#and for the next ten minutes he wiped down the entire kitchen

[chantalstacys]

.

[cevansbrat0007]

Regrets Only.

Summary: Ari reaches his limit with your latest TikTok prank...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, TikTok Pranks, Shenanigans, Angry!Ari, Brat!Reade, Small Chase Kink, Light Manhandling. Biting, Spanking, Bondage, Handcuffs, Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @jamneuromain. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

In all the times you’ve tried, you’ve never once regretted pranking your man with something you’d seen on TikTok – until today. Yes. Believe it or not, this time you might’ve gone a bit too far. 

Which is why you’re currently holed up in Ari’s fairly spacious closet, sipping on a bottle of water and munching on a granola bar while you wait for the bounty hunter to calm down. You lean back with a sigh, only to wince when you feel a shoe digging into your side. 

You make quick work of tossing it to the other side of the room before returning to the treat in your hand. But just as you go to take another bite, you hear something that makes your stomach sink - even as your pulse spikes. 

And it lets you know that you are well and truly fucked.

Earlier That Day (Roughly Twenty-Seven Minutes Ago)

After a solid ten minutes of vigorous stretching, you bend down to check the laces on your tennis shoes. Once they’re secure, you quietly make your way to the kitchen to retrieve the items you needed for your latest prank. The one you planned to play on your favorite unsuspecting bounty hunter, who was blissfully snoring away on a couch in the living room. 

Now, this particular one just so happened to be a little…bolder than either of your previous stunts. It required more courage, coupled with a dash of bravery, and a well thought out Plan B in the event things went south. 

You open the refrigerator and pull out the pack of hot dogs you’d bought during your last trip from the grocery store. While you’d originally told Ari that you wanted him to put them on the grill, he had no way of knowing that they would also be used to torture him. Common sense told you that you’d be better off keeping that tiny piece of information to yourself. 

Stifling a mischievous giggle, you extract one singular frankfurter from the package before resealing it and putting it away. Next, you move to your utility drawer to gleefully swipe a pair of scissors. 

This was the entire plan. You were going to quietly tuck a hot dog in your man’s zipper, and then wake him up so he could watch you snip it in half with a pair of scissors. In all the videos you watched – and you’d watched a number of them – every bleary eyed victim panicked as if you’d just cut off their actual dick. 

And therein lay the prank. 

The clips had left you in stitches for hours. So much so that Ari had noticed how much fun you were having, only to roll his eyes when you revealed that you were scrolling through his least favorite app on your phone.

Fucking TikTok.

He hated it. You loved it. Frankly, the only reason he even tolerated you telling him about the things you’d seen is because he could tell it brought you joy. 

Excitement buzzes through you as you tiptoe into the living room. You’re grateful to see that Ari is still sleeping, snoring soundly with one impressively muscled arm tucked behind his head. 

With gentle hands, you dutifully undo the zipper of his Levi’s before carefully inserting the hot dog. Since you don’t want to mess this up, you make sure to go slow, taking your time. You just knew this prank was going to be epic. 

Once that’s done, you briefly take a second to wipe your hands on your leggings before taking a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Go big or go home, as they say. 

Leaning down, you grab Ari by the shoulder, attempting to jostle him awake. It takes a couple tries, but he does eventually open his eyes.

“Whaa–?” A grin breaks out across his handsome features as he emerges from his sleepy haze. “Hey, baby.”

“Hiya, Beast.” You offer him what you hope looks like your most unhinged smile and the reveal the pair of scissors that, up until now, you’d kept hidden behind your back. “How’s about I take a little off the top?” You sing, brandishing the shears. 

“The hell?” His confused blue eyes go wide as they follow the path of the scissors. Shock overcomes him as he watches, in what feels like slow motion, as you cut off a sizable portion of the frank. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He roars, grabbing himself as he scrambles off the couch and onto the floor before proceeding to do the funniest, most awkward backwards crab walk you’ve ever seen in your life. 

You double over with laughter as Ari struggles to come to grips with the fact that you definitely did not just make him the next John Bobbitt your Lorena. He’s breathing hard as he rips the hot dog out of his zipper, holding it up to the light. 

“Oh my God, that was amazing!” You wheeze.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” He tosses the damned thing across the room before covering his face with his hands as he wills himself to calm down. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

Wiping tears from your eyes, you decide to put the bounty hunter out of his misery by whispering his least favorite phrase: “It was a prank!” A renewed wave of laughter hits you when you recall just how gobsmacked he’d been by the whole ordeal. God, your sides hurt something fierce. 

“Just what in the ever loving fuck would make you think that was funny?” Ari growls low in his throat as he finally sits up. And the look he’s giving you now…

It’s hot enough to burn right through you. And not in a sexy way.

“That’s just the magic of TikTok, I guess.” Your smile wanes as you watch your severely irritated boyfriend slowly climb to his feet. “I mean, you should’ve seen your face when–”

“When what?” Comes his quiet rumble, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. “When I thought you cut my dick off just now? Is that–is that what you’re laughing about?” The smile he offers you looks a little less than friendly.

“Um yeah. I’d say so.”

Instinct, as well as the need for self-preservation, has you taking a cautious step backwards. You were prepared to run if you had to. It was the whole reason why you’d stretched in the first place.

“Oh yeah?” Ari scrubs a palm over his ticking jaw. “Is that so?”

Instead of responding you decide to simply nod. Oh, and take another step backwards, of course.

“I’m sure that if you’d maybe stop and think about it –”

“Why don’t you c’mere so I can show you just how much I appreciate your so-called sense of humor?” He motions you forward, opening up his waiting arms. 

But you know better. 

“I, uh…” You hedge, bracing your hands in front of you. “Can see you might need some more time to appreciate the joke. So I’m just gonna…um…” You blow out a breath. “Give you some space so you can – eeeep!”

An incensed Ari picks that moment to strike - lunging at you with a speed that belies his size. Thank goodness you’re prepared. Ducking under his arms, you spin around and make a mad dash for the stairs. Squealing, you take them two at a time, hoping to make it to your sanctuary before he can get his hands on you. 

“Get your ass back here, Bird!” 

No way, pal!

Heart pumping, you grab the doorframe and all but slingshot yourself into Ari’s bedroom, slamming the door behind you. While it would only buy you a couple of seconds, that was really all you needed. 

You dive headlong into a nearby closet before swiftly closing the door and hitting the lock. As your chest heaves, you decide to take a seat on the floor before reaching for the bottle of water you’d previously planted in your hiding spot.

After guzzling almost half, you replace the cap. You knew you ought to conserve your rations. Just in case you were stuck here for a while. 

“I’m not on your shit today, baby. Okay? Today your man’s got time!” Ari bellows seconds later. “So, if I were you, I’d come on out now!”

Shaking your head, you vow to stay silent. So you say nothing, even when he tries the knob on the door that separates him from you. 

“Open up, sweetheart!”

Again you say nothing, in favor of unwrapping one of your favorite granola bars. They were the chewy kind, the ones that tasted more like dessert than they did something healthy.  

“I’ll come out when you calm down!” You finally yell back after you chew and swallow. “Fucking Beast.” You grumble under your breath.

“Oh, I’m more than calm.” The weight of his sardonic chuckle is not lost on you. “Why don’t you come on out and see?” You can’t help but jump when one of his fists pounds on the door. “I swear…I just wanna talk.”

“I don’t believe you!” 

“You’re gonna open this door, darlin’.”

“No, I’m not!” You hiss, throwing one of his shoes at the wall for good measure.

“Yes, you are.” Ari hits back. “Now, you can either come out on your own, or…”

“Or else what?” 

“Or, I’ll come in there and get you. And trust me, little Bird…that’s the last thing you want.”

“Yeah?” You spit, meanwhile inwardly lamenting your man’s lack of a sense of humor for the umpteenth time. “Well…” You take another bite of your granola bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

Famous last words.

Ari whistles low, making you shiver. “Wait right there, baby. I’ll see you in a minute.”

You let out a sigh of relief once you get the sense that you’re finally alone. As funny as it all had seemed initially, you were quickly coming to regret this particular prank. The longer you sat in this closet, the more you began to honestly examine – and then reexamine – your life choices.

Perhaps it was time to give your newfound love of pranking your bounty hunter a break. Lips pursed in thought, you allow yourself another bite of your chewy bar. Only to frown when you hear a very familiar sound that fills you with instant regret.  

Apparently Ari had returned. And he’d brought his power drill. Fuck!

Your mouth goes dry as the sound grows louder. And then you’re forced to watch in horror as your man makes fast work of literally removing the closet door from its hinges. It was the last thing you ever expected your normally rather patient and understanding boyfriend to do. 

“There’s my girl.” Ari’s dangerous purr comes as he picks up the now useless slab or wood and sets it aside like it weighs almost nothing. “C’mon out of there so we can talk.” 

When you don’t move, your bounty hunter decides to come get you. He hauls you out by your wrist, making sure not to bruise you in the process.

“Beast, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I mean – ooh!” You scoff, only to rise on your toes when his free hand comes down on your vulnerable ass. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Let me make something very clear here, darlin’.” He leads you over to the bed before sitting down and then pulling you over his knee. “You want to waste time messin’ around on that stupid app you love so much? Fine.” Ari slaps your rump again, forcing you to bury your face in the covers to keep from crying out. 

“But where I’m gonna draw the line right now is you testin’ ‘em out on me. Unless you’re in that kitchen whipping up a new recipe I am not to be your guinea pig. You get me?”

His heavy palm comes down hard again when you don’t respond. This time he takes a moment to massage your cotton covered backside. “Do. You. Get. Me.” Each word is peppered by a solid smack.

“Yes!” You wail, although it comes out slightly muffled. 

Still not satisfied, Ari goes to grip the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down to your ankles, complete with your simple, white cotton panties. “This could’ve been a relaxing Sunday for us, little Bird. Just mindin’ our own business.” You can’t help but shiver when you feel him fondle your upturned ass, molding and massaging your burning cheeks. “But you just had to go and be a brat, didn’t you?”

“I–I’m sorry!”

It was too little, too late. And you both knew it.

“Oh now, you’re sorry.” He mocks before raining down a fury of perfectly-timed smacks. “I love you, baby. I do. But I also know you. You’re not really sorry – at least not yet.” 

Ari eases out from beneath you, all the while demanding that you remain face down with your reddened ass pushed up in the air so that he can enjoy the view while he prepares the next part of your punishment. And you had best believe you feel his sharp teeth sink into the left globe of your ass before he goes.

Consider it a parting gift.

One Hour Later…

And that’s how you found yourself handcuffed to the bed, courtesy of the signature purple, butter leather cuffs he’d had made for you. Unfortunately for you, you’d learned that he’d recently purchased another set…

For your ankles.

Your bounty hunter smiles as he picks up one of your vibrators – the one you’d purchased together – before applying it to your already oversensitive clit. Bucking your hips, you try to escape the torture.

With no such luck.

You desperately tug at your restraints, even as your cries fall on deaf ears. No matter how many times you promised to never play another prank on him ever again, it still wasn’t enough. Instead he’d continued to keep you bound while he worked out his anger…

By ruthlessly overstimulating your poor, sweat slicked body. No matter how many times you came, no matter how many times you threatened to scream yourself hoarse, he kept demanding more.

Because, according to Ari, since you’d taken a few years off his life, you apparently owed him as many orgasms by way of apology as you were able to give. Which meant you were going to be sore as hell tomorrow. 

Which was why, in this moment, although you could feel another orgasm threatening to overtake you, you were filled with nothing but…

Regrets only.

END  

Official Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

@gh0stgurl

@blogbog710

@sincerelytlh

@gummydummy19

@steviebbboi

@patzammit

@curls-and-eyeliner

[shadesslut]

can i request a little ethan smut with a big size kink. man is 6'2

Thank you for your request! Enjoy!

fucktoy

MINORS DNI

Pairing: (Ethan Landry x Short!Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Size kink, smut)

Summary: Ethan just loves how small Y/N feels in his hands.

Masterlist

✮

✮

✮

It was supposed to be a peaceful night for Y/N. A night full of reading and drinking wine, while listening to her music. She sighed in relaxation as she flipped to the next page. A loud crash came from the kitchen, and she flopped her book down on her lap, sighing. Ethan was working in her kitchen fixing the pipes under her sink. The noises had occurred for the past two hours, interrupting her every ten minutes. 

She huffed, swinging her legs off her bed as she stood up. She marched into the kitchen, crossing her arms over her sleep-shirt. “Are you almost done?” 

Ethan tilted his head from under the sink, his crooked smile showing as he saw her. He had grease on his face and white tee. 

“Almost, sorry,” Ethan said. 

“It’s okay. Hey, it’s getting late, maybe you should stop for tonight.” Y/N suggested, hoping Ethan would leave so she could continue her reading in silence. He glanced at the pipes one more time, and then back to her before sliding out. He stood up in front of her, towering over her. She gulped and stepped back. His shirt hugged his torso well, and Y/N let her eyes wander down to his hips. She felt small near him, the man was six feet tall. She had to crank her neck back to be able to make eye contact with him. 

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan softly asked, wiping his hands on the dirty rag in his hands. 

“Pft yeah, I can last one night without cleaning the dishes.” She chuckled, swatting her hand sarcastically. “You wanna use my shower?” She asked. She jokingly pinched her nose and squinted her eyes.

Ethan laughed with her, shaking his head. “Oh, whatever, and sure if you don’t mind.” He smiled. 

–

She waited anxiously on her bed as the shower ran, just finishing washing Ethan’s clothes. The thought of Ethan, naked, showering in her bathroom made her face warm. She tried not to think about it, trying desperately to read her book, but she had been on the same page for twenty minutes. She put her book down, and she glanced over at the bathroom door. 

Slowly, she reached under her blanket to her shorts. She gently applied pressure on her clit, softly gasping at her touch. She closed her eyes and thought of Ethan, thought about showering with him. If he would kiss her as he rubbed soap over her breasts, or if he wouldn’t clean at all and just pound into her against the wall.

She quietly whined his name as she touched herself, but quickly pulled her hand out once she heard the shower turn off. 

“Ah shit,” she heard his voice muffled. The door opened, and Y/N’s mouth dropped to the floor. Ethan awkwardly stepped out, towel wrapped loosely around his waist as he held it with one hand. His entire chest was revealed, showing off his glistening abs. A trail of dark hair rested right above his, well, you know, and his v-line was prominent. His hair was still sopping wet, and a few strands stuck out as it dripped water. 

“I’m so sorry, but you have my clothes.” Ethan spoke nervously. Y/N only stared, not processing anything Ethan had said. Ethan’s cheeks turned pink, and he shifted awkwardly. “Y/N? My clothes?” 

“Fuck-Sorry,” she whispered, reaching over to grab his neatly folded clothes. She held them out for him, and he smiled nervously as he walked over to her. He didn’t grab them though. He only stood above her, looking down at her. Her eyes were met with his upper stomach, the height difference making her knees go weak. “Ethan…?” She trailed off, looking up at him. 

He wore a desperate and hungry expression. Before she knew it, he pulled her to him by her hips, causing her to gasp in surprise. His clothes dropped from her hands, now long forgotten. She let out a muffled “Umph!” as Ethan forced his lips on hers. 

His lips moved in a desperate motion, as if she was water and he had been thirsty for a week. He was sloppy, not caring about perfecting his movements. She, on the other hand, was careful with hers. She traced her fingers along his stomach, barely grazing.  

Her fingers stopped at his happy trail, and she flicked her eyes downward. He noticed, and chuckled as he followed her gaze. 

“You want me to take the towel off or do you wanna shove your pretty little head under it?” Ethan whispered lowly, bending down, lips grazing her ear. She involuntarily whined. Never in her life had she felt this turned on. 

“Take it off,” she whispered, partly asking and partly telling him. He breathed heavily and stared at her as he unwrapped the towel, letting it fall to his ankles. Her eyes widened at his half-hard dick. He was far bigger than she imagined, and he wasn’t even fully hard. 

She was entranced, she never looked away for a second. Her eyes followed the vein that ran up the underside of his dick, finishing at his soft pink tip. He stood confidently, slightly leaning on his hip as he stared down her shirt. His hand grabbed at her chin, and he lifted her head up to meet his gaze. Pulling her towards him, he placed her hand on his shaft, squeezing his fingers around hers. 

His eyes closed at the pressure, and he smirked pridefully looking at her again, this time his eyes gazing at her lips. He kissed her on her neck, finding every sweet spot. She never noticed how small she felt in his hands, his hand covered her whole tit and some of her upper stomach. He had to arch his back over just to be able to reach her lips with his. 

She whined as she stroked him slowly. He was painfully hard. Her small fingers could barely wrap around him, and he thought it was the hottest thing ever. “You’re so small,” he whispered against her neck. 

“You’re so big,” she said, not referring to his height.

Ethan chuckled. Feeling exposed, Ethan started to raise the hem of her shirt up, pulling it over her head. He smiled, looking her up and down. “What?” she huffed as she started to become shy.

“I wonder how small your pussy is. You think I’ll fit?” He didn’t let her answer, only shoving her against the wall. She gasped, his hands flipping her around by her hips. He pulled her shorts and panties down, and he pressed his pelvis against her back. “So short, ‘m gonna have to hold you up,” he mumbled. 

He hooked her right leg onto the crook of his forearm, her knee sliding up the wall. She silently cursed in her head as she knew what she was about to go through. He softly kissed her shoulder, and whispered, “This okay?” 

