#i never drink it and i just take normal half n half in my coffee but i always find oat milk so yummy if i happen upon some

[tmpestuous]

Six Days

Summary: You make the effort to avoid Bucky during a mission after he upsets you in an argument, but things quickly take a turn for the worse. 

Pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight mentions of torture/hydra experimentation, blood, canon level violence, hurt!reader, sad!bucky

a/n: welcome to my first (real) post! i haven’t written in a long time so my apologies if this is a bit rusty. this was inspired by an excerpt on a post i saw and decided to turn it into a prompt: 

“He held her face in his hands. 

‘Do you think I care about anything but you?’”

--

You were on edge. 

This was the first mission in a long time where you hadn’t spent the night before with Bucky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms, and waking up with another before heading off. Your regular routine almost happened. It would have happened if it hadn’t been for the argument that happened just about five minutes before you were ready for bed, an argument you deemed unnecessary and frustrating the second you stormed out of Bucky’s room and back into the one you barely spent any time in anymore. 

Not having that routine definitely threw you off your game. After dealing with a restless night and a series of tosses and turns, you decided to just stay up until you had to leave. 

Biggest mistake you could have ever made, you thought.

You packed everything you needed and, first thing in the morning, walked straight into the kitchen to fill up a thermos with a lot more coffee than you’d ever drink on a normal day before heading off to the quinjet launchpad without a word. Everyone else eyed you as you walked out; your usual, greeting nature was replaced by a silent one, a sight no one had seen since you first joined the Avengers. Once you exited, everyone’s eyes quickly turned to Bucky who had walked in just as silent. Though it was less rare for Bucky to avoid conversation, the two of you being separate was the clear elephant in the room.

Bucky looked up to meet everyone’s gazes on him, his brows furrowing immediately in annoyance.

“What’s the problem?” 

“Something going on between you and Y/n?” Sam asked without hesitation. He beared witness to the entirety of your relationship with Bucky, especially since he was often assigned to missions with the both of you. If anyone could tell something was off, it’d be him. 

“She’ll get over it,” Bucky replied monotonously before also heading out to the launchpad, everyone else straggling out shortly after.

You were already sitting in your normal seat inside of the quinjet, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone to distract yourself from the eyes that would eventually fall on you as you heard everyone else approaching. 

Though you were still angry, Bucky was not. In fact, he was more angry with himself than he was with you. He didn’t even think he was upset with you at all, but he was convinced you thought otherwise. 

Finishing a shower after an intense sparring session had never felt better to you. 

You had been with the Avengers for about two years now, picking up on more useful ways to use your fighting abilities rather than always being so destructive. Old members of Hydra, who decided they wanted to somehow reinstate and resolidify the organization, had taken you–along with more people than you could count on both of your hands–to be experimented on with a serum similar to the ones used on Bucky and Steve. After managing to escape, you had definitely lost a piece of yourself. It took a while to warm up to the thought of fighting alongside such honorable people, but after two years, you had found your home. 

The first year and a half was strictly training and shadowing anyone who had gone on a mission. You were eager to prove yourself as being part of the team, and in the last six months, Steve and Tony had agreed to allow you to not just shadow missions, but be part of them. You had just finished mission 26 as being “part of the team” two days ago, and Steve had stopped you before your workout with Natasha to let you know that he thinks you might be able to do your first solo mission. 

That news definitely kicked your motivation into overdrive during sparring. Natasha’s never been one to go easy on you, per your own request, and was riding on a 10-0 streak against you.

That streak got broken fairly quicker than she had expected.

Upon finishing your workout, you were most excited to tell Bucky the news. He had been there the whole ride to see just how hard you’ve worked to get to where you are today, especially sharing the experience of being under Hydra and struggling to use your abilities for the right reasons. 

But for some reason, things just didn’t go as you expected. 

And it hurt. Really hurt.

Bucky stepped on the jet and gave you a quick glance. Everyone else had taken their usual seat, meaning the only one available was the one he always took right next to yours. He sighed deeply to himself before sitting down, seeing you immediately cross your arms across your chest from his peripheral vision.

This was definitely going to be a long trip.

You didn’t say a word to him the entire ride. Not even so much as a shoulder or thigh touch. You kept your stoic nature for all of the ten hours you were sat next to him. 

Bucky was losing his patience, and the only person he blamed was himself. This might have been the first day in the year and some months that you’ve been together that you hadn’t said a single word to him, and it was eating him alive.

It was most definitely eating you alive too, but you couldn’t get the argument you two had out of your head. 

Bucky was starting to pack his things when you had walked into his room, his attention quickly diverting to the door and onto you, shooting you a soft smile.

“You’re back already?” He asked, knowing you always took a hefty moment to yourself to relax after sparring with Natasha. 

“You are now looking at the woman with a singular victory against Agent Natasha Romanoff,” you said confidently with a playful victory bow, making Bucky chuckle as he stood up and made his way over to you. 

Standing up straight to look up at him, Bucky cupped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. “I’m so very proud of you, baby,” he said with his lips grazing yours that had just pulled into a small smile. 

“I also might have really good news,” you said in an eager tone, which Bucky noticed and loved immediately. 

“What’s the good news?” He asked right away as he wrapped his arms around your waist, wanting to hear your excitement. After seeing you have so many losses, with yourself and others, he knew you took every win very seriously. You reminded him of himself when he first joined the Avengers as well, and knew just how difficult it was to adjust and get even just a glimpse of triumph.

