same things. Back then, I thought you couldn’t get anymore beautiful. Until I saw you today.”

 “You age like fine wine yourself,” you smirked. “You’re taller, and more muscular.”

 “I grew up a bit,” he chuckled.

 “Still got your cute lil’ bowlegs though,” you giggled, taking a step towards him.

 “Shut up,” he let out a laugh. “God, I want to kiss you again.”

 “What’s stopping you?” You asked him, taking a seat on the end of the bed, looking up at him.

 “Overthinking,” he let out a dry chuckle.

 “Spill.”

 “I could kiss you,” he paused. “But then I know I’m going to want to do it over and over again. I don’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to be the reason why we don’t talk again for another fifteen years.”

 “I think both of us are afraid of that,” you confessed. “But I’m also going into this prepared for that.”

 “So what are you saying?” He asked.

 “I’m saying we have tonight. Let’s just focus on that first,” you whispered. “We can go back to our lives after this.”

 “Can I at least grab your number before you leave?” he asked you.

 “I’ll think about it,” you played, getting up from the bed. “I have to say, it’s really good to see you again.”

 He stepped forward, slipping his hand around the small of your back. You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his touch, craving more of it. This time, you allowed yourself to hold him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You stood on your tiptoes, carefully pressing your lips to his in a hesitant kiss. His grip tightened on you, drawing you in closer as he kissed you back.

 Memories of the past came rushing back to you. Jensen was just a boy you were best friends with. The one you spent everyday with up until the day you left. You remember the day he kissed you for the first time like it was yesterday. Out in the park where you frequented. He sat at the end of the slide, waiting for you to come down one evening. It was just the two of you left. Everyone had gone home for dinner. He was so smooth and cute about it, which was one of the reasons why you fell so hard for him so quickly.

 Every moment from then on led up to now. You wanted this to be another addition to those memories. Your king making his way back to the castle for a moment. You knew it wasn’t going to be permanent and you were almost sure you could handle that, if it meant you had tonight with him.

 You parted your lips, deepening the kiss as your arms tightened around his shoulders. Every so often, his nose brushed against the side of yours. His tongue slipped across yours, and you could taste the beer he had with dinner earlier tonight. You want more of him. You wanted every part of him. His touch had heat pooling in your core. The smell of his cologne only entranced you more. You were headed down a path that you couldn’t turn back from. You weren’t sure you even wanted to.

 “Jensen,” you breathed out, pulling away just slightly, trying to catch your breath.

 “Too much?” he whispered.

 “No,” you shook your head. For a moment, you paused, not sure if this was something he was okay with. You wanted his touch, and you craved it. You didn’t know if it was okay the other way around.

 You released him from your hold. Your hands making their way to your jacket, quickly peeling it off. Jensen stood there, his eyes locked on your every move. In a moment of confidence, you tore your t-shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor. That confidence quickly fell away when you realized he had probably dated models, and seen so many beautiful women that were so much nicer to look at compared to you. God, what the -

 “You’re so damn beautiful, sweetheart,” he said softly. Just like that, one damn word and you were melting into again. He shrugged off his flannel shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He took the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his torso inch by inch. His stomach was soft, just like it was fifteen years ago, only now, he had grown into himself. He had a tiny trail of hairs leading down into his jeans, making you smile. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

 “Jensen,” you whispered, “you’re so handsome.”

 “I’m glad you think so,” he said with a nervous smile.

 “I do,” you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, reaching for the button on your jeans. His hand came up to yours, halting your movements.

 “Is this - are you sure?” he furrowed his brows.

 “For old times sake,” you winked. “Unless you don’t want to.”

 “Fuck,” he smiled, looking down. “For old times sake.”

 You continued to undo your pants while he worked on his own. This was definitely happening and you were more than okay with it. You felt that desire building inside you, and you needed to satisfy the itch. You needed him for so many reasons. He stood there in his black boxers. The outline of his cock making an appearance. He looked bigger now than he was back then.

  You stood there in your bra and panties, unable to take your eyes off of him. You could feel yourself dripping in your panties. God, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his length inside you again. You wanted to hear him come undone to you touch.

 “Do we need-”

 “I’m on the pill,” you told him, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra, letting one of the last articles of clothing fall to the floor. Jensen’s eyes never left your body.  You watched as his eyes darkened at the sight of you. His hands reaching for your body for the first time. You melted into his touch, letting your nerves simmer down.

  “So perfect,” he muttered under his breath. “I can’t keep my hands off you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to.” Your nipples hardened at the coolness of the air.

 You turned in his hold, facing him. His eyes roamed over your body, his bottom lip coming between his teeth. He had such an effect on you and quite frankly you couldn’t get enough now that you had started.