She nodded, her cheek pressed against the wall. He inhaled deeply as he stuck his face into the crook of her neck. Slowly, he slid inside of her. 

The stretch was painful, but felt so good. “Too much,” she whined.

He only laughed, inching further inside her. “I think you can take a bit more, right?” He teased. She nodded obediently, and he thrusted all the way inside her.  He groaned as he slipped fully inside, his face growing hot. He fit beautifully in her cunt, stretching her enough to make her eyes water. His hands encircled her love handles and thigh, squishing her flesh. 

His muscular chest slid against the small of her back as he moved his hips. His arms flexed, his grip on her tightening by the second. “That’s it,” he grunted, slapping her ass. He slightly lifted her other leg up, her body now fully off the ground. She felt so small in his arms, like his little doll, his little plaything to fuck. “take my fucking cock,” 

She squeezed her eyes closed at the pleasure. She arched her back against him, gasping at the new angle he thrusted at. He hit her g-spot, and she unsubconsciously clenched around him, swallowing him even more. She felt her stomach feel weird, and she felt his cock twitching inside her. 

His hand reached to her stomach, lightly pressing down. He felt himself moving, smiling at how deep he was inside her. 

“Can feel me ripping you apart, baby.” 

She moaned in response. 

Wet, lewd noises filled her ears. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he continued to pound into her. It was too much for her, he was too big, too thick. She knew for sure she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

“Yeah, oh fuck yeah,” he moaned, speeding up his pace. “‘M getting close,”

Her head threw back, and she opened her mouth at the speed of his pace. No one else would ever make her feel this good, and the fucker knew it. She reached behind her to rest her hand on his hips, lightly squeezing. “I’m gonna, gonna,”

He nodded frantically as he threw his own head back. He was fully pressed against her back, pushing her roughly against the wall. He rolled his hips into her, his hold on her small thighs slowly growing weaker and weaker. He looked at the hand that still rested on her belly bulge, and that was it for him. He came, and he came hard. He spewed inside of her, already feeling his liquid slide out of her. She didn’t finish, but she was satisfied. She only wanted to be a little fucktoy for Ethan. No regards to her needs, only his. 

He whimpered, pulling out, and immediately the white liquid rolled down her thigh. “Fuck,” she whispered watching it drip out of her cunt. Ethan’s forehead was pressed against her shoulder, his chest rising up and down.

��Next time,” he panted, then smiled. “I’m gonna tie you up,”

[folkloresthings]

TOLERATE IT / FA14.

in which the older sister of lando norris finds herself teetering dangerously towards the precipice of her brother’s, significantly older, colleague.

( fernando alonso x norris!reader )

track one: gold rush. track two: delicate. track three: labyrinth. track four: false god. track five: happiness. track six: the 1. track seven: daylight. track eight: lover.

✩⡱ warnings: age gap! reader is 25, fernando is 41.

TWITTER.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by isahernaez, estebanocon, and 78,294 others

yourusername back in london town

view all 12,444 comments

landonorris mum asked if you’re coming to dinner on sunday?

⤷ yourusername tell her yes, i’ll bring dessert, and please teach her how to text

user queen is back in the same city as me i might cry

lewishamilton i’ll be around next week, we should grab coffee!

⤷ yourusername only if you bring roscoe

⤷ lewishamilton yes ma’am 🫡

user im going to miss her in the paddock :(

⤷ user fingers crossed she’s back after the break

it was rather refreshing, to be back in your own apartment after weeks of living hotel to hotel. knowing where everything is, cooking for yourself, spending every night under your own covers. granted, after nights spent close to fernando’s side, your double bed felt much emptier than it did before.

with the summer break begun, the lack of work was leaving you with little to do. and the apartment had been sitting empty for weeks, desperate for a deep cleaning. so, clad in an old shirt and some shorts, you got to work. halfway through wiping down the entire kitchen, your phone rang, silencing the nineties hits playlist you’d had on.

hurrying over in your fluffy socks, you glanced down at the ringing screen. fernando. you hadn’t seen him since that morning lando had shown up in your hotel room. frankly, after your conversation with your brother, you fled the country as quickly as you could.

“hi,” you greeted him tentatively, after answering the call. he was quiet on the other end, your heart picking up its pace with every moment of silence.

“you left without saying goodbye,” he eventually speaks, voice monotone and heavy. you curse him mentally for being so unreadable, so plain when he wants to be.

you sigh, a finger rubbing your brow bone as you settle yourself on the couch. “i’m sorry, ‘nando.”

you weren’t sure of what else to say. you glanced at the time, ten minutes past eleven, wondering what time it was where fernando was. still in belgium? back home in spain? he wasn’t here, and that seemed to squeeze at your heart.

“so, what does this mean?” the question you had been dreading. the question you had asked yourself the whole plane ride home, and every moment since.

“i don’t know,” you murmured, truthfully. “it’s so complicated. if… if we keep this up, we’ll only get attacked. and lando will constantly be on edge — i don’t know if he could ever really accept it.”

“we could make him—” fernando begins to argue, and you can hear the frustration in his voice now.

“please, just listen.” he falls quiet and you lean back into the cushions. “i won’t be able to live knowing my brother didn’t approve. i can’t lose him, ‘nando, he’s my best friend. but…”

your lip wobbles, a tear slipping down your cheek. one you quickly wipe away, willing your emotions to get back in shape. fernando notices the shake in your breath, and his heart breaks when he realises he can’t do anything to help.

“but… the time we spent together, it was wonderful. you’ve taken my whole heart and i’ve happily let you keep it. it’s not something i want to let go of.”

“can’t we have both?” fernando asks, ready to beg you to stay. “lando will come around. and who cares about the press? we’d have each other, that’s what matters.”

“and what if it goes wrong?” you ask, almost too sharply. “what then? i can never come to a race again, because i won’t be able to face you? or we make it awkward between you and lando? he really looks up to you, fernando.”

“what could go wrong?” he asks, though he knows the answer. he knows about his own mistakes, and the reputation that came from it. but he would never dare break your heart, for it would only ruin his own.

“fernando…”

“mi amor, please…” he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, because he is desperate. desperate to love you, to have you forever. “at least let us try.”

you consider it for a moment, you really do. torn between the possible love of your life and your baby brother, the hellish debacle of the century. but blood ran thicker than water, right?

“we never should have started this,” you brave the words, though they stab you in the process. but you know the only way to do this is to hurt him, to give him a reason to stay away. no matter how it kills you. “we can’t go on. it’s not like it ever could have worked, and you know it’s true.”

“no,” he replies firmly, holding himself together. “no, i’m not letting you go that easily.”

“i’m sorry, fernando. try and enjoy your break, okay?” you click the red end call button before he can reply, turning your phone off and sinking into the cushions, body soon racking with gentle sobs.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 302,834 others

lando.jpg home sweet home

view all 89,270 comments

user back with the y/n content, the people’s princess 🫶🫶🫶

pierregasly y/n’s cooking 🔛🔝

carlossainz55 i want a norris family dinner rn

user Y/N’S SO CUTE

fernandoalo_official enjoy ❤️

writers note: whoopsies. this is short sorry i’m super duper busy atm 💌

[nctnanajaemin]

my brother's bestfriend pairing: lee jeno x na!sister reader chapter eight word count:0.9k warnings: pregnancy/child birth

jeno and you have been together for two months now. you just got home from your sixteen-week ultrasound to find most of the guys' cars in the driveway.

the two of you walk into the living room and the entire group is sprawled out across the room, all clearly waiting for you.

"what are you guys doing here?" you ask, looking at the excited faces of the boys.

johnny points to jaemin. "he said you had an important appointment today, and then he refused to tell us anything else."

you roll your eyes, shooting a glare in jaemin's direction. "we just had a routine ultrasound. nothing too exciting."

"then why wouldn't jaemin tell us what it was for?" taeyong asks, clearly not buying your lie.

"i don't know. probably because he's trying to be annoying."

mark laughs. "you are the worst liar i know. come on, just tell us what's going on."

you glance at jeno, silently pleading for help, but he just shakes his head and smiles.

yuta leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "you know we're not going to stop asking until you tell us, right?"

doyoung nods in agreement. "yeah, might as well just tell us what it is now."

you groan, crossing your arms over your chest. "fine. we found out the sex of the baby."

a chorus of excited gasps and cheers erupts from the group.

haechan jumps up from the couch. "well, don't keep us waiting! is it a boy or a girl?"

"it's a boy," you reveal, and they all immediately start celebrating.

chenle gets up and approaches you and jeno, pulling you both into a hug.

jaemin is next to hug you and you give him a playful shove. "you couldn't let us have one peaceful moment, could you?"

he laughs. "nope. where's the fun in that?"

----

you are officially 39 weeks pregnant, and the anticipation of meeting your baby boy is at an all-time high.

"morning," jeno greets you with a smile as you shuffle into the kitchen.

"morning." you reply, rubbing your belly absentmindedly. "any exciting plans for us today?"

"i figured we could watch some movies or take a walk. whatever you're up for."

you nod and walk over to the table.

as you sit down, you feel a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. you wince and try to play it off but jeno notices.

"you okay?" he asks, setting down the spatula.

"yeah, just a cramp."

breakfast goes by and you and jeno are settled on the couch to watch a movie.

halfway through, another wave of pain hits you, stronger this time. you groan and clutch your stomach.

"okay, that didn't look like just a cramp," jeno says. "we should probably get you to the hospital."

he helps you to the car and quickly runs back inside to get the bags.

once at the hospital, the staff quickly gets you into a room. your water breaks as you are changing into your gown, and it causes the contractions to become ten times worse.

jeno takes your hand in his and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face as the nurses prepare everything for your delivery and coach you through each contraction.

after about an hour, the doctor comes in to check your progress and confirms that it's time to start pushing.

you follow the doctor's instructions, squeezing jeno's hand as you push with all your strength.

"that's it, you're doing great," the doctor encourages.

you continue to push and after what feels like an eternity, you hear the baby crying.

they lay him on your chest and start to clean him. you look up at jeno and he wipes your tears.

"you did amazing." jeno whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "i'm so proud of you."

"do you want to cut the umbilical cord?" one of the nurses asks and jeno nods.

he cuts it, and she takes the baby over to weigh him.

after a few minutes, she brings him back, swaddled. "if you need anything just hit the help button. congratulations."

"thank you."

she follows the other nurses out of the room and you move over some so jeno can sit beside you on the bed.

"he's perfect," jeno says softly, his voice cracking.

"he is. he looks so much like you." you tell him, unable to take your eyes off the tiny human in your arms.

jeno smiles and gently runs his finger over the baby's tiny hand. "he has your nose."

you look over at jeno. "do you want to hold him?"

he hesitates. "i-i don't want to drop him or something..."

"you're not going to drop him," you reassure him.

"okay."

you carefully transfer the baby into his arms, and he fusses a bit but settles, nestling into jeno's chest.

"he's so tiny," jeno murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't believe he's finally here."

"me neither. you’re going to be an amazing dad."

"i hope so. i want to be everything he needs."

as the hours pass, you both settle into a routine.

the nurses check in periodically and answer any questions you have.

eventually, the baby falls into a deep sleep. jeno carefully places him in the bassinet beside your bed and looks over at you. "you should rest. you've had a long day."

you nod, slowly starting to feel tired. "i will. just stay close please."

jeno smiles and sits down in the chair beside you. "i'll be right here."

with his comforting presence beside you, you close your eyes and let yourself drift into a much-needed rest.

-

taglist:

@nosungluv @icesscoups @sunghoonsgfreal @camosh @vltevgrdn @minkyuncutie @neobowlingshoez @luvjoongz @llallisa653 @shqqna @dojaejunging @nanaleehyuck @zolpidream @ch3rrych3s @gusgus0517 @1800-love-me @itsblueberry @cherryxvalentine @luvlyjaemin

[pimosworld]

The story of us chapter 3

Pairing -Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary-Set before the reader and the boys are officially together and how it all came to be.

CW-18+,MDNI,individual warnings for each chapter.Angst,fluff,comfort,mentions of ptsd,cursing,mlm, brief mention of homophobia,mentions of sex, canon events,we hate tom. Please let me know if I forgot any warnings.

WC-3.7k

Chapter Summary- The boys discuss your future and your past.

Not beta read

Notes-See Masterlist for full story notes

[Series Masterlist]

Chapter III The deal is off

——————————————

The further he gets from your house the more you feel the weight lifting off your shoulders. You glance up at Benny watching his eyes as he makes sure your boyfriend ex gets in his car and drives away. You don’t know if he even realizes he’s rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder to steadily ground himself. 

  “I hope you don’t mind if we stay?” He glances at you with those puppy dog eyes and you can’t resist. 

  “I would be upset if you wanted to leave.” You can feel him relax against you as he breathes a sigh of relief. 

  “Come on honey, let's go inside.” You’re too exhausted to notice him helping you through the most menial task of standing and walking inside your own house. 

  As you enter you see Frankie putting your table where it should be and Will surveying the hole in your wall and Santi…grabbing his keys? Of course he was leaving, all of this was too much. You couldn’t ask him to stay after dealing with your shitty ex. His eyes meet yours and you desperately try to wipe the tears welling in your eyes,putting on the best Im okay smile you can muster. 

  As if he can read your mind he strides over to you with confidence as he pulls you into a tight hug. You can smell his cologne on his neck as he cradles the back of your head with one hand and places a soft kiss on your temple. 

  “Cariño I’m not leaving, I just need to grab something from the truck.” You reluctantly let him go and have a seat on your couch. 

  The events of the last few hours seem like a blur. You have so many questions you need answers too but is now even the right time to ask? What are these feelings you have brewing for the men you’ve known your entire adult life? It has to be the vulnerable state you’re in causing these inappropriate thoughts. You had a boyfriend less than ten minutes ago. A poor excuse for one and frankly seemed like your only option. 

  You’re pulled from your thoughts when Benny plops down next to you and grabs the remote. Frankie sits on the other side of you and pulls you against his broad chest relaxing against the arm rest. Okay so we’re not going to talk about it…that’s fine with me.

  “I’m gonna come fix the hole on Friday, it’s my day off.” Will states as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab some beers from your fridge. You’ve missed the way they all fit into your life so easily. You’re trying your best to choke back the tears that have been threatening to spill since they arrived. 

  Santi toes the door open with his boot as his arms are full of grocery bags. “ I got all your favorites honey.”  You can feel the lump tightening in your throat and your chest constricting-what is happening?

  “Well I know what we’re watching.” Benny smiles at you as he selects the Mummy  your favorite  from the Netflix recently watched list.

�� You’re getting hot and they feel too close, it’s all too much. Not addressing the elephant in the room shouldn’t be this hard but it’s making your skin crawl. 

  Will comes over and hands Benny a beer as he gets comfortable on the loveseat. “I think Santi is making you something stronger.” He winks at you and you’re grateful you’re seated because you would have been in a puddle on the floor at that moment. Are they doing this on purpose?

  Santi rounds the couch and sets his beer and your margarita on the coffee table. 

  “You’re in my seat.” 

  “Come on man there are no assigned seats.” Ben whines as he slumps down to the floor in front of you. Always doing as he’s told despite the protests. 

  You’re surely on the verge of a heart attack as the pain surges through your chest. The lump in your throat makes it hard to swallow and you don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath. 

  Frankie senses too late what is happening as you stiffen against him, your shirt is clinging to you and your breaths have become ragged, you grip his thigh trying to ground yourself as the pressure consumes you. 

  “Honey?” You don’t hear him call you as he leans in, drowned out by your own thoughts of why you deserve this treatment. Too caught up in your self loathing to comprehend that they’re trying to pull you out. 

  Santi hands you a Reese's, your favorite candy. You stare with your palm open like it holds all of life’s answers. The damn breaks as you sob into Frankie’s chest. They’re all staring at you wide eyed and concerned as he consoles you. 

  “Shhh… I know it’s a lot. It’s gonna be ok hermosa.” 

  He knows all too well how it feels when you're drowning above water. No one can see the signs until it’s too late. The feeling like you’re suffocating but you have plenty of oxygen at your disposal. Every breath you take isn’t enough to stop the barrage of tears once they start. 

  “I told you to get sour patch kids.” Ben half whispers to Santi. Your crying turns to laughter and you’re sure they’re convinced you’ve lost your mind. 

  You take a few deep breaths into Frankie’s chest, inhaling his woodsy scent and faintly hearing his coaching your breathing. You can feel the steady rise and the fall of his chest. 

  “Thank you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

  Frankie squeezes your shoulder simultaneously with Santi squeezing your leg. A calm silence falls over the group as the tension recedes from your body. 

  “Sweetheart you don’t have to thank us, you’ve saved us more times than this.” Will…always the voice of reason. “This is our fault.” You open your mouth to protest but he raises a gentle hand. 

  “We’ve let you save us too many times, we’ve become so reliant on you that we failed to see when you needed us.” 

  You don’t really know what to say at this moment so you open your favorite candy and take a bite. It’s never tasted this good. You give Benny the other half as he half bites your finger causing you to giggle. You offer one to Frankie and he happily obliges. 

  “Mmm my guilty pleasure.” The double meaning is lost on you.

  You offer one to Will and your fingers brush as he takes it from you. “Only because you offered.” Ever the gentleman.