“Steve pulled me aside today and said he thinks I might be ready for solo missions,” you responded as you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck. “He saw how well I did during the last mission and wants to see how I do alone. He just wants Tony to agree first.”

Bucky’s face dropped slightly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked rather than answering his question, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

Of course you thought you were ready. You had prepared long enough for this and knew you could take on the challenge. You also thought that Bucky of all people would be able to recognize that and agree. 

“You’ve only been on 26 missions, honey,” he contested. “It took me a lot longer than that before I was even able to handle a mission with just Sam.”

“So you think that I can’t go on a mission by myself because it took you longer to adjust than it took for me?” you asked incredulously as you pulled out of Bucky’s grasp and took a few steps back. 

Bucky ran his hands over his face in frustration. He knew just how stubborn you were; he had seen it mission after mission and debrief after debrief. You were never one to stand down from defending yourself and your decisions. However, you had never been so persistent with him over anything beyond a playful dispute between the both of you.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Y/n, so can we table this conversation and go to bed?” he bargained with you softly. 

You scoffed. “You just patronized me by implying that I’m incapable of handling a mission on my own and you want me to ‘table the conversation’?”

Given your tenacious anger, you knew it’d be best to not say anything at all until you felt a lot calmer about the situation. You had surely pondered if you were just overreacting, but Bucky’s words still hurt you.

He was never one to patronize you or make you feel like you couldn’t do something. In fact, it had always been the opposite. To hear that he felt you were incapable of taking on something you felt you were ready for had stung you harder than any other accusation ever thrown at you. He was the man you loved, the one person on the team who you trusted the most, and he thought you were unprepared.

So you avoided him. The jet landed and you gathered your things and walked right past him. You got lucky that Clint couldn’t come on the mission anymore and you could take his room so you wouldn’t be stuck with Bucky for the entire week. 

Bucky had felt like he was stabbing himself in the chest. He couldn’t sleep the entire night. This seemed to be a mission of firsts for the both of you, including the first time you were both on a mission and slept in different rooms since you’ve been together. 

The next morning, Bucky felt he made it worse. He wandered over to your room before it was time to meet everyone else, knocking on the door loud enough for you to hear it but not make himself obvious in the hallway.

You opened the door, looking right at him though Bucky felt like you were looking through him.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded softly. “I know this isn’t the best timing—”

“Then maybe we should wait until we get back, don’t you think?” you interrupted, your voice a bit raspy from the lack of communication with anyone.

“I can’t think straight on a mission knowing that you’re upset with me, baby,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. You knew he didn’t want to upset you, but you also didn’t want to direct your anger towards him. It was the one thing you had both promised to each other. “Please?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Bucky,” you replied sternly, your use of his name feeling like a knife through his back. “Can we just do this after?”

He nodded, not wanting to prod you any further than your limit. He whispered a soft “okay” before walking back to his room.

That was the last you spoke to each other before everything happened.

Your mission started off smoothly. You were paired up with Steve, who wanted to monitor you a bit closer while on a mission to further confirm his confidence in you. He also didn’t want to pair you with Bucky when you had tension with each other, wanting the mission to go successfully and without distractions.

You and Steve would take the fifth and sixth floor of the building to locate the files you needed to extract. Natasha would take the third and fourth floor, Bucky and Sam the first and second. Tony would be eyeing the outside perimeter for extra threats and also spotting Natasha a helpful eye, though everyone knew she could handle herself well. 

After fighting off a few straggling guards, you found the file you needed. The only problem was the faint beep, beep, beep you heard somewhere in your vicinity. Steve was keeping watch outside, fighting off the backup that was eventually called when they realized you were here. You couldn’t locate where the sound was coming from, but you knew it wasn’t a good one. 

“Hey, Steve, you busy?” you said, the hint of fear in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, hearing your tone. You could hear his shield bouncing off the walls as he responded.

“I’m hearing a beeping noise from in here and I can’t find it at all,” you said as you kept tearing the room apart carefully, not trying to accidentally trigger anything. 

“What do you think it is, Agent?” he asked, and you knew he was trying to turn this into some sort of test like your life wasn’t probably at risk.

“The only possibility is an explosive of some sort,” you responded, trying to hide the irritation in your voice from still being monitored on a mission like a child. “I can’t really make out where it’s coming from and it’s nowhere that I’ve searched in the entire room, so it’s probably hidden somewhere.” The beeping then started at a quicker pace, only making your nerves go into overdrive.

“I’ll finish up out here and then help y—”

Boom. 

“Rogers? Y/l/n?” Tony spoke anxiously into comms.

“What the hell was that, Tony?” Bucky asked immediately, not liking the tone in his voice while he said both yours and Steve’s names.

“Explosion on floor five. Rogers and Y/l/n aren’t responding.”

“Y/n? Steve?” Sam tried to reach out. Nothing.

“All I’m getting is static, guys,” Natasha chimed in. “I’m headed up.”

Bucky jolted into the staircase, running faster than he could even process. He eventually caught up with Natasha, Tony and Sam both flying in from either side of the building to the fifth floor. The entire floor was filled with smoke, though the hallway was a bit clearer than the room you had been in alone.