 You motioned for him to get on your bed and he did so quickly. You straddled his hips, your centre lining up with the bulge in his boxers. A tiny wave of pleasure coursed through you as you did. Your lips were on his in an instant, your tongue dancing with his. His hands held you tightly against him.

 Your heart was soaring in your chest as you kissed him. Your hands traced over every inch of exposed skin like it was the first time. You loved the way he felt beneath you. You loved the way you felt in his hold. It was calming, and warm. Jensen made you feel safe and there was no one in the world you could say made you feel that way and you were slowly starting to realize that.

 “Hmm Y/N,” he breathed out. You ground your hips against his, eliciting a groan from his lips. “I’ve gotta have you.”

 “Have me,” you muttered.

 “Yeah?”

 “I like this,” he mumbled.

 “You want me on top of you?” You played.

 “I want you anyway,” he growled.

   You climbed off of him, slipping your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. His eyes hooded with lust and desire as he glanced over you. His smile was soft, and sincere as he did.

 You leaned down, dipping your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his legs. His cock sprang free, hitting his stomach with a soft slap. You smirked, throwing one leg over his lap once more. You took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

 You pressed your forehead to his, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, eyes that you never thought you’d get to look into again. Now he was staring into yours, trying to learn you all over again.

 You sank down on his length, slowly letting him fill you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. The first thrust was always the best. The feeling of being one; of being so damn close to one another. Jensen took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You saw how much they had darkened once he opened them. Your lips collided with his as he bottomed out inside you.

 His hands rested between your shoulder blades, pulling you in closer to him. You shifted, lifting your hips before sinking back down, creating a steady pace that worked for both of you. Jensen’s hands slipped down the length of your back, resting them on your ass to help you move on him.

 “Fuck Y/N,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

 “Jense,” you breathed out. You gripped his shoulders, bouncing a little faster on his dick. A thin layer of sweat began to bead along your skin.

 Jensen held you to him, shifting quickly. Your back hit the mattress. Jensen thrusted into you at a quickened pace. His entire weight was on top of you, adding to the pleasure he brought to you. His cock was dragging perfectly against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer to your breaking point. You could hear the tiny cries that escaped passed his lips as he drove into you. Your nails scrapped down his back, trying to pull him in even closer to you.

 His lips attached to the spot beneath your ear as his thrusts slowed down to almost teasingly slow. You let out a moan as he sucked down softly. The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stood up. He paid attention to you and what you liked. You carded your fingers through his hair, something you knew he liked.

 “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled into your neck.

 His thrusts picked up a little more. You could tell he was getting closer by the way he was breathing. His mouth was ajar, and his tongue just peaked passed his lips. He was fucking gorgeous before he came, and every other time really. But this was different. Not many people had seen this.

 “Jensen, I’m gonna-”

 “Go ahead,” he breathed out. “I’m right behind you.”

 “Come for me, Jense,” you urged him on, trying to keep up with his thrusts.

 Within a few thrusts, your walls were clenching around his cock, squeezing him as pleasure soared through you. Your body was shaking beneath him as you threw your head back against the mattress. Your fingers digging into his back once more. You couldn’t contain your moan, or any of the words that rolled off your tongue. He made you feel so damn good, and you didn’t want to hold back.

 Jensen wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusts became sloppy, and inconsistent. He tried to get as close to you as he could. His balls slapping against your ass. He came with a muffled cry of your name, spilling himself deep inside you. He slowed down, letting his orgasm run its course.

 He lay on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, waiting for his breathing to even out. The second time was even better than the first and you were thankful it was. It was a nice moment between the two of you. Finally feeling him again like you had craved for years after you left.

 “Guess now I can cross have sex with an actor off my bucket list,” you breathed out with a chuckle.

 “Shut up,” he shook his head, grinning into your neck before shifting off of you. He withdrew himself from you, and you instantly felt the loss of him. He hopped off the bed, heading into the bathroom. Your eyes wandered down to his perky ass, watching as he walked away.

 He came back seconds later with a warm washcloth in his hand. He cleaned you up, just like he did the first time you did this together. You smiled at him. He was still that sweet boy you had known all those years ago.

 You made yourself comfortable on the bed, waiting for him to come back and join you. It was just after ten and you didn’t exactly want to leave at this time and make your way home by yourself. You didn’t know if you should stay the night.

 “At least this time I actually get to cuddle with you,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to sneak out the window to head home.”

 “Yeah, that was awesome,” you scoffed. “I wasn’t exactly expecting your brother to come home.”

 “Neither was I,” he shook his head. “C’mere.”

 You inched over to him, throwing your arm around his waist before intertwining your leg with his. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder before placing a kiss to the top of your head. You could feel yourself slowly unwinding from the day. You were up early to start your orders and didn’t stop until Jensen walked in just after you closed. You were exhausted.

 “You smell good,” he muttered, kissing your head once more.

 “So do you,” you yawned. “You also stink of sex.”