  “Before you even offer I’m not eating it.” Stubborn as a mule. 

  “Santiago…if you don’t take it I'm going to cry again.” Not your best tactic but it will surely work. 

  He groans in protest as he takes it from your hand.

  “You have to eat it too.” Frankie barks out a laugh that makes you swell with pride. 

  “That’s my girl.” He whispers in your ear as he squeezes your waist. The barrage of emotions you’re feeling right now can only be described as delirium. 

  “As you wish for cariño.” Santi slowly puts the chocolate in his mouth, not breaking eye contact. The air in the room is leaving for completely different reasons. You are in trouble

Three margaritas deep and your sadness has quickly been replaced by your drunken state. 

  “Please just admit they’re all hot.” 

  “Honey, you say this every time we watch this.” Benny is resting his head on the cushion between you and Frankie. 

  You’re playing with his hair as he leans into your touch. 

  “Tell me…you don’t think they’re attractive?”  The alcohol has you feeling a little bold and relaxed. Something you haven’t felt in weeks. 

  “Oh they’re definitely attractive…so how did you end up with Mike if you find them attractive?” Frankie slaps him in the back of his head as a hush falls over the room. 

  He’s right, how did you end up with him? You can’t even be mad at his question. You can however dish it back.

  “I can’t date all of you and evidently you’re the most eligible bachelors in town…so the rest of us get Mike and people like him.”

  You miss the knowing glances they all send each other as your head slumps back on Frankie’s shoulder.

  You don’t know when you fell asleep or how you ended up tucked into your bed but a sudden panic falls over you at the thought of being alone. That is until you hear the low sounds of the tv still on in your living room and the not so quiet sound of Benny's voice. You can sleep peacefully knowing they would never leave.

  ****

  “Will you lower your voice,you’re gonna wake her up.” Santi bristles at Benny as he emerges from your kitchen with more beers. 

  Benny has had his fair share of tequila and can’t possibly be in control of the octave in his voice. 

  “Listen…all I’m saying is we already spend every moment of our lives together,it wouldn’t be that big a deal.” He’s half whispering and shouting and his brother just rolls his eyes. 

  “No.” Santi deadpans just staring at the tv, anything to take his mind off the ridiculous proposal from Benny. He looks to Frankie for some help but he’s too preoccupied with the animated way Benny is flailing his arms as he talks and he knows he’s lost his comrade to the tequila as well. He’s seen that look in Frankie’s eyes so many times. The look he’s given him when he’s feeling flirtatious. The look you all give each other from time to time.

“I don’t recall you being the boss of me Santiago.” He says in a sing-song tone, Frankie can’t help the giggle that escapes him watching the antics unfold.

  “You’re outnumbered anyway,Frankie was already planning on asking her out and I know my brother is in love with her.” 

  “Leave me out of this.” Will says half asleep from the loveseat. 

  “I would rather have her in my life and be alone than not have her in my life at all if me or any of you idiots broke her heart.” 

  A silence falls over the room as they all ponder what life would be like without you in it. 

  Surprisingly Frankie breaks the silence first before Benny can cause anymore annoyance to his half drunk and sleepy cohorts. 

  “We almost didn’t have her in our lives because of that asshole…so I’m willing to try and see where this goes.”

  Santi huffs a laugh to himself as he runs his hands down his face. “And you’re both gonna be fine with whoever she chooses?” The question on everyone’s minds lingers in the air. 

  “I trust you guys more than anyone and I’d be happier if she was with one of us than some guy I know would break her heart.” Benny always wore his heart on his sleeve,never backing down to defend one of them or you. 

  “Fine…do what you want but when it all blows up in our faces just know I will never forgive you for ruining what he had.”

  Benny leans back against Frankie on the couch, a triumphant grin on his face as he’s lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest. He is so content like this, dreaming of you and finally able to relax for the first time in weeks knowing you’re safe and he has everything he could ever ask for under one roof. 

  It’s settled then, the deal is off.

  ***

10 years ago

  They’re all crowded into the mess hall after another boring day of cleaning and bitch work. The air is thick with tension since they haven’t been on assignment in weeks, not since Frankie’s near death injury. Frankie wasn’t thinking clearly when he was stabbed in the side, he hadn’t properly swept the room…preoccupied with his thoughts after hearing a gunshot close by and wondering if it was Santi or Benny injured. He doesn’t know when things started to shift for him but as the weeks went on he felt more than friendship for his comrades. It nearly got him killed. 

  Frankie’s never been that close to death and Santi has been distant since. The thought of losing him pushed feelings to the surface he’s never felt before. He didn’t know how to handle them, of course he loved his friends and would lay down his life for them but this was something else. He was never good at addressing his feelings and so he ran. He couldn’t physically go anywhere so into his mind he went. 

  It made everyone on edge, Frankie had a sadness in his eyes and Benny wanted to help him anyway he can but he pushed him away. They were all fracturing as though weeks prior they weren’t the closest they’ve ever been. 

  Will constantly snapped at his brother telling him to get his shit together, Tom snapped at all of them for being so caught up in anything besides their jobs. They were acting anything but the special ops soldiers that they were. Too many feelings were involved causing them to implode. 

  “Davis,Garcia,Morales,Millers…report to the briefing room nineteen hundred hours.” The sound of the lieutenant colonel causing a bush to fall over the room. He exits swiftly on his feet in his crisp army fatigues. 

  “Fuck.” Tom says not so quietly “I knew you guys were gonna fuck this up acting all weird.”

  “Fuck you.” Frankie spits back at Tom as he stands with his tray to leave the hall. Santi and Benny can’t hide the grin spreading across their faces. It’s the most he’s said in weeks and they’ll cling to that small gesture if it’s all they can get. 

  Benny looks up at Will and sees the heartbreak in his eyes, he knows that being in delta is everything to him, he wishes he could take it as seriously as his brother does. He hopes things haven’t been ruined for all of them and he vows to try harder for him if they can get a second chance. He mouths a silent “I’m sorry.” To his brother which he returns with a smile and for the first time in weeks Ben feels like he can breathe a little. 

  They’re all silent as they make their way to the briefing room, the unanswered question looming among them. A million thoughts swimming in their head about their future. Would they be disciplined?demoted?discharged? None of it feels right to think about.

  Of course they arrive 15 minutes early, all of them too nervous to wait any longer. As they approach the room a soft voice is heard through the door followed by laughter from the colonel. He’s laughing? They didn’t think the man was capable of anything but surly disposition. They exchange confused glances amongst each other as Tom opens the door first. 

  You’re leaning against the desk with your arms folded across your chest, the crinkle in your eyes and the small dimple in your cheeks is the least distracting thing about you as you laugh at something the colonel said. The standard issue army shirt and pants do nothing to hide your figure and it takes Frankie a moment to realize Tom is the only one seated at the desks. 

  You turn to face them as the four men are left gaping in the doorway like fools. 

  “Have a seat.” The colonel pulls them from their thoughts as you clear your throat and stand at attention in the front of the room. The smile has dropped from your face as you level them with your intense gaze. Intentionally making eye contact with each of them as they move to sit down. 

  Ben awkwardly crashes into Santi causing the desk to scratch against the floor and he hopes the floor would swallow him whole at this moment. 

   They’re the picture of imperfection and the farthest thing from highly trained soldiers, looking at the moment more like highschool teenagers. You drop your head to crack a smile but Will catches the way you clear your throat to disguise the laughter. 

  “Gentleman, this is your new combat medic, I wanted you all to meet and become acquainted before your new assignment next week.” The colonel says your name and Santi is repeating it in his head as many times as necessary so as not to forget, he wasn’t always good with names but he didn’t want to forget yours. 

  Frankie’s mind drifts elsewhere as relief floods him knowing they wouldn’t be disciplined for whatever he thought the military knew about his their situation. He feels a little bad that the previous medic had been discharged but it was her job to try and save their lives in the event something happened. He thought that day may have been his last as he watched her shakily stitch him up and eventually Will moved her out of the way and finished opting for his horrible stitch job and steady hands to hers. 

  “You can talk in here but be back to your quarters before curfew,understood.”

  A resounding yes sir from the group and he’s exiting the room but not before he smiles at you.

  Santi notices and thinks how wildly inappropriate it may have been or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, but he can’t necessarily blame the colonel for shameless flirting. There was a draw about you that he couldn’t shake. 

  “I’m Sant-

  “Im Fran-

  They begin introductions at once and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at their eagerness. Santi glares at his friend and Frankie raises his hand in mock surrender. 

  “I’m Santiago Garcia but you can call me pope.”

  “I’m Will and that’s my brother Benny.”

  “I’m Fraancisco Morales but you can call me Frankie.” He blushes slightly and you’re unsure why he would be embarrassed by his name. 

  As if on cue Benny clears his throat “You can call him Fish actually.” Frankie groans and raises his hand to shield his face from you. 

  “I’ll kill you” he mouths to Benny and any nerves you had for this introduction and joining this tight knit group are slowly dissipating. 

  You don’t have the heart to tell them the colonel has already told you as much as he could about each of them and of course that included their names. You knew as much about each of them as a small file could tell you except for the fact that they were distractingly handsome and beautiful.

It’s almost unreal that they all ended up together as if they were some inappropriate military calendar that you could buy at the cheap corner store. Even Tom who has yet to introduce himself had some appeal. 

  “So what are your qualifications?”

  Maybe not 

  “You must be Tom.” He gapes at you unsure of how you knew his name, before he can open his mouth for a reply you raise your hand at him. 

  You walk the short distance to the desk he’s seated at as you place your hands on the front coming almost eye level with him. 

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t qualified and I certainly don’t need to list my years of experience or accolades to you. The colonel isn’t going to send me home because for some reason you might not like me or deem me to be unfit.”

  It’s embarrassing and Frankie is grateful to whatever god above that your attention is honed in on Tom as he adjusts the growing bulge in his pants at your unwillingness to back down from a challenge. 

  “I’m only going to say this once, when you’re bleeding out from a stab wound or a gunshot, I’m the one you want by your side.” You lean away from the desk as Tom stands to tower over you. You still don’t shy away as he comes toe to toe with you. You could hear a pin drop as they all hold their breath awaiting his response.

  “Honey listen, I’m only going to say this once. I’m the only one in this group that gives orders.” Tom smirks at the rage filling your eyes,hoping he can back you down and thinking he’s successful as you move to  leave the room. You stop just short of the door as you turn on your heels. 

  “If you call me honey again it will be the last time you speak.” He laughs and some of the tension leaves the room as they all let out a breath. 

  “Sure thing honey bee but I don’t know what you think you’re gonna do.” 

  You open the door to leave, throwing a mischievous grin over your shoulder. “Bees do sting you know.” 

  It’s quiet for a moment after you leave, despite Tom's gruff introduction it seems you fit right in. 

  “We need some rules.” Tom says first and Will nods in agreement. 

  “Do not fuck her.” 

  “Jesus Tom who said anything about that.” Frankie should be ashamed for coming back at him so harshly, seeing as though he was having some trouble concealing that he wanted to do just that earlier.

  “That was mostly directed at Pope, but after your little injury I figured we needed to lay down some ground rules.”

  Santi hangs his head, he can’t protest not with the way his reputation was and the fact that he may have inadvertently played a role in Frankie being injured. 

  “He’s right,we need to tighten up and get our shit  together. We can’t have this getting complicated with our lives on the line and I don’t want to lose another medic.” Will always the voice of reason. 

  “Okay but what about after?” Benny is half joking,half serious. Will slaps the back of his head as Frankie tries to conceal his laughter. 

  “No…I don’t care if it’s years down the line, we don’t need to complicate this anymore or ruin any friendships.” It’s the honesty in Santis voice that has Benny and Frankie sure that this is the way it has to be. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Prev/Next

@luciferiorbxtch @casa-boiardi @alwaysdjarin @meveispunk @littlenosoul @evyiione

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xlvi // The Silence

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

Renee follows the departure out the corner of his eye, sees the figure melt into the darkness of the hallway. He hears the door to Davin’s room go, the low click of the lock. An audible draft seeps in from where the window used to be, the occasional whisper through invisible gaps between the plywood panel and the frame, or the crinkling of the plastic sheet.

Tremors muddy the movement of his hands, but he still manages to painstakingly pull the shirt over his head, using the fabric to wipe the brunt of the blood off the lower half of his face. The taste of it is nauseating, that metallic sweetness. A faint pulsing at the bridge of his nose is a millisecond out of sync from the one in his elbow. Different distances from the heart.

Mouth-breathing, goosebumps rising over his naked torso as the chill air of the kitchen washes over him. Dried sweat itching along his hairline. His face feels warm, vision still sailing, and the house is eerily quiet in the aftermath of what just happened. The sort of silence that makes the sound of his recovering, ragged breathing carry. It’s out of place. Doesn’t belong. 

Pushing himself up with his good arm, Renee staggers, and immediately has to catch himself on the edge of the table when his rattled sense of balance nearly makes him trip over his own feet. He stumbles through the warm light of the kitchen, shouldering open the bathroom door. The lights make him squint, and even that small movement sends a lingering jab through the center of his face. His reflection in the mirror looks foreign, and he can only focus on one element at a time, never manages to get the full picture. The blood still leaking out of either nostril, sliding over his upper lip, dripping. The fucking taste. The goddamn fucking taste.

Setting the cartilage straight reinvigorates the bleeding, and whenever he tries to block the flow with pressure, it hurts bad enough for him to see stars. Ten or so minutes are spent frozen, eyes fixed on the red that steadily creeps down the drain, until the flow begins to ebb out. Then he washes his face with cold water, carefully rubs dried flakes from his skin.

With the water still running, Renee props an elbow on the edge of the sink, resting his forehead against his arm. The shout aching to burst out of his lungs is halted by the pain in his throat. All that escapes is a groan, equally as strange as his appearance. It doesn’t belong. This isn’t him.

Five, six months of his life spent preparing to chase a fever dream that crumbled the moment reality started to set in, lured along by a guy who couldn’t care less if Renee threw himself off a cliff. And there’s rage in all that, of course there is, but beneath it - something worse. A bottleneck, a smothering pressure that feels like it’s coming from all sides at once. Makes his stomach churn.

Dread.

Uncertain steps trace back to his bedroom. Sinking down next to the bed, he leans his back against the frame, hand automatically clutching at the ache in his arm, thumb driving into his bicep. He leans his head back, exposing his neck, and hopes, at some level, that the blade of the guillotine would just hurry up and drop already. It’s been teasing for far too long.

Renee’s eyes close. Small dull sounds of the foundation settling, mingled with the ringing in his ears, the feeling that his body is rolling, wavering. There’s a kaleidoscope in the dark, faint across his eyelids. Churning thoughts that hardly go anywhere, but simultaneously span his entire lifetime.

A clarity of sorts, but it hurts to consider. Physically hurts – it accentuates the pain in his throat for some reason, makes his head reel. Makes him sweat and shiver at the same time.

Why is the house so quiet?

It is mourning in advance.

He opens his eyes to the sight of a blank ceiling. The air leaves his chest slowly through gritted teeth, a grimace that has yet to veer into real resolution – and probably never will.

But he still gets up.

💵

00:02

Leaving his phone to charge on a side table, Renee filters rather methodically through the trash in his room, laying everything he might consider keeping on the bed. It predictably ends up taking hours. He tries to snort a line just to keep his energy up, but it turns out to be impossible with a busted nose. So he rubs it on his gums instead, which is gross as hell, the sort of taste you have to spend a few minutes washing down with lemon-flavored tonic water, but it works, so he repeats that ritual continuously, every time he starts to come down.

Once he’s done, it looks like an explosion went off in his room. All drawers out, all closets open, every box opened. Clean and dirty clothes lazily discarded on the floor, piles of knickknacks, cans, and half-full bottles of alcohol, used dishes, empty paper bags. He’s pretty sure he has managed to get this far without making too much noise. Standing back with a sigh, his eyes loosely scan the mess, before he finally moves to the clutter on the bed. A clutter that is four times the size of his backpack.

Some sacrifices have to be made.

Renee winces at that thought.

The stash is the first thing he dumps in. A fresh set of clothes, an empty water bottle, a power bank. Then his laptop – before he immediately changes his mind. Evidence. He fishes it back out, and goes scavenging throughout the house, steps as quiet as he can make them.

Passing Davin’s room, he stops in his tracks and carefully pushes the handle down, slowly enough that the individual clicks of the spring can be heard. It’s locked – he knew it was locked, he heard it. He’s not entirely sure why he even tried.

The drill, he finds upstairs on the floor next to one of the spotlights, the bit still sporting trace amounts of blood in its threads. Pulling the trigger produces a lazy whir, weak and low no matter how hard he clutches it.

The charger for the battery is nowhere to be seen. Half an hour, forty-five minutes of rifling through bags and black containers of equipment, cables and various small electronic devices, soldering wire and plugs, most of it is just Davin’s gear. When Renee finally spots his dad’s old tool case behind a stack of cardboard boxes, he thinks the search is done. But the tool case, too, leaves him empty handed, and then he has to curb the impulse to kick its contents across the floor.

Sneering at the room, pacing as well as he can muster without triggering a creak of the floorboards. His hands are shaking again.

Deep breath.

💵

03:15.

A thin, wet layer of greyish white covers the patio by now, squished so thoroughly under his shoes, he leaves a series of dark prints in his wake. Snowfall across the pitch black sky gives the impression that the air is cushioned. All the sounds are blunt, apart from the melt-off that drips from the gutters.