Natasha caught a glimpse of Steve, who was thankfully conscious, as he tried to lift himself up with a a cough to expel the smoke from his lungs. Tony helped him up and Steve immediately caught Bucky’s eyes, filled with anxiety he hadn’t seen in him in a while. He then looked at the door and Bucky understood that you were in there.

He knocked the door in with no hesitation, though something was blocking his entry. Steve and Tony made their way over to help him push the door, moving the cabinet that had been flung across the room with the impact of the explosion. Bucky slipped through the door, blue eyes scattering across the room until he saw your hand sticking out from behind some debris. Using his metal arm to lift up the equipment that had fallen on top of you, he moved it over to the side before kneeling in front of you. He noticed the large piece of shrapnel sticking into your abdomen, a fairly large blood stain tainting your suit and your breaths extremely shallow.

Your eyes were half open as they landed on him, though your body desperately wanted to fall out of consciousness.

“Hey, honey, I’m here,” he said as your eyes glossed over. 

You felt too weak to talk, it hurt just to breathe with the impeding metal in your stomach. The one moment you wanted to say something to him and you couldn’t. 

“I’m here, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here,” he said as his eyes stayed firmly on you, his ears tuning out Steve directing Sam, Tony, and Natasha to prepare for an emergency evac back home. “You’re gonna be okay, everything’s gonna be okay.” 

Bucky cupped your face lightly, running his thumbs across your cheeks carefully over a few cuts. His face and tears streaming down his cheeks was the last thing you remembered seeing before the darkness reeled you in.

_

It had been six days. 

Six days since you all successfully evacuated the mission. Six days since they removed the metal from your stomach safely. Six days since they found out the extent of your other injuries from the blow. Six days since you had been unconscious. Six days that Bucky hadn’t left your side for a second.

He had already regretted everything he said to you the night before your mission, but now he felt like he had made the biggest mistake of his life by even upsetting you. Bucky knew you probably wanted to cool down, memorizing all of your coping mechanisms and the way you communicated your feelings. But something in his head told him to talk to you sooner, and he only wished you had let him before everything else fell apart.

He hadn’t slept in the six days you’d been unconscious. You had suffered such a serious head trauma that the doctors in the medical wing of the compound were surprised your scans came back clean. On top of the fractured ribs, the wound in your stomach, and the broken leg, everyone had already known you were a trooper.

By the sixth day, Bucky’s eyes were finally starting to get tired. 

He fought sleep off as hard as he could, not wanting to take his eyes off of you for a second. Sam had come in several times throughout the week to bring him food to eat, though he could barely finish any of it. Steve had urged him to go shower every day, promising to watch you and alert him if any changes had happened, pleading with him until he finally agreed. Bucky would rush to shower and immediately ran back as he had finished and gotten dressed. Steve would just give him a pat on the shoulder and a longing look, knowing he couldn’t push any more out of his best friend who was watching intently over the love of his life. 

Bucky laid his head on the small space on the side of the bed next to you, his thumb running soothing motions back and forth on your hand as his solemn, blue eyes watched you take small breaths in and out with your eyes sealed shut. His eyes then pulled him into a slumber, one he didn’t even remember falling into.

After a few hours, he felt you shuffle a bit on the bed, shooting his eyes open and seeing you rub your eyes with your free hand, his hand still intertwined in your other one. 

“Y/n?” he spoke softly, your eyes redirecting to his face and a small smile creeping on yours.

“Hi,” you said groggily. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

Bucky sat up and shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby. I’m just glad you’re awake,” he reassured as he let go of your hand and moved his to rest on your cheek. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you joked in a tired voice. “How long have I been out?”

Bucky sighed, though he was glad you were feeling well enough to be playful. “Six days,” he answered. “You had a lot of injuries.”

You nodded slightly. “What about the mission?”

“Natasha and Tony took care of it,” he informed you. “They stayed behind while we evacuated to finish and found a copy of the file. Mission successful.”

You nodded once again, biting down on your bottom lip as you knew there was still unresolved tension between you and Bucky. He noticed it too, but he didn’t think it was the right time to talk about it. Not right after you woke up. 

_

A few days later, you had been discharged from the medical wing and had gone back to your room. You had told Bucky you wanted to go back to his, but he had insisted it’d be better for you to rest in yours. 

He stayed with you the first few days you were in recovery, though he didn’t sleep next to you. It hurt a bit, but you had at least felt comfort in knowing he was in the room with you. 

One morning, you had woken up and saw Bucky sleeping peacefully on the couch chair in the corner of your room, knowing he had finally gotten rest after a few days. You stayed watching him and he met your eyes immediately when you woke up.

“Hey,” he said in the raspy morning voice you knew all too well. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you said as you sat up a bit in bed, to which Bucky moved to your side to help you do.

“Don’t exert yourself too much, Y/n,” he warned in a light tone. “You’re still recovering and I don’t want you to prolong y—”

“Buck, I’m okay, I promise,” you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes. His normal, cerulean eyes were a bit more clouded. They looked more gray in the dim lighting of your room, but you could also make out the sting of sadness in them. 

The longer he looked in your eyes, the more tears formed in his. “I could have lost you,” he said with a crack in his voice. “I almost lost you without making things right with you. I’m never gonna forgive myself for that.”