 “Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly.

 Your eyes fluttered open to a dark room. The clock in the corner read four thirty six. You were in a hotel room. Shit, you were in Jensen’s hotel room. You glanced to the other side of the bed, finding Jensen laying there on his back. He was fast asleep.

 Guilt rushed through you. What were you doing here? Why were you still here with him? You knew you shouldn’t be. He was Jensen Ackles, an actor. He wasn’t your best friend anymore. He wasn’t that same small town boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. He was a busy, hardworking man now. You were from two completely different worlds. He loved the idea of you and what your past was.

 You carefully slipped out of the bed, trying not to make any big movements that would wake him. You bent down, picking up each article of clothing, putting it back on. You were doing him a favour. You couldn’t be that girl he used to know. You couldn’t give up your dreams for a past dream.

 Tears pricked your eyes as you looked back at him. He was forever going to be the man you had fallen in love with. The one who treated you like a queen. You couldn’t be that for him now. He deserved better than that. He was simply confused and he saw you and thought of an easy way to get what he wanted.

 You tiptoed over to him, leaning over to him. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning to head out. You never expected it to hurt so bad, but it did. Jensen was your happy thought in a world full of misery for two whole years. He was the one thing that got through to you when you felt like giving up.

 You slipped out of the hotel room, quietly shutting the door behind you. As soon as you got to the elevators, the tears slipped down your cheeks. It hurt. God, did it hurt. But you were leaving on good terms. You were leaving after a night of reminiscing and soft touches. A night filled with the same passion you had all those years ago. You wanted it to go that way. You wanted him to remember that about you.

 You took a taxi back to the shop, trying to keep your tears at bay at that time. You must have looked like a crazy person to the older man. Eyes red and puffy heading to a bakery at nearly five in the morning.

 It was just starting to drizzle when you stepped out of the cab after paying for your fare. You had your keys ready in your hand, opening up the door to your shop. Your biggest accomplishment. Everything you had in the small little shop was created by you. You built this. You worked your ass off for this and the way you felt at this very moment - it was like it meant nothing.

 You walked into the back of the building, heading up the stairs to get to your apartment located right above the shop. The only way you could keep the costs low. You opened up your apartment door, stepping inside. The second the door shut, the tears kept coming. You were doing the right thing, you reminded yourself. You were doing what was for the best.

 Monday morning came quickly. For the first time, you didn’t want to get out of bed and start the day. You didn’t want to go to work and you didn’t want to bake something. You just wanted to take a break. You wanted to go back to three days ago when Jensen wasn’t a thought on your mind. When he was just a public figure on the internet.

 You threw on a blue t-shirt and a comfortable pair of black pants. You weren’t bothering with makeup today. You were going to bake and that was it. No customers today. Your sole focus was making cupcakes for a birthday party and a few pies for orders. You could finish by one and go back up to your bed.

 “Morning, Y/N,” Victoria smiled at you, handing you your morning coffee.

 “Morning,” you smiled at her, reaching for your drink.

 “Rough weekend?” she smiled knowingly.

 “You have no idea,” you chuckled dryly. “I know I look like ass. If you and Melanie could keep a handle on everything out front. I don’t exactly want to scare customers away with my grudge look today.”

 “You look as beautiful as always. You’re just too hard on yourself,” she smiled. “We can take care of things no problem.”

 “Thank you,” you gave her a warm smile.

 You pulled some of the already prepared cookie dough from the fridge, placing them on three trays to begin filling things up out front. You had your cupcake batter on the go and your buttercream already mixing in the kitchen aid. The smell was starting to fill the kitchen, making you feel more at ease. This is what you were good at. This is what you loved to do.

 You poured the chocolate batter into the cupcake holders, adding in a little extra to have bigger cupcakes. It was for a girls birthday party. The buttercream was sitting in the mixer. A nice neon pink colour that was going to go well with the dark chocolate cupcake.

 “Hey Y/N,” Melanie poked her head back. “Someone is here asking about the open position.”

 “Oh really?” your ears perked up. “Uh well, send them back here and we’ll take it from there.”

 “Okay,” she beamed, turning away.

 You grabbed your measuring cylinder, placing your piping bag into it so you could get your buttercream ready for when the cupcakes were done. The timer for the cookies went off at the same time. In the corner of your eye, you caught a figure, which had to be the one inquiring about the position.

 “I’ll be right with you. I just have a lot on the go,” you told them, grabbing your oven mitts to take the three trays out of the oven. You had a cooling rack next to your oven, perfect for placing lots of products when they were done. “You’re interested in a baking position?”

 “Yeah,” the deep voice said. You almost stopped what you were doing. You were definitely expecting a female voice. “I’m only available Saturdays, and the odd Fridays. Depending on when I get off my other job and when I can fly in.”