The light in the small shed on the side of the house flickers briefly to reveal a neatly organized space, in which the dust has been left to collect for, as far as Renee is aware, a year and a half, at the very least. The mower parked in the back, surrounded by steel shelves of lawncare and pesticides, a few cans of gasoline, gardening tools, tubs of grainy fertilizer, plastic bags of different types of soil. Despite his mother’s occasional interest in flowers, Renee knows most of this stuff has only ever been touched by the gardeners. He clanks around different cabinets until he finally, finally finds the drill charger, stocked up behind boxes of other handheld power tools. Plugging it into a wall outlet, he clicks the battery in. For a few seconds, he stands back, locking eyes with the small blinking light, silently daring it to cause another problem. Much to his surprise, it doesn’t.

Rubbing his forehead with his knuckles, he fishes out a cigarette, igniting it under the hum of the fluorescent lights. The smoke mixes with the vapor of his breath, hanging still in the air just underneath the low ceiling. Deep breath. He pulls out his phone.

Can we talk?

yes

The cigarette trembles slightly between his fingers. Deep breath. Deep breath.

you dontt owe me anything laz

Wincing, Renee nestles the knuckle of his free hand between his front teeth, biting down until it feels like the skin breaks. Stops himself, pulls his hand away again, flexing his fingers. A minute passes, then another. No reply comes to alleviate the dark feeling that’s slowly settling in his gut. Lazarus keeps his phone open through the night, he’s never been slow to respond. Five minutes, and the cigarette is burned to the filter. Is Renee reading too much into the silence? Definitely.

What other choice does he have?

He lights another smoke.

💵

04:11.

Reason tells him to eat something for the sake of energy, but as night turns to early morning, Renee finds himself unable to concentrate enough to do anything about it. There are a dozen holes in the hard drive, a folding knife in his pocket, and his backpack is ready to go. Exhaustion wears him down like a heavy weight, and yet he still can’t settle. He paces the open kitchen silently, finds himself compulsively whispering nonsense. Replays of past conversations that should’ve gone differently, or the ones he’s about to have. All devolve into subdued hissing eventually, and he has to force himself to stop, to inhale once or twice through gritted teeth, until something new invariably pops into his head, and the cycle repeats itself.

The nonstop agitation tires him out further. Renee retreats into his room, spends god knows how long sitting on the bed with his back to the wall, hands filtering through his hair, breathing heavily through the quiet. Conrad is probably sedated, he realizes. Bad trips don’t usually go unnoticed, and yet all night, Renee hasn’t heard a peep.

And that nausea again, like a hand wrapped around his stomach, mounting the pressure.

His phone dings as he’s sitting there. Unmoving, but his back tenses up. Fatigue is what finally allows him to pick it up – he finds himself struggling to care if the hole he’s in is about to sink further.

My place. Call me before you take off, bc I have some errands to run. That ok?

Renee swallows. The small indent in the side of his phone is rough against the notches of his fingerprint. Taking a deep breath, he types a proper response, only to immediately delete it. Another two, three minutes, he just stares silently at the screen, until he manages to hit send on mere acknowledgement.

yea

He lets the phone dump back on the mattress, folds his arms over his knees. Stares into the blackness of his room, eyes unfocused. Breathing hurts. It’s going to hurt for a while.

Hours, maybe, of waiting in the distance. He crashes eventually, and he’s too lazy to get off the bed and mitigate it. Heaviness drags at his limbs, the way his posture sags, body leaning into sheer exhaustion. Along comes a more pronounced ache in his body, the final release of the anesthetic qualities of cocaine. His mood doesn’t drop, for some reason – Renee reckons it simply can’t. Once or twice, he dozes off, still sitting there folded over, and only returns when he has to suddenly catch himself from not falling sideways on the bed.

And then, eventually – a sign of life.

A faint, indiscernible sound behind the wall his back is pressed against. Barely noticeable, but present enough that Renee lifts his head. The following quiet lasts long enough that he becomes sure he hallucinated it, until he hears a door go, and casual footsteps pass by in the hallway.

He checks his phone.

06:45, exactly.

Something in his throat feels as though it has swollen over the course of the night; there’s an obstruction as he tries to swallow. Slowly, he untangles himself from his position. The fatigue doesn’t melt away, exactly, but he finds a new rush of adrenaline spike. He picks up the backpack, checks his pockets. Puts on his shoes, his jacket.

There’s a moment where Renee locks in place in the middle of the chaos he has created in his room, staring at nothing. Shoulder poised to carry the weight of his belongings as his mind drifts into empty air. He doesn’t recognize it as doubt until he finds himself reassuring himself, to a debatable reward, that this is necessary.

Once he finally shakes out of it, he casts one final glance around the room, forcing emptiness. He opens the door silently, steps slow as he traces down the hallway.

The kettle is rising to its peak as he rounds the corner to the kitchen; a cabinet closes. Davin’s hair is down, one half trailing down his back as the other obscures his face. He doesn’t look up, even as Renee makes an effort to make his movements audible over the noise. Just calmly measures out two teaspoons of instant coffee,

Renee stops a few feet from the fridge, clearing his throat.

Davin still doesn’t look up. As the kettle beeps, he takes it, casually pouring into his mug. The steam swirls in front of his face. “Rought night, hm?” he mutters. “You’re not very subtle.”

Renee feels his upper lip curl. He shifts his grip on his backpack, and it’s only then that Davin looks at him.

Immediately, he pauses, any hint of casual humor gone from his face as his eyes trail from Renee’s face to the backpack, back again. His expression doesn’t darken, exactly, but it does go blank, and he sets the kettle down on the counter.

Renee takes a deep breath through his nose, pursing his lips. “I—.” He blinks, biting down the urge to cough as his voice gives out. He hadn’t expected speaking to become more painful than it was in the immediate aftermath of the hit. Grimacing, his eyes flicker to the floor as he collects himself. Another deep breath, and an attempt to swallow back the obtrusion in his throat without fully succeeding. Gritting his teeth, he forces it out, raspy and uneven. “I quit.”

Davin keeps looking at him for a long time with that same serious expression, before his gaze trails to the fridge, then down to the kettle. Dark hair fall down from behind his shoulder, hiding his expression entirely.

“Keep the rest of my half,” Renee croaks out. “I don’t give a fuck, I just never want to see you again.”

There’s not much of a reaction, but Renee is tense as he watches Davin’s thumb absentmindedly running down the handle of his coffee cup. Realistically, the silence doesn’t last more than ten seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

Finally, Davin’s hand wraps around the mug, balanced between his fingers. “I could live with that,” he mutters. As he takes a sip, he shoots Renee a sideways glance, one brow raised. “It was worth a shot, mh?”

The urge to scream, or at the very least throw something substantial. It turns into a full sneer. Renee clutches the strap of his backpack hard, gesturing around the room with his free hand. “Just burn it down,” he growls.

Davin nods.

Letting out a huff, Renee turns on his heel, heading for the entrance, movements stiff as he curbs the impulse to destroy anything within arm’s reach.

“Renee.”

But Renee has no intention of listening to whatever bullshit the man has to say for his parting words. He rips open the front door, lets it rebound behind him as he rushes past the threshold, met by a subsequent gust of cold air. The dim light of the dawn illuminates sparse snow drifting across the front lawn he bee-lines across. Heavy breathing marked by the prick of snowflakes in his throat, strangely welcome as a distraction for turmoil. He opens and shuts the door of the Clio with a similar careless aggression, ignoring the creaking of a spring in the front wheel as he ducks in, tossing the backpack to the passenger seat.

The frozen engine struggles to revive itself at the turn of the key, but the wipers easily brush off the thin layer of white covering the windshield. Snow is illuminated in the cones of the headlights, creating the illusion that it falls much heavier than it actually does.

Renee hits the side of the steering wheel once, before he yanks the car into first gear, grimacing at the jolt of pain in his arm. His foot eases on the clutch, and the car begins to move.

He doesn’t think about Conrad.

He doesn’t think.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[heavyhitterheaux]

The triples are in terrible twos and won’t do anything fl or jack ask them too

“Ivy, pick up your toys and put them away. It’s almost time for dinner.” You said while coming into their playroom. Autumn and Axel had already started putting theirs away so she was the only one left.

“No, I don’t want to.” She said in response to you and you looked at her in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” You asked not believing what she had just said.

“I’m not done playing.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were done playing, mommy asked you to put your toys away. You can take them back out after dinner.”

“NO!”

“IVY MAY! WHAT DID I SAY?!”

“I SAID NO!”

“THAT’S IT! TIME OUT! GO IN THE CORNER, NOW. BUT FIRST PICK UP YOUR TOYS LIKE I ASKED YOU TO!”

Ivy then let out a huff before finally following directions to pick up her toys and then proceeded to go in the corner, but stomped her little feet the entire way over there. 

Axel and Autumn had finished and you told them to go downstairs where Jack was in the kitchen.

She was now silently crying as she stood in the corner staring at the wall and you then heard Jack’s footsteps behind you. 

“Baby, where’s Ivy? Oh….” He said when he finally saw her and you had your arms crossed.

“What did you do this time, bubs?” He asked as he made his way over to her.

“Mommy is being a meanie. She won’t let me play with my toys.” Ivy said through her tears as Jack tried to wipe them away. 

“Mommy isn’t being mean. She probably just told you that so you could come and eat dinner. I’m sure she would have let you play with them after. Axel and Autumn are already downstairs waiting for you. How much time did mommy give you?”

She simply shrugged as Jack then turned towards you to ask you.

“How much time does she have to do in Harlow baby jail?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Can we make it five?” Jack asked and you then looked at him as if he was crazy.

“No, because she needs to learn how to listen to directions the first time.”

“But babe….”

“Jackman, keep talking and I’ll put you in Harlow baby jail next. And your sentence will be longer than hers.”

Jack then held up his hands in defense and didn’t utter another word. 

When the three of you made your way downstairs, you put Ivy in her chair and placed their plates in front of them.

“Mommy, I don’t like string beans.” Autumn quietly said before looking over at you.

“Since when? You liked them last week when mommy gave them to you. Don’t you remember you telling me you ate them when you called me on facetime?” Jack said while looking at her.

“I don’t want them.”

“Autumn, baby, you have to eat your vegetables.”Jack said, trying to be patient with her, but truth be told ever since they all turned two, they had been running both of you up the wall.

Yes, terrible twos are a real thing. 

“No.”

“Just eat a few, okay? You don’t have to eat all of them.”

“Daddy, I said no. I don’t want them.”

This made Jack do a double take and you turned around from the stove as you were fixing your plate to look at her.

“Autumn Danielle, what did you just say to me?” Jack calmly asked her and you knew that he was at his wits end and that his patience had gone out the window.

She then began to cry and promptly threw her sippy cup on the floor sending apple juice flying everywhere as her response. 

“AUTUMN!” You exclaimed while trying to calm yourself before doing anything else in response to her. 

Jack could tell that you were about to lose it and walked over to you before he went to Autumn who was still screaming her head off and had now pushed her plate of food on the floor.

He looked to see that you had tears in your eyes and you were about ten seconds away from letting them fall.

“Baby, go lay down for a minute. I got it.” He said while leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“But… I….”

“I know. Just relax for me for a minute. I know that they’ve been really acting out these last few weeks and it didn’t help that I wasn’t here either.”

“I feel like I’m doing such a terrible job being their mother. I never want to yell at them, but today really took the cake. First Axel not wanting to take his bath, Ivy not picking up her toys and now this with Autumn.”

“Don’t you ever think that for a second because you’re doing an amazing job. Just go take a bath and relax. Don’t worry about anything and I’ll be up there later. No need to cry. I know you’re frustrated but we got this and you know that we’re in this together. No one said that this would be easy.”

You nodded in response as the tears were now falling and Jack pulled you into a hug and kissed your temple. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, mamas.”

Jack had just finished reading a bedtime story to the triplets when Ivy suddenly had a question.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“Did we make mommy cry?” She quietly asked and he noticed that all three of them were starting to look guilty. 

“Me and mommy only want the best for you three so we do tend to get upset when you tell us no. All we want to do is help you.”

“I didn’t mean to make her sad.” Autumn said and it looked like she was about to cry again.

“Me either.” Axel said while climbing into Jack’s lap.

“Well, what you can do is listen to what we tell you and do it the first time we ask. That’s all we want.”

“We say sorry to her?”

“You three can do it when she wakes up. Let mommy sleep.”

[atomicladytimetravel]

If It’s Wrong, I Don’t Want to be Right Part 1 - Brat

Summary: After wandering alone for days, you’re taken into Jackson by Tommy and Joel. You butt heads with Joel at first - he’s mean and you’re a brat - but things get spicy later.

A little mean!Joel, female reader, dirty talk but no sex in this part. 20+ year age gap (reader is in her 30s, Joel is in his 50s). I’m gonna say MDNI because this will get explicit later on. 18+ ONLY.

I rewrote the previous story I posted. I like this version better and I’m going to do a series with it. I’m not sure of the word count, I wrote this on my phone.

I wonder where the fuck I am.

You’d been walking for days past dilapidated strip malls and through ghost towns with no names. You searched for any signs of life, but had found none. You had seen abandoned campsites and communities and you searched them, hoping to find food that had been left behind, but to no avail. You ran out of food and water yourself two days ago and you were getting desperate.

You were the lone survivor of a clicker attack that had wiped out the small group you had been traveling with. The gun holstered at your hip was useless, as you’d used all the bullets putting down clickers, and then your friends. You were a skilled fighter, but unfortunately, your friends had not been. Your father had been ex-military and, though you were only ten when the outbreak began, he taught you everything he could to protect yourself.

As the sun began to set, you started looking for a place to bunker down for the night. Traveling alone in the daytime was dangerous enough, especially for a woman. You considered herself lucky that you hadn’t run into anyone else so far.

You settled for a small house that looked relatively intact. You cautiously opened the front door and peered inside, scanning the front room for any danger. Once you were satisfied that the room was clear, you went inside and quietly checked the kitchen and dining room. You scanned the cabinets for food, but came up empty handed. You were getting ready to check the other rooms when a clicker emerged from the last door down the hallway. Then, a second appeared next to it. Your plan was to leave as quietly as possible, but when you took your first step back, your foot crunched on broken glass.

Shit.

The clickers whipped around at the sound and you took off running. The only thing you had to defend herself was the knife given to you by your father years ago. You unsheathed it while you ran. You got lucky and sunk the knife into the head of the first clicker before it could attack. You yanked it out and threw it at the second one, the blade sinking right into its skull. If the clicker had a target on its head, you would’ve hit the bullseye. You pulled the knife from the second clicker and stood with your chest heaving. You were dizzy, weak from a lack of sustenance. You turned and saw two men on horses watching you.

“Nice throw,” one of them said.

“Thanks,” you panted before promptly passing out.

When you awoke, you were lying on a cot in a makeshift infirmary. You sat up and looked around, catching the attention of a woman on the other side of the room.

“You’re awake!” the woman smiled. She poured some water from a pitcher and brought it to you.

“Oh my god, thank you,” you said, taking the glass from her. You drank the entire thing in seconds.

“Where am I?” you asked once the glass was empty.

“You’re in Jackson, Wyoming. A couple of our patrolmen brought you in after you passed out,” she replied. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Tommy will want to know you’re awake.”

She left the room, returning a few minutes later with a man and another woman.

“Hi, I’m Tommy Miller. This is my wife Maria,” he introduced them. They both smiled warmly. You gave them your name.

“How are you feeling?” Maria asked.

“Weak, but okay,” you responded.

“That was some impressive knife work out there,” Tommy complimented. “What else can you do?”

You shrugged.

“Shoot, hand to hand combat - my dad was ex-military.”

“We’ll have to see what you’ve got once you have your strength back. We could use a good fighter for patrol,” Tommy said.

“You want me to stay?” you asked.

“Only if you want to.”

You only had to consider it for a moment. You had nowhere else to go and no plans.

“That’s very generous and I would love to. Thank you.”

Life in Jackson was infinitely better than the life outside you’d become accustomed to. There was a steady supply of food and water and you had a job - Tommy put you on the patrol rotation as soon as he found out how good of a fighter you were. You made fast friends with a girl named Holly you’d met while volunteering in the community garden.

You’d made several friends, actually. You were the kind of person who was nice until given a reason not to be. If anyone was going to give you a reason not to be, it was Tommy’s older brother Joel. He was standoffish and more than a little rude. Most people in Jackson were intimidated by him, but you weren’t. He got under your skin from time to time, sure, but you could most definitely handle him if you needed to.

Unfortunately, he was as attractive as he was rude. He was ruggedly handsome with salt and pepper hair and deep brown eyes. He had a good twenty years on you, at least, but that didn’t stop the dirty thoughts from crossing your mind.

Admittedly, it was you who started the first argument between yourself and Joel. He had it coming, though. You’d literally just met the man and he had been so rude.

He was sitting alone at the bar in the Tipsy Bison. Tommy took you to meet him once you’d gotten out of the infirmary, considering Joel was the man with him the day they took you in. You’d said hello and smiled at him, but all you got in return was an uninterested glance.

“I said hello,” you asserted.

“Hello,” he scowled, rolling his eyes.

“Joel, don’t be rude,” Tommy sighed.