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, Bucky—”

“No,” he cut you off this time. “I can’t wait any longer, Y/n. It’s eating me alive and I want to make things right with you. I need to make things right with you. Everything that went wrong on that mission only made everything worse. You could have died while being on bad terms with me and I’m never, never, going to let that happen again. Do you understand me?”

You nodded slightly, tears quickly glossing your eyes as well while a tear slid past Bucky’s. He cupped your face in his hands, wiping the tears that fell down your cheeks with his thumbs as you started to play with your fingers in your lap.

“Do you think that I care about anything in this world but you?” he said, a noticeable shake in his voice while he didn’t break eye contact with you. “There is nothing that compares to you in my world. Nothing. When I heard that explosion and Tony say your name, it felt like my heart dropped. I don’t want to experience that again. Especially if I’m not with you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “So you mean—”

“I said what I said because I’m too scared not to be with you, Y/n. It’s wrong and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I felt you weren’t ready to be on your own. You’re more than ready and I was clouded by my own fears and patronized you when you didn’t need that. I can’t lose you, I can’t picture what the rest of my life would even look like without you in it. But my fears should never come in the way of your accomplishments that you deserve and earned, honey. Never. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry that it took everything that happened for me to say it to you.”

If the tears weren’t falling from your face before, they most definitely were now. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s torso and sobbed into his chest. He was crying too, but he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed small circles in your back to soothe you the way he always did.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs. “I didn’t want to fight with you, I just—”

“Shh,” Bucky comforted you. “It’s okay, baby, I know. I didn’t want to fight with you either, it’s on me.”

You pulled away slightly to look up at him once your sobs died down, sniffling a bit as he looked down at you with all the love and adoration he’s always had for you.

“Promise me we’ll never fight before a mission again,” you urged softly, and even though your tone was slightly playful, Bucky knew you were also half serious.

“I promise, baby,” he said, kissing your forehead twice. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

You nodded as he made his way around the bed and slid next to you, carefully wrapping his arms around you as you both laid down and enjoyed each other’s warmth again.

__________________________________

thank you so much for reading! i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading my first piece! 

[straykids-97]

Soft?

“Soft? I’m too soft?”

Warnings: Reader confides in Felix, relationship woes, mentions of drinking and parties, soft!dom Chan, sub!reader, dirty texting, slight exhibitionism, pet names (goddess, baby etc.), unprotected sex, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING

Word Count: 5.2k

AN: This was only read through once, so please bear with me. It probably has errors and as I am half awake, the end seems a little rushed to me. Anyway, enjoy you filthy sluts :) I also don't put a warning for minors on my stuff bc I feel like it's obvious that minors should not be reading this stuff, but I cannot do anything about that... HOWEVER I am for this one. Reader's discretion is advised and encouraged. There are mature themes in this fic so please, do not read if you a triggered by rough things!

You shift and lay your chin on your forearm as you stare out the window covered in raindrops. You heave a sigh as you watch traffic drive past, waiting for your dear friend Felix to come back with his drink. The Cafe wasn’t very full, but then again, it was the afternoon, and it was normally full in the morning or early evening. You two always hung out at the Cafe- Felix always joked that this was the only place where he could talk to you without one of his bandmates interrupting or eavesdropping. He could tell that something was weighing on you heavily, so he decided to take you to the one place that could be just for the two of you. 

“Ah,” he announces his arrival with a satisfied sigh, sliding into the booth in front of you. You sit up slightly, adjusting your posture when he settles. “This is the best place for an americano.” He snorts and takes a sip, “Are you sure you don’t want a coffee?” You shake your head, “Felix, you know I hate coffee.” He smiles, nodding his head, “Yeah. I know, but I thought I would try one more time.” Felix offers you a soft, lopsided smile as he leans forward, “Are you gonna come clean, or am I gonna have to torture you?” You grin at him, waving your hand at him. “No.” You lament, leaning back in the booth seat. “You don’t have to go to that length. I’ll just come clean.” He offers you a teasing smile, “Good, cuz I sorta forgot them at home.” He shrugs, “I thought you would come clean anyway…” He trails off for a moment, before dropping the question, “So… What’s wrong with you? You’ve been kinda acting-” 

“Distant?” You give him a sheepish smile before shrugging one of your shoulders. “Yeah, I know… I just… I don’t know if Chris… Likes me… Ya know?” You pick at your fingernail polish, fidgeting to try and distract you from the lump in your throat. Felix didn’t speak for a while, probably unsure of what to say. Of course, Chris liked you- he loved you. Worshiped the ground you walked on. Felix was more confused as to the why, more than anything. 

He cleared his throat, “Well… What makes you say that?” He shifts awkwardly in his seat, unsure of how to navigate this very unfamiliar territory. Chris was like the brother he never had, and you the sister he always wanted, so the fact that you were presenting a possible relationship problem, something he didn’t have much knowledge in, was something he didn’t know if he could steer accurately. 