 You turned around, taking a deep breath. Jensen was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He was clearly nervous. He looked about as good as you did, if you were being honest. His eyes were tired.

 “Y-you’re not actually interested in the position are you?” you swallowed hard.

 “I am,” he nodded. “I can’t bake to save my life but I'm interested.”

 “Jensen-”

 “Why’d you leave?” he asked you. “I woke up and you were just gone. No sign you had even been there.”

 “I can’t, Jensen,” you sighed in defeat, moving over to one of the stools by your counter.

 “Why not?” he questioned, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I told you I still have feelings for you-”

 “That’s not enough and you know it,” you licked your bottom lip, your eyes casting down. “Feelings don’t make a relationship work, especially not one between two people that barely know each other anymore. I get that your best friend getting married striked something in you and seeing me didn’t help. But I can’t be that girl for you, Jensen. I can’t drop everything I’ve worked for and that’s why it would never work. You’re an actor who works in a different country. I work six days a week here. Timezones, distance, insecurities, doubts, guilt, and god knows what else will come between us. It doesn’t matter if I still love you or not.”

 “Do you?” he asked lowly. “Still love me?”

 “Of course I do. I never stopped, ” you admitted. “But it’s not enough.”

 “I’m not asking you to give this up for me,” he said to you, taking a step closer to you. “I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

 “This isn’t because of everything is it?” you dared to ask.

 “This is because I love you and I never stopped,” he stated. “I’ll fly down every weekend I don’t work to take a Saturday shift and spend Sundays with you.”

 “N-no,” you shook your head.

 “Y/N, are those cookies done by chance?” Melanie asked sheepishly. “Sorry, I know you’re in the midst-”

 “Yeah, you can take one. They are hot though,” you told her.  She snuck passed you with the empty tray in her hand. She moved quickly, placing eight of them in their places before sneaking back out. The tension was growing in the room.

 “Why not, Y/N?” he sighed in defeat.

 “I can’t be the girl you want me to be, Jensen. I can’t walk red carpets with you and be in the public eye like you are. I can’t be the girl I once was,” you sniffled.

 “And I’m not asking you to be,” he declared. “All I want is you. You and whatever comes with you. Whatever shit you’ve been through, whatever it is. I’ll take it as my own. I just know that I love you and I haven’t felt my heart beat the way it has with you in a really long fucking time.”

 “You could have anyone -”

 “All I want is you,” he repeated. “Long days, phone calls, weekend flights. I’ll do it if it means I can be with you.”

 “I work six days a week,” you reminded him.

 “I’ll work Saturday’s,” he stated. “You’ve already seen me work.”

 “I live in a one bedroom shoe box apartment above this store,” you shared.

 “Is that your attempt to get me to change my mind,” he chuckled, taking the stool in front of you. He placed his hands on your legs, looking at you. “Nothing you can say will change my mind. I looked for you for ten years, Y/N. Now that I found you again, I’m not losing you.”

 “I don’t have money to fly to you,” you argued.

 “Don’t care. I’ve got frequent flyer points,” he smiled. “Anything else?”

 “I think I’m done now,” you admitted with a half smile. “For now.”

 “So do I have the job?” he cocked his head to the side.

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re on probation though.”

 “Is it because I can’t bake?” he let out a laugh.

 “Yes. One hundred percent.”

 “Thank you,” he smiled. “But do me a favour?”

 “Anything,” you looked up at him.

 “Don’t ever leave me in the middle of the night like that again,” he breathed out, leaning over. He pressed his lips to your cheek.

 “Promise,” you agreed. “I gotta work now, darlin’.”

 “Put me to work, sweetheart. I can fit in a couple of hours before my flight,” he winked. “I’ll be back Friday night for three days.”

 “Good,” you beamed, holding your hand out for him to take. You helped him off the stool and led him over to the counter. You handed him an apron so he wouldn’t get his shirt dirty.

 “Hey Y/N,” Victoria smiled as she walked back into your work area. “Did we hire this one?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded with a wide grin. “For now.”

 “Good,” she smiled. “It’s about time you let someone in. Glad it’s heart eyes.”

 “Heart eyes?” Jensen furrowed his brows.

 “You gave me heart eyes when you saw me Saturday afternoon,” you teased him.

 “Crazy heart eyes,” she pointed out. “Break her heart and I’ll break your face.”

 “Victoria,” you said, wide eyed.

 “I don’t care who he is,” she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “I can take on Dean Winchester.”

 “There’s an idea,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your table.

 “What was that, sweetheart?” Jensen smirked.

 “Nothing, darlin’.”

 “Yeah okay,” he chuckled, leaning over to you, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You smiled against him, finally allowing yourself to truly enjoy it for the first time. You really were childhood sweethearts. You only hoped that you became a couple that was destined to grow old together. Either way, you were glad you were entering this journey with Jensen by your side.

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

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