“Don’t worry about it Tommy,” you said, glaring at Joel. “If this is how he is, I don’t want to talk to him anyway.”

“I’m truly disappointed,” Joel deadpanned as you walked away.

“You should be!” you countered over your shoulder.

The second time was his fault. You were minding your business in the garden when he approached.

“Well, well, if it isn’t The Brat,” he taunted. You wrinkled your nose at him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t act like one,” he shrugged. You sighed and put down your gardening shears.

“Do you need something, Miller?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“Listen, just tell me what you want. I’m not in the mood for your bull shit,” you huffed. He raised an eyebrow. Had he finally met his match?

“Tomatoes,” he grumbled.

“Fine,” you nodded. You gathered some tomatoes in a basket and handed them to him without looking at him

“What kind of customer service is this?” he quipped.

“The kind you get when you get on my fucking nerves,” you sassed. “If that’s it, kindly get the fuck out of here.”

His eyebrows furrowed angrily.

“Don’t tell me what to do, brat,” he argued.

“Oh my god,” you said exasperatedly. “Miller, I have better things to do than argue with you. Do you need something else or are we done here?”

He scowled at you and left without a reply. You were starting to hate him, but you hated yourself even more for thinking about him whenever your hand was between your legs.

Every other interaction with Joel went about the same - he was rude and you were combative. He liked to call you brat and that both infuriated you and turned you on.

Everything came to a head one day after a few months of the back and forth. It was late afternoon, about an hour before you were supposed to report for patrol. You were sitting on your porch reading your favorite book. Tommy was approaching in the distance, but you were so engrossed in the story that you didn’t see him. You also didn’t hear when he called your name the first time. When he called out a little louder, you jumped and looked over at him.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“No worries,” you laughed. “What’s up Tommy?”

“You’re on patrol with Simpson tonight, right?” he asked. You sighed. If anyone here was as annoying as Joel, it was Paul Simpson. He was obnoxious and didn’t know when to stop talking.

“Supposed to be, unfortunately.”

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that he broke his hand and won’t be able to help tonight,” he said with a grin. Tommy wasn’t Simpson’s biggest fan either.

“Great! So what’s the bad news?”

“Joel is his replacement.”

“Ugh, Tommy why?” you whined.

“Nobody else could do it,” he shrugged. “Listen, I need to go meet Maria. Be a doll and tell me for him, will ya?”

He turned without waiting for an answer. He didn’t want to be the one to tell his brother he had to work on his night off with his least favorite person.

“Hey! He’s your brother!” you called after him.

“Sorry!” he called back over his shoulder.

“This should be fun,” you grumbled to yourself as you marked your place in your book.

You found Joel in the Tipsy Bison, sitting alone at the bar. You sat next to him on one of the barstools and gave him a sarcastic smile when he looked at you.

“What do you want, brat?” he asked gruffly. You rolled your eyes at the name.

“Simpson’s off duty tonight. He broke his hand,” you answered.

“What’s that got to do with me?” he snapped.

“Tommy says you’re his replacement.”

“And why can’t you be his replacement?” he asked, annoyed.

“You’re gonna love this,” you laughed dryly. “I’m already on duty.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he hissed, his fist slamming on the bar. Several people flinched, but you did not. You glared at him.

“Listen Miller, I know everyone else here is intimidated by you, but you don’t fucking scare me. I don’t know if you just need to get laid or what, but I’m tired of your fucking attitude. You,” you poked your finger into his arm, “are going to learn to talk to me with some god damn respect.”

You pushed the barstool away from the bar and headed for the door. Joel downed the rest of his drink and followed you. Everyone in the bar watched the two of you curiously as you exited.

“I don’t owe you any fucking respect,” Joel spat. “I don’t even know you.”

“Go fuck yourself Miller,” you said without turning around. “And adjust your attitude before patrol.”

You entered your house and slammed the door. Joel barged in behind you and slammed it again.

“Excuse me, this is my - “

He cut you off with a hand to your throat, pushing you against the wall. The action made desire pool in your belly.

“Who do you think you are talking to me like that?” he growled. You smirked at him.

“Are you trying to scare me? I already told you, I’m not afraid of you.”

“Yeah? Even with my hand wrapped around your pretty little throat?” he asked, his face inches from yours.

“My pretty little throat, huh? Sounds less like you want to hurt me and more like you want to fuck me,” you teased. You looked up at him seductively. “What if I told you I’d let you?”

“God damn it,” he mumbled before his lips crashed against yours. He moved his hand from your throat and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your body to his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, desperate, like this was something you’d both wanted for a while.

“I see you walking around here in these little cutoff shorts,” he said, reaching down and squeezing your ass. “That ass just begging to be spanked like you deserve.”

“You think about me Joel?” you murmured sultrily. He was almost ashamed to admit how many times he’d jerked himself off thinking about you. Almost.

“Every time I touch my cock, sugar,” he smirked. The thought set your body on fire.

“I like to think about getting you all fired up so you’ll run that little brat mouth,” he said, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. “Spank you a little and then shove my cock down your throat.” You were practically melting at his words. “I bet you get off on being a brat, huh?”

“Maybe I do,” you responded cheekily. “Is that why you’re such a dick? Cause you get off on me being a brat?”

His hand was still on your ass and he gave it a sharp spank. You squealed and he chuckled.

“Maybe so.”

“You know if you want to fuck, you can just say so. I’ll be your brat whenever you want me to be,” you told him. You popped the top button on his flannel and moved your pointer finger in circles on his chest. “You can use me however you want.”

You undid a few more buttons as you talked and you pressed soft kisses to his chest.

“God damn, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned. He caught sight of the clock you kept on the wall and swore under his breath.

“We only got five minutes sugar. Gonna have to pick this up after patrol.”

“Damn,” you sighed. “Okay. It’s gonna look real weird with you coming out of my house after all this time though.”

“Just yell at me as I go out the door. Slam it. Make it look real convincing,” he said. He walked towards the door; before he opened it, he turned to you with a smirk.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you later.”

“I hope so,” you said, returning his smirk. He opened the door and you put on your best angry face.

“Get the fuck out Miller, and don’t ever barge into my house again!” you yelled.

“Fuck off!” he yelled back. “And don’t fucking be late!”

You slammed the door, a grin spreading across your face.

This will be fun.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Bad Day - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: No warnings that I know of, just a bunch of fluff with the briefest of mentions about other enjoyable activities with our boy

Word Count: 800

Prompt #5 : Intertwining fingers

a/n: Okay, so I've been working on something for a while, and this is not that something, but rather a small piece of a different something that I'm really trying to convince myself to share. But for now, here's a small piece of that thing that I want to share for @browneyes-issac. I'm so sorry you had a horrible day at work and my brain wouldn't stop until I wrote this in hopes that it might help, even just a little. This is also my first ever released Frankie fic, and also my first time writing f!reader, and also the first thing I've written and shared on Tumblr in literal YEARS, so go easy on me. And if you like it, tell me to post the other ones that may or may not be sitting in my folders.

Masterlist | Next Drabble

Your day has been nothing short of miserable. 

As if a broken water heater hadn’t been enough, the standstill traffic on your way to work and the blown tire just two blocks from the restaurant gave you pause. And then you’d been foolish enough to believe that maybe, at least, work would be tolerable for once. 

But it hadn’t been, and now you're alone in an empty restaurant with a room full of tables still yet to be cleaned. Your coworkers had been no help, piling onto your load with table after table, nevermind your lack of a break. And then they’d left, all citing important events that they needed to attend while you stood, glancing at your watch as it told you your shift should be ending in ten minutes. Keyword, should.

A flash of headlights from outside brightens the empty room, and with a sigh, you head toward the front door, unlocking the deadbolt as Frankie appears on the other side. He’d agreed to pick you up when you’d called him about your blown tire, and he was, of course, on time. 

You're willing yourself not to lose it entirely when you breathe in his familiar scent, but it only takes a second for his wide smile to fade into genuine concern. “What’s wrong?” 

Saying nothing, you turn and walk back into the dining room, gesturing to the tables still stacked high with dishes. “There’s more in the kitchen,” you sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of you, trying to hide your frustrated tears. 

Slowly, he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together and raises them to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ll help.”

A laugh escapes you as you finally glance up at him, “You can’t.” 

Frankie’s eyebrows raise quickly, “and why not?” 

“For starters, you don’t work here. And you wouldn’t get paid. And it’s my job. You probably shouldn’t even be in here like this and you really can’t go in the kitchen and…” 

His grip on your hand tightens, causing you to stop your rambling. Without missing a beat, he counters your concerns with a plan. “How about you wash and I collect the dishes and bring them back to you? Then I can wipe down all the tables and rearrange everything out here while you finish up.” 

“Let me help you, Querida,” he continues when he notices you biting your lip, eyes flickering over the piles of work, and you feel him kiss your hand once more. You have to admit that his plan makes a lot of sense, and it would probably allow the two of you to be out of here long before you would if you did everything on your own. 

“Okay,” you agree after a long breath.

Frankie looks pleased, almost excited, and kisses your forehead quickly before rushing off in the direction of the nearest table. He picks up a stack of dishes and follows as you lead him toward the kitchen. Once you’ve shown him where to set things, you head toward the sink to begin the cleaning process. 

He appears every minute or so as he clears the dining room, stopping in between each trip to kiss you. Sometimes on your forehead, sometimes your shoulder or your nose. Whatever part of you he can reasonably reach, and with each passing moment you feel the weight of the day become a little lighter. A smile here and there, a laugh when he kisses you in the crook of your neck before rushing back into the dining room once more.

Methodically, you scrub away at the dirty plates, working as quickly as you can. Frankie is gone for a while, probably cleaning the tables, and soon the pile dwindles down to nothing.

Strong arms wind around your waist as you rinse off the plate in your hands, a warm chest at your back, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Almost done?” 

You nod, pressing into him as you place the last dish on the rack. “Done.” You turn in his arms, and he doesn’t protest when your wet hands wind around his neck to bring him down for a proper kiss. It’s soft and warm, and you hum when you pull away to find Frankie smiling at you. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Anytime,” he returns, hugging you a bit tighter. “Now, are you ready to go home? Because I think I have the perfect remedy for your bad day.” 

His contagious smile finally transfers to your own face, “Is that so?”

Frankie nods eagerly, and you know the spark in his eyes well, so without another word you lace your fingers through his and tug him in the direction of the door. 

And later, when you’re laying in his arms, feeling sated and so very loved, your bad day is nothing more than a forgotten memory. 

Masterlist | Next Drabble

[cevansbrat0007]

A Man Starved

Summary: Ari lives for the taste of you on his tongue...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Smut, Manhandling, Oral Sex (fem rec), Light Rimming, References to Anal Sex (mentioned), CMNF, Ass Slapping, Pussy Slapping, Light Edging, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This fic is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Takes place directly after the events in Off the Market. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

You were working on borrowed time. Shaking your head, you reach for another plate as you take your time cleaning up after dinner. All that was left after you finished the dishes was wiping down the range. 

The floors looked good, which meant that you could probably get away without sweeping. You’d already convinced Ari to invest in the magic that was a Swiffer WetJet. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to do a quick touch-up.

Your eyes stray to the clock, noting the increasingly late hour. Ari could afford to be patient for a little while longer. If anything he was probably exhausted after the busy day you’d had, what with the shopping spree and the hour long drive back home to Bell’s Creek. 

He was probably half asleep by now. Meanwhile, you were secretly dreaming about the next time you’d be able to enjoy another one of those hand-dipped milkshakes like the one you’d had at lunch. Preferably without that damned Stella. 

Your lip curls into a snarl at the memory of your waitress. Having to stomach that heifer’s attempt to flirt with your man had left you feeling madder than a wet settin’ hen.

You yank the Swiffer out of the closet, jumping backwards as the broom clatters to the floor. Shit. Perhaps you were still a touch riled up. You’re just about to lean down to pick it up when you feel two large hands settle on your hips. 

“Yeah?” You huff out.

“I’ve been patient long enough.” Ari rasps. “Time for bed, sweet Bird.” Soft, warm lips skim along the curve of your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Let’s go.” 

“Ten more minutes and I’m all yours.” You assure him as your pulse kicks up, the familiar feeling of butterflies dancing in your belly.

“No.” That one word has your spine stiffening in rebellion. 

“Patience.” You remind him, shimmying out of his grasp while still clutching the Swiffer. “Some might even say it’s a virtue. I think I heard that in a movie or something. Can’t quite remember where, but I’d like to think it’s still a good rule of thumb.”

You continue to prattle on as you set down the mop to search for a new bottle of cleaning solution found under a nearby cabinet.  

“Already told you, baby.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “I’m all outta patience.” He reaches for you then, needing to touch you. Wanting to feel the softness of your submission as your body melts for him. 

“Ari…” You blow out an unsteady breath as your pussy spasms, your empty walls clenching around nothing. 

“You made me wait all day for a taste of you.” Your man purrs at the same time as he grabs the edges of his faded black t-shirt before tugging it over his head, revealing his brawny hair-covered chest. “You wouldn’t let me have you earlier. I admit I didn’t like it very much at the time. A man needs his fix, you know? Especially after watching you show off all those sweet curves during our trip today.” 

Frankly, even he’s surprised that he’s been able to last as long as he has. You have no idea just how close he was to snapping and simply taking what he felt was owed to him. 

Especially after he’d spent the entire afternoon fantasizing about splaying you out on his kitchen table and getting lost between your luscious thighs. He’d already gone too long without the taste of you on his tongue. 

And if Ari was being honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able last another minute without you – let alone ten of them. Something had to give. 

And that something was you. 

“Surely you can wait until I finish mopping, can’t you?” You whisper, scarcely recognizing the sound of your own voice as butterflies give way to raw need under the weight of your man’s heated gaze.

You’d never had anyone look at you the way he did. And even after these last couple of months together, you still weren’t quite used to it. 

“Afraid not.” Your Bounty Hunter is quick to shake his head “no”. And he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed of it either. “Time to feed me, Duchess.” His wolfish grin sends ripples of desire coursing through you, straight to your dripping core. “I’ve spent all day thinking about all the ways I plan to wreck that greedy little pussy.”

His intoxicating blue eyes dip to your waist as he growls low in his throat. You were wearing too many clothes for his liking, which meant your pink cotton panties and matching satin nightdress were about to be a thing of the past. 

“Y–you have?” You stammer as he begins to approach, his sinewy muscles bunching and moving as he bridges the distance between you. The next thing you know, he’s standing in front of you, his sinful lips hovering mere inches above yours. 

“I wasn’t joking earlier when I asked you to stay the night. I sleep best after I’ve spent the evening getting all tangled up in the sheets with my woman.” Ari leans in to nuzzle your nose with his, eliciting a quiet whimper from you. “Never had anyone as sweet as my stubborn little Bird.”

Your grip on the Swiffer goes slack as you allow it to fall to the floor, your hands going to rest on Ari’s thick biceps to keep yourself upright. Because at this point, the man’s ability to make your legs turn to jelly might as well be his goddamn superpower. 

“And I’ve never had anyone like you.” You murmur before rising on your toes to give him a swift, but meaningful kiss. “Never had my very own Beast of a man who makes me weak in the knees on what feels like a daily basis.” You’re rewarded for your honesty with another nuzzle, this one accompanied by a sharp hint of teeth, signaling that Ari was close to his breaking point. “And if you give me just two more minutes, I promise to show you just how much I appreciate – oooh!” 

Your words end in a scream when your Hunter bends down to throw you over his shoulder. Your world tilts on its axis yet again as he turns on his heel and strides off in the direction of the bedroom. “Put me down, damn you!” You screech as you pound fists pounding on his back.

Not hard enough to do any real damage, but just enough to be annoying.  

“I warned you, sweetness. I did.” Ari delivers a resounding slap to your upturned ass, loving your little whine of protest. “Told you I needed my fix. It’s just not right to let a man starve the way I have.” 

Of course he would paint himself as the victim in all of this. Nothing unusual there.

Thirty seconds later you find yourself flying through the air as he unceremoniously tosses you on the bed. You didn’t know this, but there’s a small part of him that takes special pleasure in watching you bounce on the padded surface.

After all, you’d brought this on yourself. And as such, he was certain there wasn’t a jury in the world who would convict him for all the dirty things he was about to do to your delectably curvy body. 

Ari’s head cocks to the side as he watches you sit up, your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your nightdress. A low hum of appreciation escapes when you reach up to readjust the silky garment, exposing even more of your cleavage.  

Oh yeah. Tonight was about to get downright filthy. 

“I suppose I brought that on myself. I should’ve known better than to…” You trail off, smoothing your hands along your sides before pulling yourself up on your knees. “Shame on me for treating you so insensitively.”

“I take it that was your version of an apology?” 

You nod sheepishly, a light blush warming your cheeks. And now it’s your turn to watch as a slow, devilish smirk spreads across your Hunter’s chiseled features.

Fuck. If your panties weren’t soaked before, they definitely were now.

“Well, sweetheart, as nice as that was…” Ari’s large hand moves to cup his impressive erection, giving himself a squeeze through his boxers. “I’m afraid I can’t accept.” He chuckles softly, not missing the way your eyes glaze over with lust as he continues to touch himself.

“Why not?” You rasp, your pink tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. “I promise to be more mindful.” You reach for him then, intending to drag his big body down onto the bed with you. “I hate the thought of you being made to suffer all day long the way you have.” You give him your best pout, bating your eyelashes at him as you do.