“Well, for starters, he’s super against PDA, ya know. And I understand that-” you hold your hand up in defense before going on, “I do. He doesn’t want someone to capture a picture of me before the company is ready for us to come out as a couple officially and all that.” You sigh, “But… He just acts…” You puff out your cheeks, unsure of how to explain your frustrations to Felix. “So… Nice?” Felix frowns at your words, “Nice? Isn’t that a good thing?” You sigh, holding your head in your hands, feeling your skin turning bright red. “Oh my goodness, I don’t even know how to explain this to you- I shouldn’t. It feels like I’m confessing a filthy sin to a pure nun.” He laughs at your analogy, “What are you talking about? Y/n, I’m your friend. I knew you before Chris, if anything, you owe me an explanation for him making you feel this way. Cuz I’ll talk to him if I have to-” Your head snaps up and Felix stops talking when he sees your beat red face. His mouth parted slightly, “Y/n, what- why are you so red?” He chuckled at your face and reached across the table to pinch your cheek teasingly. You bat his hand away, “He doesn’t like… Ask for anything… I feel like if I initiate it… It’ll feel like I’m begging or something…” You trail off and it suddenly hits Felix like a tsunami, “You haven’t had sex yet?” His voice drops to barely a whisper. Your face turns even redder, “Felix!” You hiss at him, “Lower your voice!” He tosses a quick look over his shoulder, “You and I both know, the barista should be retired right now. We’re lucky if he wore his hearing aid’s today.” You slap his forearm, “Lee Felix!” He beamed at you, “What? I had to repeat my order a million times.” He rolled his dark orbs before leaning back into the conversation, “How have you guys gone almost a year and not fucked?” You want to cover your ears but you can’t. This was the conversation you had planned to have anyway, but you just weren’t mentally prepared to hear someone so sweet and kind like Felix talk like that. 

“Well, you guys were gone for the tour, and then you had to travel to promote the album so Chris and I spent the beginning of our relationship over the phone.” Felix bobbed his head, “Yeah… But that leaves like, five months unaccounted for.” You sigh, “Yeah… I know… I figured, ya know, the distance and time spent away would spark something…” Felix has completely forgotten about his coffee and is utterly consumed by this new information. “But, he just acts so sweet, like usual, so kind and caring… The second I want to do something, then he’s on it. No dragging his feet, offering to do things like going on dates and stuff but…” 

“He’s leaving you hanging?” You groan, “Sorta? I hate to be like, ‘All this stuff is great but when do we start banging?’ Cuz then I feel like that’s all I see him as and I don’t ya know? I feel like if he wants to, he’d tell me or try to ya know, at least grope me.” You whisper the word like God would come down to smite you if anyone heard it. Felix looks perplexed, that much was clear by the look of confusion on his face. “What?” Felix does another scope of the Cafe before leaning to speak, “Are we talking about the same Christopher Bang?” I snort, “Of course we are-”

“That man is always…” He raises his eyebrows, suggesting something. “Frustrated?” You snort at him trying to be coy, “Yeah, sure you can say that… Maybe you’re the reason it seems to be worse these days.” He grabs his coffee, taking a few sips before going on. “He doesn’t even try to pat your bum?” You blush slightly, “No.” You shake your head and peek over your shoulder at the middle-aged man who is staring at his computer very intently, a pair of headphones humming with the beat of a tune you didn’t know. 

“He just acts so… cautious. Like I’m a piece of paper or glass he doesn’t want to break.” Felix bobs his head. “Have you tried to ya know-” 

“Yes!” You hiss, your cheeks burning red. Felix blushes slightly at your frustration, the conversation you two were having wasn’t one to be talked over coffee in a cafe either. “Ok… Well, why don’t you talk to him?” You groan, holding your head in your hands, “And make him feel ashamed? No thanks, I’d rather dig myself a whole and cover up for eternity.”  You huff, “I’m hoping that maybe he brings it up.” You watch Felix shrug, “If he doesn’t, we’ll be having this conversation again next time.” 

***

The black off-the-shoulder dress you chose to wear tonight hugged your curves just right. It exposed just enough but covered equally just as much. The small diamond necklace on your neck was a gift from Chris, a random one, which you were used to. But, since you were too nervous to wear it every day like he wanted you to, you decided to wear it for the occasion. They were celebrating a very big award win with staff and friends. Chris guides you through the throng of people to an area designated for the boys and close friends. Chris pauses slightly, his fingertips on your elbow, “Are you alright? I know how you feel about crowds.” His sweetness never seems to melt you, even now. You smile up at him and you can feel heat crawl up the back of your neck, your heart squeezing in your chest. “Yes. I’m ok. This was part of the deal, remember?” He smiles down at you, giving you one of those earth-shattering, blindingly sweet smiles of his that he’s known for. “And what would that be?” He asks, pulling you in by the waist. You feel your pulse throb in your veins as a small gasp escapes your lips and you bounce off his chest. Chris didn’t do PDA. “Uh- um, the parties, the cameras, all that stuff.” You wave your hand and lightly tap his chest, unsure of what to do with your hands. He smiles at you, “All that stuff?” He leans in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “What would I be without you?” He murmured, making you giggle and pull away slightly, “Perfectly fine.” You remind him, causing him to roll his eyes, “Fine. But dull.” He admits with a shrug, pulling away and offering his palm to you as you walk toward where Felix and the boys are sitting playing what looks like a card game with jax and random little balls. 

You settle beside Minho, who gives you a playful nudge. Chris sits by Felix and Hyunjin, who look to be in a heated debate about something, which is why you decided to sit by Minho. Seungmin, Minho, Changbin, and I.N., were all in the midst of the game when you settled into the couch. You watch them for a while, trying to follow the game but getting confused by all the complicated rules that it has. You sigh and lean back into the couch, tossing a look to see that Hyunjin had left to sit by Changbin, watching the game as well. Felix and Chris seemed to be deep in conversation, but Chris’s eyes were on you. You watch as the muscle in his jaw flexes for a millisecond, and you know what that means, he is annoyed by something. You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, typing a message to him really quickly. 