It earns you nothing.

“You wanna make it up to me, Bird?” His nostrils flare as he breathes deep, almost as if he can scent your arousal. “Then I think it’s time I finally got my taste, don’t you?” His smirk returns when you nod once more. 

Your eager hands fly to the hem of your gown, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the side before your man can so much as blink. You briefly hesitate before repeating the same action with your panties, all but ensuring they would survive this erotic encounter.

“Fucking beautiful.” Ari rasps, his voice coming out hoarse. “Every single fucking inch of you.” He motions for you to turn and face away from him. “But right now, I’m dying to see you on your hands and knees for me.”

“But I–”

“Hush.” Your Beast commands, effectively cutting you off. “If you want me to believe your apology is sincere then you’ll shut that sweet mouth and do as you’re fucking told.” While there’s no bite to his words, they still make you shiver nonetheless. 

Ari smacks your left flank as you scramble to do as you’re told. Goosebumps rise across your heated flesh as you give him your back, your bare bottom on full display.

“Good girl.” Comes his silky purr. “Push that ass up for me. Now spread your thighs a little more – yeah, that’s it. There’s that pretty fucking pussy you’ve been keeping from me.” You find yourself preening at his praise, your slick coating your inner thighs.    

“I…please touch me, Beast.” You whine, your body trembling with need. “Please.” You allow your head to droop when Ari finally joins you, the bed dipping beneath his delicious weight.

But your relief, however, is short-lived.

“Tonight I’m gonna give you as much of me as you can take.” He growls, his slightly calloused palms possessively rubbing and kneading the generous globes of your ass. “And I’m not gonna stop until I’ve had my fill…”

A tiny whimper escapes when Ari parts your cheeks, exposing your drenched pussy and puckered hole to his gaze. You jump when he uses one long, thick finger to part your slippery folds so that he can toy with your sensitive little clit. 

“Can’t say when that’s gonna be, baby.” He swirls the pad of his finger over the nub, making your hips arch as white hot pinpricks of pleasure dance along your spine. “Because as you know, I've worked up quite the appetite.”

“S’okay!” You cry as you attempt to bear down, wishing he would add another finger. Or at the very least allow you to ride his thigh or something. Last time you tried that you came so hard you’d–

Your thought stream is interrupted by the sudden feeling of something hot and wet taking the place of your man’s fingers. Although you try to pull away, Ari’s grip on your hips remains steady, making it clear that you weren’t going anywhere without his explicit permission.

Leaving you with no doubt that you'd also be sporting a fresh set of bruises before the night was over.

And you can’t help the sweet moan that gets stuck in your throat when he briefly pulls away long enough spit on your tight, virgin hole before brushing his finger along the rim. “Can’t wait to take you here too.” He snarls, tracing along the seam with his wicked tongue. “Gonna make you mine in every way that counts.”

“Ooh! Christ, Ari, I fuck–!”

You’d never had a man do that to you before. Anything involving your ass had always been off limits. Until now.

A fresh wave of arousal has you trying to rub your thighs together, hoping to obtain some kind of relief in spite of your torture. Your hand slaps down hard on the bed when Ari buries his face between your thighs once more.

He takes his time devouring you, savoring your essence with each frenzied stroke of his tongue. This man planned to enjoy every sob, every moan, every cry of pleasure he rang from your body before this night was over. 

In hopes that you would think twice before denying him again. For depriving him of all your sweetness. 

“So sweet.” Ari’s eager tongue continues to lap at your passion-swollen cunt, his eyes rolling backwards in carnal bliss. “Always so fucking sweet.” The compliment comes on the heels of a desperate growl. It’s peppered by several sharp smacks, each one harder than the next.

Tears spring to your eyes as he continues to drink you down, the filthy wet sounds of his sensual feast echoing throughout his bedroom. Your hands fist the covers as you try to crawl away, only to be dragged back into position seemingly without him so much as even breaking a sweat.

“Please!Please!Oh, fuck, right there!Please!” You chant over and over like a fevered prayer. “God, yes!” 

Your voice sounds hoarse, even to your own ears. But you don’t let that stop you. Because now that Ari had seen fit to whet your appetite, you were ready for more. 

A hell of a lot more. 

You feel the coil tighten in your belly as your orgasm approaches. Sensing that you’re close, Ari tightens his grip on your hips, granting himself better access to your weeping pussy. God, you were so close you could taste it.

But right as you’re about to topple over the edge, Ari suddenly pulls away. The fucking rat bastard!

“But why?” You whine, turning to look at him over your shoulder, pleased to see your slick coating his bearded chin. His unrepentant grin making you want to scream.

“Aww.” Ari coos rather mockingly, his eyes alight with mischief. “What happened to patience being a virtue and all that?”

“Oh, you can fuck right off!” You snarl, attempting to twist out of his grasp so that you can rough him up. 

He simply shakes his head as laughter bubbles up and out of his chest. And then he flips you onto your back, parting your thighs so that he can get himself another nice, long look at your still glistening cunt. 

“Maybe later. But first, I'm gonna need another taste.” He purrs, his hand delivering a wet slap to your throbbing core. “Now be a good girl and hold these pretty thighs open for me.”

END

Unofficial Tag List

@katymae12344

@daykrisr99

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@daykrisr99

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

[jamneuromain]

Shower

Steve Rogers x You (Reader)

Warning: Swearing

College AU, Friends to Lovers, Pure Fluff

Summary: You want, no, need to shower, while waiting for Steve, your best friend.

One peek out of the window, and you squint because of the blazing sun. You have never experienced a scorching summer before, but apparently this year someone or something definitely launched ten sun-beam amplifiers to melt down the entire city. You have lived in this damn city for about two dozen years, yet this seems to be the hottest day in your life, if not tomorrow.

Not seeing a living soul by that peek, you decide to turn on the fan and wait.

You are waiting for Steve Fucking Rogers, that little shit that promised to come and fetch some homemade bakery fifteen minutes ago (as per his mother, Sarah’s request and his personal guarantee). And you were supposed to jump in a quick shower ten minutes ago.

Your house, like any other house on this street, didn’t install an air conditioner, which means you have to open all windows to cool down in the summer.

How very convenient that heat waves are blasting into your house, especially today. You are feeling icky and sticky, and above all, grumpy. Mom’s not home, that’s why you can’t jump into the shower right this moment since Steve’s coming over any second now.

HE PROMISED TO COME FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO!!!

And you are still waiting.

Steve Rogers may be your best male friend. Hell, he and Bucky both. But you are sure that you will rip both their heads off if any one of them stands in the way between you and your shower.

God, you really need that shower.

You turn the fan to the highest setting, only to frustratingly find the air slightly cooler than before. Just slightly.

Droplets of sweat dampen your forehead, some gather by your neckline. You tie your hair up as much as possible to prevent more sweat trickling down your spine - which it already is and soaking your oversized T-shirt. You didn’t even bother with a pair of shorts (damn weather) and go with your panties. You know that sweat is accumulating between your thighs and shorts would only worsen the situation.

For Christ’s sake, Steve lives fucking next door, how long will it fucking take for him to crawl under the sun and get here? You grumble under your breath and head to the kitchen for a popsicle.

Your mom and you share the same kind of sweet tooth, so you easily find the popsicle stash she prepared for this summer from the fridge. As you pop it in your mouth and half-minded wipe your wet hand on the kitchen cloth, a series of loud and impatient knocks come from the front door.

“Coming!” You yell, groaning at the sweet and icy touch that left your tongue.

You rush to the door and open it. Standing there is none other than Steve Fucking Rogers, freshly showered (duh, you can tell, or why else is his hair smell like fresh shampoo), wearing a vest and a pair of shorts.

Jerk.

“Hey, I’m here for the ... uh, bakery.” Steve scratches the back of his head.

You roll your eyes at him: "Hi Steve, nice to meet you too.” Even so, you lean against the door frame to let him in. He might be a jerk, but he doesn’t have to wait outside as a punishment. Speaking of the devil himself may have come to New York and burned it with hellfire. ‘Cause that’s the temperature outside.

Steve let out a big smile, smacking a kiss on your forehead before going in: ”Thanks, you’re the best.”

You close the door behind him and gesture your hand towards the bakery. Your other hand is busy shoving the popsicle back into your mouth.

“I thought your mom was here.” He throws himself on the couch, enjoying most of the fan, “She not around?”

You hum and shake your head. The iced pieces make it hard to speak, so you point to the door briefly: “She Out. Why?”

“Nothin’.” He muttered. His eyes light up on seeing you with that popsicle.

“Why staring?” You pronounce the two words with some difficulty.

He blinks, and then: ”Can I have one?”

“Seriously?” You shoot a dirty glare at him, “lower section of the fridge.” You absolutely hate him that second because you have to pull the popsicle out of your mouth to speak, but then again, you almost finish yours, “get one yourself and take the bakery. Remember to close the door when you leave. I have to shower.”

With that, you leave him in the middle of the living room.

“That bastard showered before he came here” is the only thought hovering in your mind. Mostly because you didn’t get to shower waiting for him.

WAITING!

FOR TWENTY MINUTES!!!

To be fair, Steve Rogers isn’t all that bad. He just makes you crazy sometimes, and other times, you feel like he is the most heart-warming, caring and sweet MALE friend on the whole planet (sorry Bucky). You knew him since middle school, and after some time spent with him and Bucky, you become close friends. You three argue a handful of times, but they turned out to be proofs of your solid friendship. Being exceptionally good at basketball, he and Bucky were both admitted into New York University. As were you, with your grades and extra-curricular activities. You all returned home this summer vacation to cut yourselves some slack. And the bad news is, it’s nearly 100°F outside.

And you might or might not have a crush on him. Since the day you met Steve.

That doesn’t stop you from ripping his head off if he stands in your way again for the shower though.

Some part of you hopes that he could see you as a woman and know your feeling towards him, while you are also afraid of losing your best friends, possibly both of them if they know. And you suspect, since he sometimes makes you crazy, that he doesn’t harbour the same feeling as you.

Yeah, you’re fine with the situation now.

You totally let out a shriek when you realize someone is on the couch. You know that’s not your mom, because A. She won’t be back until seven, and B. She’s 5ft4.

Whoever is sitting on your couch is way over 6ft and bulky. What can you do other than shriek? You panicked. It’s hardly your fault. Not to mention you are wearing, sorry, merely carrying a towel to cover your body parts.

“Shi- I’m sorry.”

The figure stands up, waving his hands in the air apologetically.

You take a second to stuff some sense into your brain that it is Steve.

STEVE FUCKING ROGERS!

You think you roared, as your voice can hardly be called human anymore. “What the FUCK are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me.”

He purses his pink lips, glancing at you nervously: “I uhhh- I didn’t bring my keys. And Ma went out with her friends. Can I-” stay here for a bit until Ma comes back and fetch him home?

Great. You roll your eyes, making sure he sees the white in your eyes, and grab a bottle of bubbly water from the fridge, sounding murderous, “you are lucky that I didn’t bring a baseball bat or something with me.” You know exactly what he is asking you, and your every cell wants to kick him out of the house: another heat source removed, thank you very much. But you are generous and forgiving enough to let him stay, “As much as I want to kick your calves,” you tuck your towel a bit tighter, not that you mind getting a bit exposed in front of him, but still, “-how do you say that in Spanish? Mi casa su casa. Now SCOOT, I wanna watch the season finale I missed last week.”

The second your butt touches the cushion on the couch, Steve begins his sweet and caring and annoying mode. Frankly, he’s annoying you twenty-four-seven, whether driving you mad or buttering you up.

“Can you go change that?” His tone is strange, but you do not bother looking at him.

“Nooooo.” You scramble a bit for the remote, scrolling Netflix pages to find the unfinished season. “Why, you have a problem with towels?”

Oops, towel, not plural.

You glance at your towel, it’s white and fluffy, and perfectly fine in covering all your vital organs. The only thing, if he takes it as “inappropriate”, so be it, is that the towel is rucked up to your thigh. You can’t wear a bathrobe, you will smother. A large towel is your best choice.

Clearly, Steve thinks otherwise, “... it’s really distracting and inappropriate.”

You place the remote on the coffee table: ”It’s the 21st Century, Steve, stop fussing over my outfit.” You literally hiss at him, “plus, I’m in my own house, and you’ve seen me naked before.”

Steve gulps.

Of course, he has seen you naked before.

When you were drunk at the first college party.

Bucky was nowhere to be found when you puked all over yourself. He had to carry you to your dorm and get you changed.

It took Steve every ounce of his self-control not to ramble his affection towards you in your drunken (and most likely amnesia) state. God forbid, he wanted to fuck you then and there. Yes, he likes you and he loves you and he wants to be with you forever. He’s just a coward for not telling you.

And right now, your rucked-up towel is having a painful effect on his dick.

“I wanted to ask, by the way, what took you so long? To fetch the bakery?” You raise your eyebrows suspiciously, “you said you’d come but you got here twenty minutes later.”

Okay, by no means will Steve tell you that he didn’t want to meet you, not when he was sweaty all over. Thank you, New York. So he decided to jump in the shower at the last minute. And he took another couple of minutes to decide what to wear. Hence the delay. But he’s not telling you that.

No way. Uh-uh.

You sip on your bubbly, hearing a vague answer “ ’M with Bucky”.

To Steve’s defence, it’s not entirely a lie. He was with Bucky. He failed to mention Bucky roared with laughter when Steve rushed into the shower and picked several outfits and asked for Bucky’s opinion.

Bucky knew all about Steve’s “little secret” since high school prom, since Steve actually rambled his affection and his misery to Bucky. While Bucky set his eyes on a junior, Steve took some very awful advice from some dickhead named Rumlow and decided to tell you that he already asked some other girl. “To show off charm and popularity” were Brock’s exact words. The next day, you quickly settled with a boy from chemistry class. For all Steve knew, that boy wanted to ask you out since forever.

Bucky could only eyed Steve sympathetically and persuaded you into dancing with Steve for two songs.

Bucky is a good bro, but sometimes he’s still a punk.

You snort, not entirely believing Steve. But yeah, you’ll kill Bucky and Steve both when you have the chance, namely if they piss you off (or stop you from showering) again.

The season finale starts, and you watch it with all the attention you got. You absentmindedly hug a couple of stuffed pillows to make yourself comfortable, however, none of them is comfy enough. You throw them away from you and grab the nearest pillow.

And then it occurs to you, that you are grabbing his arm.

You ignore the fact and hug his arm anyway. To be fair, his arm is better than any pillow.

He used peppermint body wash before he came, and he smells fresh and clear. Like a chilly night after the rain, rid of the muddy air. The exact coolness you need. You inhale and sigh at the peppermint body wash. You are surprised that he makes no complaint about you squeezing his arm, since he is no different than a burning furnace in summer.

Steve Rogers is more than a burning furnace now.

He could see your cleavage if he lowers his head 15 degrees. He freezes because his elbow is pressed against your breast and he does not need his neurons telling him how soft and supple your body is. His dick is painfully hard and he is trying his best not to let you realize it.

To say he is a furnace would be an understatement.

Hell’s worst torture is better than him sitting next to you and not being able to touch you.

You finish the finale with content and a bottle of bubbly. And the credit must have done something to curse your bladder, because the second you see the names of actors and actresses, your abdomen threatens to burst.

You hurry to the bathroom, change into a clean T-shirt on your way out and drop the towel. When you return, Steve sits in the exact same spot without moving a single inch.

Strange, normally he’d take the time to stretch his legs and whatnot. And he knows you and your family well enough that he maneuvered himself dozens of times into your kitchen before, grabbing something to eat or drink. It’s unlike him to sit perfectly still throughout the hour. And definitely unlike him not to munch on something already, as he consumes calories five times than you.

His long legs prop up slightly, and you don’t want to walk around the coffee table because of multiple reasons. You can list 26 reasons for all you care, and you are determined to stride across his long legs back to your spot. Starting a new season or a new show. Anything to pass the time.

You are thinking to yourself when you lift your leg. For some goddamn reason, you trip over nothing and straddle his lap right then and there. His hands shoot up to hold on to your waist.

This is awkward.

You are so close to him that you can smell his faint aftershave. And observe that little speck of green in his baby blue eyes. His thigh is solid that you think you can grind on it and...

So not appropriate thoughts.

His eyes...... his pupils have blown wide. His Adam’s apple bobs. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. His lashes are long enough for you to slide on them.

Something in the air shifts. A thick tension hovers above you.

You wish that tension would turn into mistletoe, then you can kiss him in broad daylight.

Kiss his pink lip, tugging it with your teeth so it might flush red.

You snap out of your ridiculous thought and avert his gaze. If you are not blushing, then you sure are setting your face on fire this second.

“You look so pretty when you blush.” He whispers your name, gaining your focus once more. You can’t tell whether he’s serious or just trying to flirt. You’ve seen him flirt, up close. This, however, doesn’t feel like he’s trying to hook up with you.

“Stop making fun of me.” You pinch his arm. He doesn’t even flinch but continues whispers praises about you, making you wonder what has gotten into his head.

“God,” he cradles your head with his palm, pupils are blown so wide you can hardly see the blue in his eyes, voice so low barely you can hear, “I wish you know how I see you. Trust me when I say I’m not fucking kidding.”

You squirm nervously, spine rigid because of the terrible sitting position, and let out a dry laugh, “what’s all this... where’s this coming from, Steve?”

“Since fucking Day 1 I met you.” He scowls like an angry beast, only he’s too pretty to be one, “I wanna have you, a’ight? ‘N it shoulda been me with you at the prom. Shoulda fuckin’ tell you already. I want you all to myself with your pretty little head and pretty little smile ‘n all.”

“I wanna take you out on a date dammit.” His Brooklyn accent breaches the surface due to this little outburst and confession when you are mouth agape, utterly and completely silent.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t leave me hangin’.” His eyes seek your expression, and you are too shocked to give any.

“Steve...” You squirm more. Pantie damps because of his aggressiveness, yet you are held immobile on his lap. His grip on you tightens. Your fingertips raise to touch his chin.

You lean in, softly kissing his lips. And before that, you whispered: “I want you too.”

Notes: I wrote this in July, and it was included as one of the works of "清夏甜歌" challenge on Lofter. The theme was summer vibe and fluff, hence the heat and the cutie Stevie. Thank you for all the comments, reblogs and hearts! <<<<3

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Chapter 16 of 'Artificial Wingman!'

For the full story, click Here!

Enjoy!

---

Harley dabbs at one of the small cuts on the kid's face as her girlfriend stares at her. Truth be told, it wasn't one of the craziest stories she had ever shared, not even top ten on the list, but it was odd enough. It wasn't every day your girlfriend stumbles into your house, bruised and bloody, carrying a teenager. But a teenager was hardly something to bat an eye at compared to some of the other stuff Harley has dragged home. One of the first living beings though. Most other still alive people she drags in wind up in one of Ivy's greenhouses. Dead bodies make excellent fertilizer.

"Okay." Ivy sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just tell me you kidnapped an already kidnapped kid that you've only met once." Standing, she made her way into the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?" She called over her shoulder. 

"Eh, how about pizza?" Harley yelled back, throwing away the brownish red paper towel and grabbing one of the themed bandaids from the open first aid kit. A Robin themed one, she noted as she peeled the paper back and stuck it over the small cut. The teen didn't so much as twitch as she worked, completely passed out. 

"Pizza? Really?" Came the reply. "We had pizza two days ago." Shuffling noises reached her as Ivy came back, holding a small pile of takeout menus. Bud and Lou followed close on her heels, splitting from her as soon as they spotted Harley. Bounding over, they sniffed at her and the boy. 'Danny,' she remembered suddenly. 'Well, it's nice to have a name for the face.' 

"Alright. How about…" She glanced up from where she had moved to the teen's wrists, cutting through the ropes with a pair of scissors. "Chinese food."

Ivy scrunched her nose slightly at that. "I don't know, didn't you really piss off that one lady at our usual go-to spot?" Harley thought about it for a minute. 

"Yeah." She conceded. "But they deserved it!" The owner's son had no right to flirt with her like that! Especially not with Ivy standing right next to her the entire time.

"Her son flirting with you isn't necessarily a good reason to set Bud and Lou loose in the restaurant." Ivy pointed out.

"I disagree," she wiped antibacterial cream over the forming rashes, frowning sympathetically at the agitated skin. That's gonna hurt later. "But okay, so no Chinese. What about Batburger?" 

Ivy shook her head. "No, the one near here is closed because of Joker's gas. So are the other three that we use as backups." Harley frowned. 

"Tacos?"

"Last night's dinner."

"Denny's?" 

"Not after the Bane incident."

"Fried Chicken?" Ivy glared at her. "Okay, that one's obvious. Umm… Pizza?" Ivy sighed.

"Pizza soun's good." A male voice commented.

(Pizza sounds good.)

Both of their eyes snapped down to the teen, who was now awake. Or, more awake than he was a second ago. His eyes were glazed over, and he didn't look all that present mentally. Yet… "I cou'd go f'r pizza. 's long as it don't eat me f'rst." His words were slurred, a bit off kilter. Like he wasn't meaning to talk. 

(I could go for pizza. As long as it doesn't eat me first.)

Harley shot Ivy a look. Her girlfriend sighed. "I'll give Tony's a call." She relented. 

"Yay!" Harley cheered, high-fiving the dazed teen. He gave her a long, slow blink before wiggling his fingers. 

"I f'lt that." He stated, letting his hand fall back onto his stomach. "I couldn' earl'er."

(I felt that. I couldn't earlier.)

"Yeah, sounds like you got hit with the good stuff." Harley commented. He blinked again, his eyes drifting over the room before landing on her. Another long blink. 

"Hey, I know you." He told her, his words more clear this time. Like he was focused on saying them properly. She smirked at him.

"You were definitely hit by somethin'." She patted his head before turning and cutting his feet loose. 'Huh, he's missing a shoe.' 

"Flower shop lady." He let his eyes fall closed for a long moment, so long she thought he had passed back out. That was disproved when he opened them again. "Harley." The name was whispered, like he was telling himself. The teen gave himself a little nod, his bangs falling over his face with the action. 

Harley laughed at him, leaning over to push the locks out of his face before going back to his ankles. Thankfully, the worst of his injuries were slight bruises and a bit of rope burn. 

Pinning the last bandage in place, the woman picks the teen's feet off her lap and stands, stretching. "How ya feelin', Danny?" She asks, packing the first aid supplies away. 

"Feel?" He murmurs. "I feel… Fuzzy. Numb. Hungry? Yeah, 'm hungry." He turns his head to the side, catching sight of Bud, who was staring at him curiously. "Dog?" The teen questions, reaching his hand out to pet the hyena. 

Bud allows it. More than allows it, actually. Harley stares at the usually aggressive animal in slight surprise as he shoves his head into the teenager's hand, his tail thumping loudly against the furniture. Lou slips up next to him, nudging Danny's other hand impatiently. "Two dogs?" He lifted his other hand to pet Lou, his fingers clumsily sliding over their fur. " 'm in heav'n." The boy slurred. 

Harley laughed at him, leaning over and scratching Lou behind the ear. "They aren't dogs, Danny boy." She told him. 

He glanced over at her, blinking again. 'Kinda like Selina's cats,' She couldn't help but compare. "Dogs." He told her, looking away again when Bud's tongue swiped across his face, making the teen sputter in surprise. Harley rolled her eyes. "Since ya like the 'dogs' so much, I suppose you will be okay with 'em for a bit?" The boy didn't even acknowledge her as she left the room, his attention solely on Bud and Lou. Harley shook her head as she rounded the corner of the hallway, stepping into her's and Ivy's bedroom. She found Ivy leaning against the wall beside their bedroom window, staring out it as she spoke on the phone. "-yeah. That'll be good. Thanks." With a beep, she hung up, turning when she heard Harley approach. "Pizza should be here in about twenty minutes." She said, leaning from the wall to Harley's shoulder. 

"Great. I get the feelin' that Danny'll be pretty hungry." Harley pushed a strand of brilliant red hair behind Ivy's ear. 

Ivy glanced at her. "Is the kid alright?" She asked.

"Yeah, seems pretty out of it. Like he's high or somethin'. But he's alright. I left him with Bud and Lou." Her girlfriend raised an eyebrow at the nonchalantly statement, but said nothing, turning back to stare out the window. Harley followed her gaze, basking in a rare moment of calm.

The moment was broken by the doorbell ringing. "Huh." Ivy looked at her phone. "Weird. It hasn't been twenty minutes." She stood straight and headed towards the door. Harley followed not too far behind her, snagging her bat as she passed it. After the experience she had just had, she wasn't taking any chances. 

She watched from the shadows of the hallway as Ivy opened the door. "You're not pizza." Ivy glared at whoever was on the other side of the door. 

"No, I'm not. Sorry to disappoint." A young female voice responded, a bit of sass in her tone. "I'm looking for my little brother. Have you seen a teenager, around 15, 16'ish in age, about five three, with black hair and blue eyes?" Ivy shot a look at Harley, tilting her head towards the kid and raising her eyebrow in question. 

Harley shook her head and shrugged, before an idea struck her. Ask for a name, she mouthed at the redhead. Ivy nodded and turned back towards the stranger. "Does your brother have a name?"

The woman was silent for a moment, her shoe audibly scuffing against the steps. "Danny." She answered eventually. "His name is Danny. Have you seen him?" 

Ivy glanced back at Harley. The woman nodded, lowering her bat but keeping it in a tight grip. "Yeah. He's here." Ivy told the stranger, opening the door wider and waving her in. The first glimpse of the stranger that Harley caught was her bright ginger hair, held back from her face by a teal headband, leaving matching teal eyes visible as she glanced around the living room. Her shoulders were tense as she looked around, probably looking for hidden dangers and mapping out escape routes. Or maybe Harley had been spending too much time around the bats. 

The tension bled from the young woman's shoulders as her eyes fell on her brother, who was still busy petting the hyenas. A sigh of relief escaped her as she hurried over, dropping to her knees beside the couch. "Danny?" She whispered gently, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder.

The teen looked up, his eyes widening as he saw who had called his name. "Jazz!" He called out loudly, startling everyone in the room as he lunged to envelope the woman in a loose hug. The redhead, Jazz, let put an "oof!" sound in surprise, but returned the gesture, keeping the young man from falling off the couch. "Wh't 'r you doin' here?" He asked, blinking blearily at her. 

She laughed, pushing his hair back in a sisterly gesture. "What, you really didn't expect me to come after you?" Carefully, she pushed him back down onto the couch, gently pulling his arms from around her shoulders. "But never mind me, what happened to you?"

Danny fell quiet for a minute, clearly thinking hard. "Weeeell," the word was drawn out and slightly slurred. "Th' love potion w'rked, but this r'lly pretty guy f'll out of th sky an' land'd in it. He f'll in love w'th me, and kin'a br'ke tha p'rtal gun b'fore ki'nappin' me. An' f'r tha past week, I've b'n runnin' aroun' m'kin' a new potion. Don't r'lly know if it w'rk'd though, 'cause th're was a crowd, an' I lost R'bin, an' then th're w's this dude in a cl'wn m'sk, an' this weird gas, an' ev'rythin' went fuzzy. Th'n there was th's moldy eggplant g'y, he had a r'lly gross la'gh. But I bit 'em, an' he thr'w me, and I ate some rope. Th'n I was here, with tha nice dogs, and th're's gonna be pi'zza!" The teen rambled about his experiences, his words barely understandable to the two women watching the interaction in a mixture of confusion and interest. 

(Weeeell, the love potion worked, but this really pretty guy fell out of the sky and landed in it. He fell in love with me, and kinda broke the portal gun before kidnapping me. And for the past week, I've been running around making a new potion. Don't really know if it worked though, 'cause there was a crowd, and I lost Robin, and then there was this dude in a clown mask, and this weird gas, and everything went fuzzy. Then there was this moldy eggplant guy, he had a really gross laugh. But I bit him and he threw me, and I ate some rope. Then I was here, with the nice dogs, and there's gonna be pizza!)

Jazz, however, seemed to understand him just fine. She nodded along as he excitedly told his tale, expertly dodging stray hands as her brother animatedly talked. When he was finally finished, she patted his knee. "Well, it sounds like quite the adventure." 

"Uh-huh." The teen agreed, his attention straying back to the hyenas. His sister made no move to stop him as he reached out to pet Lou again. 

"Alright, you rest up, m'kay? I'm here now." The teen's eyes flickered to her as she stood up, but his attention was claimed by Bud's wet nose pushing into his cheek. Jazz walked towards the two women, who had retreated to the kitchen in hopes of not looking too nosey. Well, Ivy had retreated, Harley had been dragged out of the living room. Still, both of them looked up when she stopped a few feet away. "Thank you for looking after my brother. He tends to be a danger magnet when left alone." Her hand drifted up to her neck, rubbing her nape as she spoke. 

"It's not a problem! Danny's welcome here anytime!" Harley crowed from her seat on the counter, her legs swinging as she shoved her hand into a bag of chocolate chips she had procured from the cabinet. Jazz smiled at her gratefully.

"Oh!" The girl perked up suddenly. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Jasmine, but most people call me Jazz." She held her hand out to Ivy, who just so happened to be closest. 

"Ivy. It's nice to meet you, Jasmine." Ivy shook the girl's hand.

Harley tossed her treat to the side, hopping off the counter. "Harley Quinn, nice ta meetcha!" She took Jazz's hand in hers, shaking firmly, before letting go at the sound of the doorbell again. "Ooh! That must be the pizza!" Before either of them could react, the woman was off. Ivy sighed at her girlfriend's antics, following after her girlfriend a bit slower, keeping pace with Jazz. 

"Is she always like that?" The woman asked curiously.

Ivy snorted. "You have no idea."

---

(I know that there are some writing and/or grammar mistakes, but it's okay because I tried my best!)

For all the lovely people who follow along with this story, as well as the amazing person who made the prompt for this story!

@halfblackwolfdemon @manapeer @xxwintrynightzxx @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @blu-lilac @academicpurposes @secretdestinywerewolf @passivedecept @naluforever3 @postit-nope @spiteismymiddlename @2t-productions @plague-daisy @feet-achy @bubblecookies16 @thesapphiredragon13 @justwannabecat @magicalcollecter @adeniumdream @amuseofminds @lupagrim @readerkayden @dr-syko-pharm-4 @ladythugs @angelheartgamer @markthespot68 @kyrianclawraith @michikoy-yuki @servasvictoria02 @your-emo-nightmare @vala-dreams @scarlett-green-rose @t1dwarrior-of-earth @charlie-the-frogie @akikoyuii @mysticalcomputerdetective @roseuniverse999 @im-totally-not-an-alien @thefearfullone @weird-droplet-309 @jaytriesstuff @raventao @jacquelynwinchester @dragongoblet @tlise21 @longlivethefallen @the-archer-goddess @temple-of-jalebi @adepresseddwightsblogofjunk @plainly-colorful @the-legalHe-shipper @49saltpeppershakers @igotafewbadideas @tumbling-darkling @sparklygardenbouquet @sarcastic-yami @blueneko9314 @starscreamlover @liedboutmurder @do3y @roze-realm @some-mildly-happy-human @yinari-uchiha @azuera @chaoticmistake @altairsarts @kawaiikenna @heartsong18 @thetoyboxs @tricksovertreats @mnemovoid @lim4b3ans @horribly-lost-and-gay @keimiwolf @dryeraseslime @joey394

[gemini-sensei]

Another chaotic idea that I love, so here, have it.

CW for a nongraphic birth scene

Poly Hawk and Miguel who are in crunch time preparing for the birth of their twin boys. They're so excited bunt very nervous because their wife is heavily pregnant and can hardly leave the house. The entire pregnancy they have been by her side, doing most everything for her. They've been over protective baby daddies since the beginning, not even letting g her use a kitchen knife. They mean well and Reader loves them even if they are over protective.

When they found out they were having twins, everyone was so excited. When they found out they were having twin boys, oh, everyone is thrilled. Hawk and Migue gush about wanting to tach them karate and how badass their little boys are going to be. Reader loves seeing how excited they are about it.

They all read to the babies; Miguel reads them baby books in Spanish and Hawk tells them stories in Hebrew. They were a little worried about confusing the babies at first, but Reader assured them that they are doing perfectly fine. She's enchanted by their ability to be multilingual and loves that they'll impart that onto their children.

Well, one day, while Hawk and Miguel are out running some errands, getting ready for the birth of their babies and staying home for paternity leave, they get a call that Reader is in labor. They're freaking out, but the good thing is Reader isn't home alone. Sam, Moon, Yasmine and Tory were there helping put the final touches on the nursery and other things. So they make a plan to go to the hospital and the guys will meet the ladies there.

Only when Reader arrives at the hospital, they tell her she's not in labor and that she need to go home. Tory and Sam is ready to riot, but there's nothing they can do unless they want to get kicked out of the hospital, so they turn around and go home. They update Hawk and Miguel on the situation and Hawk is up in arms about the whole thing, but everyone agrees to meet at home and go from there.

Well, when they get home, the ladies lay Reader down in her bed and she rest, still feeling some pains. They bring her cold water and rags, but not ten minutes since getting home, she feels an immense amount of pressure. She telling her friends something is wrong and Moon decides to take a look and she'll be damned if she doesn't see a baby's head crowning.

Yeah, birth is happening right fucking now.

Hawk and Miguel come home not long after that, just in time to see the birth of their first son. They rush to Reader's side as she's handed the messy, crying baby. She's crying too, a mix between pain and happiness. One of them picks up the rag and wipes her for head while the other comforts her and assures her she's doing a great job. They're not given much time before the next baby is coming and she has to push.

The ladies have a pretty good system, Moon delivers the babies, Tory had previously been keeps Reader cools off, and Yasmine and Sam got everything ready to clean up and wrap the babies. So the first baby is handed off to Yasmine and Sam so Reader can push and Hawk and Miguel take her hands, telling her how amazing and strong she is.

The second baby boy is there in no time. He's quiet at first, but as soon as he's breathing, he's wailing. He's cleaned up, wrapped in a warm blanket, then handed to Reader with his brother and she's smiling so happy.

At first, the guys think she might be delighted that's its over, but them she mumbles "I'm going to go back to that hospital and kill all the stupid men who tried to tell me I wasn't in labor."

Mama isn't happy.

Tory isn't either as she says, "No, you worry about those two. I'll handle those dumbasses at the hospital."

"Thank you..."