Are you ok?

You know he gets the message, but he ignores it. Instead, he turned his attention back to Felix who looked as if he may have had one too many to drink. You take a breath in and it catches in your throat when you realize that Felix gets a little too chatty when he gets drunk. And that it had been almost two weeks since you had talked to him about the lack of sex in your relationship. Panic sets in as you slowly turn your face to Felix and Chris. Felix was still talking, sipping on water now; Chris probably made him start drinking water out of fear of what else he would say. You watch as Felix leans forward to eat what looks like pretzels, and Chris takes that moment to pull his phone out of his slacks to see what you have sent him. You watch with mixed emotions as Chris’s jaw flexes and unflexes, his eyes and face illuminated by the darkened screen of his phone. You knew that Chris didn’t like having his phone out while at a function but he couldn’t seem to help himself this time. You watch as his fingers dance across the screen and you immediately stare at your screen, waiting for his reply. Your heart nearly falls out of your colon when it does. 

Felix has loose lips when he consumes alcohol… Care to share?

As soon as you look back up to him, you pray that the couch will open up and swallow you whole. Anything to escape the way that Chris glares at you. You do a double take, unsure if you should look at your phone or at Chris. Finally, your brain synapses start working once again enough for you to form a reply. 

What did he tell you?

He doesn’t offer you the same courtesy of delaying a reply. And you watch with bated breath as he messages you back so fast that it might as well have been said. 

What do you think he told me, goddess? 

Your breath almost comes out in a squeal. Chris called you Goddess when he was teasing you once. A name that he has mentioned in passing a few times because of the topic of him heckling you about being a muse to him. You told him it made you feel like you were in a Greek story about heroes and villains. So then came the nickname Goddess, because in his words, “Goddess are cooler than muses.” 

You try not to shake as you stare at your phone, trying to keep your mouth closed but failing as your eyes gawk at the screen. Before your brain can form another coherent thought, he sends another reply. 

Do you think I’m too soft?

You feel your soul leave your body, and heat rushes through your body. But not the embarrassed kind. You squeeze your legs together and toss a quick glance around to the boys who were all oblivious to what was going on between you and Chris only a few feet away. 

As your eyes land on Changbin you are talking a little too loud, and slurring so much that he is about to start drooling if he doesn’t slow down. Han hands him a tissue from beside Minho, “Rapper down!” You can’t help but smile as Changbin snags the tissue from Han, fluttering it in the wind. None of the boys waste a second to mimic a damsel in distress, I.N. holds his cheek, fluttering his eyes, “Oh no, I’m drooling! Someone save me!” Changbin puffs out his chest and starts to say something, but the buzzing of your phone causes you to become distracted by the boys teasing Changbin. 

Eyes on me baby. I’m not done talking to you. 

Your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. What has gotten into him? He never talks to you like this. Not even when you guys get into a heated makeout session. You slowly raise your gaze back to Chris, who smirks at you. Smirks. Fucking smirks. You watch as his eyes lower to his screen for just a moment to type out another reply. 

I’ll show you what you’ve been missing then, baby.

You gulp, your stomach doing somersaults as you watch him shift slightly. Chris swipes his dark beverage off the table in front of him, swirling it a few times before looking at you over the rim. His forefinger rubs the rim, and you can’t help but think that he’s trying to work you up. It was working. A heated pulse thrums through your body to your core, causing you to cross your legs for friction. You feel a faint sheen of sweat start to form, and the room seems a little too loud and the people all seem to disappear as he focuses his dark irises back on your face. You watch as he swipes his tongue over this bottom lip before taking a swig of his dark alcohol. With one hand, he types a reply. 

Take your panties off. Bring them to me. 

You blink a few times; rereading those two sentences over and over again. Your brain didn’t seem to process what it was reading. That or it was short-circuiting. Either way, your brain was not functioning properly. You glance around, before typing a quick reply. 

Here? With everyone around? 

You glance up to see Chris looking down at his phone. His forefinger was playing with his bottom lip, the rest of his fingers holding the small bourbon glass as he messages you back. The phone vibrates and your eyes read the message before your brain can process what it's reading. Once it sets in, you swear you’re about to faint. Ever since you met Chris all those months ago, nothing could have prepared you for this moment. To read the text that flickered across your screen… 

You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself. 

You sit there, dumbfounded and you aren’t sure what to do. You were surrounded by a mixture of friends and strangers, and what he was demanding of you… Was something straight of an E.L. James novel. 

You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself. 

You huff out a sigh, flopping back onto the couch. How the hell were you going to somehow, manage to shimmy out of your panties in front of 7 other men? They might be drinking and some close to drunk, but they weren’t stupid. They’d know what you were doing by the time your dark silk panties hit your knees. You glance at the phone in your palm, shaking your head. You don’t have to do this- Chris was just drinking and feeling frisky. But, you can’t help but bite your lip slightly at the thought of what you would do if you somehow managed to get them off. What would you do once they were off? Your face pales and you turn to look at Chris a few feet away. 

Chris’s dark eyes seemed to be ignited with something you hadn’t seen in them before. 

Power. Authority. Desire. Dominance. 