Needless to say, there were many angry faces at the hospital when they went back, wheeling in Reader as she holds two little babies to her chest. She's so tired and if looks could kill...

The babies are healthy. They're five days early from when Reader was going to be induced, but they're healthy and happy. They love to lay and sleep on their mama's chest, love it when their daddy's hold them, and get so much attention from the nurseries staff for be quite chubby for being twins and preemies.

Hawk and Miguel gush and fuss over Reader, marveled and in awe that she actually gave birth to the twins at their house. It was so scary for them, but she waves them off saying "I did what I had to."

They still give her big kisses on the cheek for it "as a reward."

And let's not overlook the fact that they, and Tory, likely almost brat the shit out of the doctor that told their wife to go home.

[downwiththeficness]

The Usurper-Chapter Three

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~3,000

Disclaimer: I do not consent to this work being copied or posted to other sites of blogs.

Start at the Beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

Lilah pulled the door to the bedroom shut and grabbed another wipe from the nearly empty canister. She ran it over the entire frame of the door, paying special attention to the knob and the area around it. For six hours, she’d been erasing every trace of herself in the bedroom and adjoining bathroom. She scrubbed the walls, the baseboards, swept, mopped, and dusted. She even vacuumed out the vents. Tonight would be the last night she slept in this apartment. By the time the sun rose two days from now, she would be looking down at the deep blue of the Atlantic from tens of thousands of feet.

After tossing the wipe into a bulging trash bag that was filled with items she would no longer need, Lilah made sure to tie it firmly closed. Then, she dragged it over to the door to be taken out when she got her energy back. Drained and achy, Lilah dropped down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.

Even as tired as she was, Lilah couldn’t quite put from her mind that she agreed to have dinner with Antonio in...she tapped her phone...three hours. Not that Antonio would let her forget. She was sure that wasn’t his intention, but every few hours he would send he a text with a question. Can I cook for you? Do you like red wine? How do you feel about spicy food? Does seven o’ clock work? Simple things that made her stare at the screen and wonder if he paid any attention at all to her preferences over the course of their time together. Of course, most of those preferences were probably lies she told to make him like her more, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered.

Lilah told herself that she was only going to his house in order to keep up appearances. And, of course, to hear the story of what happened to him while he was gone. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, and it might be nothing interesting at all. But, she would eat with him and listen, if that was what he wanted. It would be her parting gift to him before she disappeared along with the staff.

When the worst of her exhaustion faded, Lilah stood and went to the kitchen where she washed her hair and body with water from the sink. It was not ideal, but a kitchen sink was easier to clean than a shower and tub. The act of scrubbing away the dirt on her limbs had the effect of scrubbing away some of her fatigue. By the time she pulled the plug in the sink, she was feeling much more enthusiastic about going out.

Dressed, with hair and make up done, Lilah stood near the door and looked around the apartment. She still had so much work to do, and there was only another twenty four hours to do it in. For a moment, she debated canceling on Antonio and spending the rest of the night deep cleaning the walls, floors, and furniture. Her curiosity refused to allow it. Lilah had to admit that she really, really wanted to know where he ran off to.

Resigned and a little disappointed in herself, Lilah grabbed the trash bag and stepped outside. She tossed it in the dumpster and got in her car. Antonio lived a few minutes away in a house provided for him by the church. It was small. Humble. Decorated with an impressive number of crosses. Lilah only knew this because she attended a small get together with other church members after she and Antonio began to see one another. Aside from that one instance, she hadn’t been invited inside.

Lilah pulled to a stop in the driveway. Antonio’s car wasn’t there. She paused before cutting the engine, wondering if she was too early. A quick check at their messages throughout the day confirmed the time. Seven pm on the dot. She threw her phone back into her bag and eased out of the car just as the front door opened.

Antonio smiled at her from inside the threshold and Lilah smiled back. When she met him at the door, he greeted her with a pleased, “Hello. Come in.”

Lilah stepped inside and started to reply, but was startled when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. He didn’t seem to notice her lifted brows or wide eyes as she followed him into the living room. She stared at him from behind, noting that he was wearing all black, a color palette that she never thought would suit him so well. He was also wearing the leather gloves.

From somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen came the delicious, savory smell of cooking food. It made her realize that she’d forgotten to eat lunch. Her stomach cramped with anticipation and, thankfully, it looked like the table was already set.

Antonio pulled out her chair for her, “Wine?”

“Uh huh,” Lilah answered absently. She was struggling to keep the wonder and confusion from her face. He was handling her with a familiarity that they didn’t share and it was unsettling. Even the way he was moving around the table, pouring wine into glasses was entirely too easy. Smooth. Practiced. Had she ever seen him drink before? Lilah didn’t think she had.

“The meal is ready, if you don’t mind eating now.”

More English. Heavily accented, but far more fluent than she knew him to be. She failed to smile, saying, “I could eat.”

He nodded and left for the kitchen, returning with two plates and setting them down, “I haven’t cooked in a long time, but I hope you will like this.”

Lilah managed to pull her lips into a small smile, “I’m sure I will.” Then, because she literally could not think of anything else to say, “Not to broach the subject too quickly, but you said you would tell me what happened.”

His head tilted to the side and he regarded her with a look that was almost amused, “I did say that.” A pause, “I think you might not believe it.”

Lilah sipped her wine, “Try me.”

Antonio took a breath, “I was kidnapped.”

Good start. Her brows lifted, “Oh? By who?”

“I don’t know,” he replied easily. “I remember finishing my notes. It was late. Dark. And, when I locked up the church, there were people standing on the steps. They took me, threw me in the trunk of a car. We drove for a long time.” Antonio’s eyes dropped to the table, “A long time. It was still dark—or maybe it was dark again—when they pulled me out. They dragged me into a cave and then I couldn’t see anything. Twists and turns...so many that I lost any sense of direction.”

Lilah stared at him while he talked. The rhythm and timbre of his voice pulled her in, made her focus on him intensely. She could almost see exactly what he was describing to her, could almost feel the fear he must have felt. Her breaths picked up and her muscles tightened, as if preparing to move.

“And then they left me,” he continued. “I was blind, lost, and terrified.”

She shook her head to clear it and gulped down a little wine, “But, you found your way out.”

“I did,” he confirmed. “I don’t know how long it took. But, I crawled to the surface and stood alone in the sand.”

Lilah swallowed around a dry throat, picturing the man across from her as a solitary figure in the wilderness, “You were gone about three weeks.”

Antonio nodded, “Three weeks, then.”

“How did you survive?” she asked, “Without food? Without water?”

“I found a stream, of sorts, flowing through the rock. And, there was more than just me in that cave.”

She didn’t quite like the way his mouth twisted around those words. Lilah drank a little more wine to have something to do with her hands. The wine was excellent. Full bodied with a hint of spice that she didn’t know was missing from the boxed wine she usually drank. Lilah decided that she would pick up a few bottles before she left, “Where did you get the wine? I don’t think I’ve had it before.”

Antonio’s expression grew smug, “Its my own vintage.”

“You make wine?” When he nodded, she said, “You’ve never talked about it before.”

A shrug, “Its a recent hobby.”

“Well, you’re doing an amazing job so far.”

“Thank you.”

“Listen, Antonio—,”

He cut her off with a swipe of his hand, “Please don’t call me that. I am not that man, anymore.”

Lilah blinked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“You wouldn’t,” he replied easily, “What happened in the cave...changed me.”

“Clearly.”

He reached forward and refilled her glass while a silence dropped heavily on the table between them. His expression was carefully neutral. Lilah recognized the self-soothing he must be doing to regain control of himself while he relived what must be a horrific experience. She reluctantly allowed herself to feel sympathy for him. However much Antonio was being used by Lilah to accomplish her goals, he wasn’t a bad man. He certainly didn’t deserve to go through what he’d just described to her.

Lilah picked at her food a bit and found it as good as the wine. She waited until she’d taken a few bites to make any attempt at continuing the conversation, “What do you want me to call you?”

“Brasa.”

She paused mid-chew, “Is that, like, a middle name?”

“Something like that.”

“So, Brasa,” Lilah enunciated with a little bite in her tone, “is there more that’s changed?” When he made a soft sound of question, she continued, “You come back after spending three weeks in a cave with a new sense of style, a new name, and the sudden ability to speak a language you claimed not to know. I’m just wondering what else has changed.”

She didn’t know why she was pushing him. It wasn’t as if she was going to see him again after tomorrow. Something wasn’t adding up. A lot of things weren’t adding up. Lilah wished she was the kind of person to let it go. She wasn’t. The questions kept coming to her with the demand to be answered. The fact that she didn’t have those answers readily available to her was irritating.

“Everything.”

Lilah blinked, “What?”

Brasa leaned forward and his eyes were very focused on her face, “Everything has changed. For the better, I hope.”

“I don’t know what to do with that statement.”

To be irrevocably changed by a kidnapping wasn’t so strange to hear. Lilah had seen it a time or two before. But, Brasa wasn’t cowering in fear. He wasn’t shying from touch and he didn’t appear to dissociate, as so often happened while the brain tried to resolve the experience. On the other hand, he wasn’t barreling ahead without regard for himself or other, as others might do. He was just...accepting it and moving on. Nobody could manage that.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do with it,” he said with an airy laugh. “We can figure it out together.”

Stewing in irritation, Lilah drained half her glass. Looking at him from over the rim, she finally said what she was thinking, “Are you fucking with me?” Dark brows lifted in surprise. Lilah set her glass down, “Or, have you been fucking with me the whole time? Playing with me like I’m some dumb foreigner who doesn’t know better.”

“I’m not fucking with you.”

She rose with a vague sense of panic, “See? Right there. I’ve never heard you cuss before. You are a preacher, for Christ’s sake.”

The shrug he gave was so calm that Lilah was reminded of the old Antonio, “Death will make a man new.”

“You died?”

“In a way.”

Lilah threw up her hands, “I give up.”

Brasa stood and approached her slowly, “Please try to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Lilah shouted before she could catch herself. Knowing that she was very not calm, she sniffed and tried to center her emotions. “This is too much for one night.”

“You did ask me to tell you what happened.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “I did. I got what I asked for. But, um, I was not prepared for...all of this.”

Brasa shifted on his feet, “Let’s put this aside for now, hmm? We’ll talk about other things.”

“What other things?”

One side of his mouth lifted, “You can tell me what you think of the staff taking my place while I was gone. I am hearing he made an impression on the flock.”

Against her will, Lilah found a smile working its way across her lips, “Yeah, that is one way to describe it.”

He gestured towards the table, “Are you finished?” When Lilah nodded, he said, “Then, let’s sit, have some wine, and talk.”

Lilah let him lead her to the living room where she sat carefully on the couch, wine glass in hand, “You don’t want to...process what happened to you more?”

Brasa sat next to her, “Its done. I’m focused on moving forward.”

She looked at him with a quizzical expression, eventually deciding that he might be in shock or denial. In any case, she wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out. “Your, uh, replacement, is a bit intense.”

He almost smiled, “I’m eager to hear him speak tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow?”

A nod, “The congregation is holding a special service in honor of my return.”

Shit, she thought. How long is that going to take?

Brasa didn’t seem to notice her suddenly furrowed brows, “I’m told it will be a candlelight service followed by an outdoor meal.”

I can work with that.

Lilah relaxed her expression, “Where outdoors?”

“Behind the church.”

“Ah.” Lilah met his eyes and caught a glimmer of curiosity in them. As if he could hear her mind working to piece together a timeline that would get her in and out of the church unnoticed while everyone was eating. “That’s nice of them to do that for you.”

Brasa shrugged, “They asked me to speak and I told them no.”

That brought her up short, “Why?”

“I think,” he said thoughtfully, “that I’m not ready to be their leader.” A smile, “And, I wanted to know if the gossip was true.”

Lilah laughed, “I’m sure they’ll understand if you’re not ready to preach again.”

Brasa’s smile tightened, “May I sit with you? Tomorrow?”

He wanted to sit with her? Lilah gave herself a mental shake, “Yes, of course. When does the service start?”

His expression warmed, “Sunset. I’ll come by your apartment and we can walk together.”

Lilah didn’t like the way her heart gave a little giddy up, “Sure. Yeah.”

He reached over and took her hand, “Good.”

Lilah didn’t like the way he was holding her hand. She didn’t like the warm affection in his gaze. She didn’t like him. “Alright,” she said in a tone even her ears could detect was odd, “I should go. Its late.”

Brasa rose with her and walked her to the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Uh huh,” Lilah replied. “Tomorrow.”

He opened the door with one hand and the other fell to her waist. Lilah could see that he was going to kiss her and she knew she wasn’t going to stop him. She wasn’t making an excuse. She wasn’t pretending to be embarrassed or shy. She was, in fact, letting him pull her close. Letting him tilt her chin up. Letting him press his mouth to hers.

The first kiss was short. Soft. A question. The second kiss was more confident. It lingered, drawing her in until Lilah was returning it with equal confidence. Where was he hiding these kisses before? Where was he hiding this slow burning passion?

Lilah made herself break the kiss before she got carried away. Her mouth pulled into a grin when he gave a disappointed sigh. Brasa wasn’t quite pouting, but he was close. His eyes were dark, almost black, and they were focused on her mouth. She could feel the way he wanted to kiss her again. Lilah had to get out of there before he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” came out softer than she intended. Lilah slid past him onto the porch and, when the heat of his body faded from her skin, she turned and hurried to her car.

The drive back to her apartment was filled with every curse she ever knew, and some made up curses that felt right in the moment. She couldn’t believe how easily he’d knocked her off center, how he’d made her take her eyes off the prize. How he’d made her doubt herself.

Angry, she threw her body out of the car and stomped up to her door. After keying inside, she threw down her purse and slide down the door until she sat on the floor. “You’re an idiot,” she growled to the empty room. “Forget about him and fucking focus.”

In her purse, her phone buzzed. She swiped a hand down her face and dug around for it. The screen lit up with a message from Mr. Pickerelle. He wanted an update. Mouth curling, Lilah tapped out a response and sent it. The job would be done tomorrow. She’d see him in a few days.

“Focus, Lilah,” she mumbled while she got her legs underneath her, “He’s just a man.”

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Five, Part 4

I let Shaun leave first, after he got caught up on the dishes. There was maybe a rack or two still, but one of us could run it. Adam finished cleaning up his spot and he was next to go. Justin and I were usually the last two of the kitchen, usually him before me, and I'd find him sitting outside at the bar, oblivious to Nugget's flirty eyes.

We finished cleaning and wiping everything just after ten thirty. I had some paper work to fill out but that would take me five minutes. I'd be done by the time my friends showed up. And I'd have time to change.

"I'm punching out then," Justin said, tossing his apron and rags into the hamper. They'd be clean by morning. Not long after, I added my own to the pile of sauce-covered aprons and black greasy rags.

"Alright, have a good one," I said, waving him off, distracted. I hated paperwork but it's part of the job, so it needs to be done. I was almost finished and didn't want to lose my train of thought.

I finished up, filed it, and grabbed my backpack, and headed into the employee bathroom. I quickly changed into my Goth Rock uniform; black pants, a torn up and safety pinned Sisters of Mercy T-shirt, and fishnet sleeves on my arms. My nails were already painted black (which is usually a no no in the kitchen but I said fuck it. I'm wearing gloves anyway). And finally, I threw on some very basic black eyeliner and red and black eye-shadow. I looked like the year 2005's entire mall goth subculture personified. I threw my work clothes into my bag, threw it over my shoulder and headed out to the bar.

Justin was sitting at the far end, and I nodded at him. Amber was basically fawning over him She caught me out of the corner of her eye and started over, stopping to grab a High Life from the beer cooler. I was pretty predictable, I guess.

"Busy night," she stated, sitting the cold beer in front of me.

"Yeah, it was a wild one."

"What's with the Hot Topic special?"

"Going to Club Specter with some friends," I laughed and took a large drink from the glass bottle.

"You? You're going to a club?" She said, mirroring Addison's reaction. Which only caused me to laugh even more.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I said, biting at my lower lip.

"I'm assuming with them," Amber pointed to two people walking into the bar, dressed in all black and wearing heavy makeup. They me sitting at the bar and waved, making a beeline for my little quiet corner.

"Hey man, looking snazzy," Conner said as he sat down next to me.

"What's up, n*****?" Kayla said. She only called me that because she knew I absolutely hated it. It was her entire mission in life to make me as uncomfortable as she can possibly make me. Isn't that a thing friends do?

"Thanks. How come you guys made the trip out tonight?" I asked. Usually, these two weren't so impulsive and made out plans.

"Celebrating. Six months clean from down today," Conner said proudly. There was a very scary time period where Conner developed a serious love affair with heroin. He was practically dead by the end of it, and only got healthy due a bunch of us got together and basically forced him to get clean. I was there, but I said nothing. I didn't have anything to say. I couldn't understand it, and that meant I didn't know anything about it. As much as I wanted Conner to get better, I didn't know his reasoning for wanting to die so badly. And maybe it was a good reason. Everyone makes their own choices.

"Oh, hell yeah, dude. Congratulations. Keep this shit up. I'm proud of you." Kayla and him had started dating soon after he got clean. And she was perfect for him. They both were strange little enigmas, dressing like hippies, but turning around and listening to death metal. Ninety percent of the time, they were stoned. The weed apparently helped Conner stay away from the other stuff.