You can’t conceal the shudder that runs down your spine as he tilts his chin up at you, gesturing to your phone with his eyes. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t even realize that he had messaged you again. 

You have five minutes to have them in the palm of my hand.

Your eyes bulge and you choke slightly on your spit. Five minutes? Only Five minutes? It was going to take at least that to get them passed your hips. Your brain was kicking into high gear for the first time since you had sat down, “Fuck.” You hiss to yourself. Time was ticking, and you had to get moving because you didn’t want to find out what was going to happen if you didn’t do as he said. You put your phone into your purse and begin to shift your silk panties, which were hard to feel through your dress, down to your thighs. It was surprisingly easier than expected but now came that part that you were unsure of. 

How to get them over your bare thighs, knees, and to your ankles without anyone noticing. You take a brief look around, looking twice, three times before taking a deep breath and shoving your dark silk panties to your ankles and swiping them off your ankles. You managed to get them into a wad in your left fist before Minho leaned over to see what you were doing. “Y/n-ssi, what’s wrong?” You giggle, “Oh, I think there’s a hair or something on my leg.” You have your empty hand at him. “I think I got it.” You watch as he smiles at you softly, “Ok.” He turns part way, before turning back, “On your leg?” Your face falls for a split second. He wasn’t as drunk as the others, and you didn’t calculate that. “Well, I’m not sure what it was. I honestly felt like a bug.” You come up with a lie on the spot, kicking yourself for not thinking that Minho hadn’t really drunk at all since you had arrived. He nods his head, “I hope not. I hate bugs.” You nod, “Me too…” You trail off, glancing over to Chris who looked amused by the interaction. You feel a blush creep up your neck when you see that he watched Minho catch you with your panties around your ankles. 

Damn him.

“I think I’m gonna go sit by Chan.” You smile and collect your bag before crossing over to the boys’s game, earning a few groans and slaps on the arm as you pass. You wave them all off and make your way to Chris, who sets his glass aside as you approach him. You almost, almost sneakily slide him into your panties. But instead, you stand there, knees almost touching his as he stares up at you expectingly. “Do you have something for me, Y/n?” He asks, his voice dripping with false sweetness. As if this man wasn’t trying to make you melt from the inside out. You clasp your hands in front of you, “I might…” you trail off, meeting his gaze. You watch as he raises a single arched eyebrow and you remind yourself to find out who did his makeup because damn them. 

It takes everything in your every molecule to not shift under his stare. But still, he waits. After a few moments, he picks up on what you’re meaning and slowly raises his hand to you, palm up. It was high enough for the boys to see if they were watching close enough, for anyone who was looking your way to see that you were putting something in his hand. It didn’t take much of a rocket scientist to put two and two together and figure out what was happening. 

You stretch out your hand and put your black satin panties in his large hand before sinking to the seat next to him. 

“Happy?” You grumble, eyes on the boys who were all too focused on the second round of their game. “Elated.” He replied back, crossing his leg and spreading out your panties on his thigh. You gasp, “Chris-” You start to hiss but stop when you realize his OCD ass was really folding your panties in a small square. You watch as he replaces his breast pocket handkerchief with your panties. He smoothes a hand over his chest as he twists his body to you, dangling his handkerchief by your face, “I think we’ll be needing this.” You frown at his words, “Why?” 

He grins, face falling for a moment as he wads it up in his fist. What was he about to do- “Are you ok, y/n?” He puts a hand on your forearm. “Is it getting too loud?” You don’t have to look at the boys to know that they’re all watching you now. The boys all knew what crowds did to your tiny little introverted soul. “Y/n? Are you ok?” Felix finally started to sober up a little enough to not be slurring. You gulp, shrugging, “It’s getting a little warm.” You admit, truthfully. “I think I might be getting a headache.” 

“I’ll take you outside, yeah? Maybe some quiet and fresh air would help?” You ruefully nod. Chris helps you to your feet like the dutiful boyfriend he is, holding your hand as he guides you skillfully outside of the small gathering. You started to shiver and you weren’t sure if it was excitement or what it was really but adrenaline was coursing through your veins regardless. 

You were panting as Chris pulled you into a small alcove right outside the party. It was dark and hidden and no one would see either of you unless they got within a few feet of you. Chris pushed you flat against the wall, his breath on your face as you stared up at him with wide eyes, “Too soft?” He growled, wrapping a hand around your jaw. “Baby, I am greedy when it comes to you.” His voice is so low that it feels like it’s rattling your soul. “I want everything you give me- I want more than you give me.” His lips crush on yours. It wasn’t the usual sweet kiss, no. This was hot, heavy and fuck it felt amazing. You mewl and wrap your arms around his shoulders as you feel his hands grip your thighs. He pauses only for a moment, pulling that light-colored handkerchief out that was in his pocket. 

“If this come back wet,” he leans in, his tongue dancing on the bottom of your lip, “then we’re leaving.” Your breathing was ragged and your mind was already fuzzy. “Holy shit-” You gasp, gripping his forearm as he chuckled. It sounded like thick molasses. 

This Chris was someone you had never met before. And fuck, no wonder he kept him hidden. If he was out running around you probably wouldn’t be walking or a functioning member of society. 

You feel his fingers delve into your folds and a heavy shudder rips through your body. “Oh my god-” You hiccup, eyes rolling back into your head as Chris rubs soft, quick circles around your clit. He doesn’t go any further, the teasing bastard. And to no one's shock, when he stepped back into the hallway, the fingertips that were covered by the fabric were darkened by your slick. You gulp as his eyes slowly raise to you, “I suppose we have our answer then.” 

***

Chris didn’t even wait for you to get through the doorway of your apartment before his hands were on you. He didn’t move to take your clothes off, no. He just grabbed, groped, ripped at your body like a hungry man who was so starved of food that he was threatening to eat you. You wrap your hands in his locks as he picks you up by the waist, shuffling you back to the hallway, stumbling slightly. You squeal and he laughs into your lips as he digs his fingertips into your thigh skin, “Whoops.” 

He manages to get you both into your room before he puts you back on your feet. You blink up at him to see his puffy lips even more swollen from kissing so hard that your teeth were gnashing together. Chris’s white dress shirt was rumbled, but otherwise intact. He took off his jacket in the car and left it there. He wasn’t really interested in it currently. “Don’t move.” He ordered. His tone was low, full of authority. You stand there as still as a statue as he shifts to walk around you in a slow circle. 

Chris stands directly behind you, “I want you to take your dress off for me.” You inhale sharply. “Like… Strip?” You hear him chuckle before you feel his hand dance up your shoulder to your throat, “Yes.” He lightly squeezes your throat before letting you go. You turn to look over your shoulder to Chris who was moving to sit on the shoe ottoman at the foot of your bed, legs spread as he settled. You moan softly to yourself and turn to look at him. 

You slowly reach to your shoulders, tugging at the fabric of your dress. You pause for only a moment when it dawns on you that you’ve never been bare in front of Chris before. “Don’t worry goddess.” He laughs softly, “I’ve been dreaming of this day ever since we went to the park and you wore a skirt.” That was before their tour. 

“You’ve been holding off that long?” You ask, almost dropping your hands. “Baby, I don’t like to be gentle all the time… I wasn’t sure if that was what you liked, so I was testing the waters gently. I don’t want to make you do something that you don’t want.” You gulp, figuring that was a conversation for another time. 

The burning in your gut and between your thighs was what was most important right now. 

You take a deep breath and push the fabric down to your waist, exposing your bare chest to Chris before shimming the fabric the rest of the way off, leaving you completely bare to him. You slowly raise your gaze to him to find that he was staring at you so hard that you thought perhaps he was trying to catch you on fire. You almost reach down to put the dress back on but the noise Chris made almost made you fold. 

He made a strange mix of a moan and a feral growl. “Jesus fucking christ.” He groans, “Come here.” He almost barks. You don’t wait and he has you pulled into his lap. It takes no time for him to, quite literally, rip the buttons off his shirt and pants to get him bare as well. 

“I would say we should do foreplay, but you’re wet enough for the entire night.” He teases, his teeth clamping down on your bottom lip. You groan, “Chris-” you start to complain but stop as you feel his cock at your entrance. You both moan, and he pants raggedly, obviously struggling. “Baby- I’m trying so hard-” 

“I’m not glass.” You snap, digging your nails into his biceps, “Quit being a pussy and just-” Before you can get the rest out he thrust into you so hard that it knocks the wind out of you. He wastes no time wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing it. “Do not say things that you can’t take back, y/n.” The way he spoke made a shudder rip through your body so violently that you thought it would tear you apart. 

Chris pulls out ever so slowly and then drives back into you, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths. This was so good- fuck, better than you ever could have expected. 

Just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better, his free hand adjusts the angle of your hips and he starts to fuck you hard and fast. You both become a mixture of animalistic grunts, moans, and whimpers as he fucks you so thoroughly that you debated thanking Felix in the morning. 

You felt yourself spiraling toward a third orgasm as Chris moaned, “Fuck-baby- one more, please.” He whimpers, letting go of your throat and holding your hip along with the other hand. You could come at the sight of him whimpering for you, fucked out of his mind, drunk on you, and holding your hips as he fucks you like he hates you. Your eyes roll as your back arches off the mattress, your toes curling and your hands flying down to grip his wrists. “Chirs!” You nearly scream as he slams into you a few more times before frantically pushing away from you, coming all over your thighs and lower stomach. 

He sits there, staring at his mess and panting for a moment, before slumping into your body. “Why did I wait?” He scoffed, talking mostly to himself. “Felix and I were talking about that very same thing.” You snort sleepily as you run your fingers down his clammy spine. He sighs, “No- I mean, why didn’t I just say something? I could have been easing you into this so you won’t be so sore in the morning-” 

“If I’m sore,” you interrupt, pulling his face up to look into his eyes. “That just means that you did a good job.” He grins at you sleepily, holding himself up just enough to give you a few sweet, passionate kisses before pushing away, so that his chain necklace dangled just above your chin, “I would say let’s go have a shower. But, I’m tired. You’re tired. The shower isn’t going anywhere. And if I have my way, taking a shower would just be wasting water because we’ll need it again.” He winks, before flopping down beside you and pulling you into his side. 

Perhaps, talking to Felix was a good thing. 

Now, if only you could get it into Felix’s little thought process about the choking part…

[mangomonk]

i caught myself

↳ summary: remus goes to a coffee shop for the first time ↳ content: fluff, oblivious idiots x idiots, coffee shop au, rock band!muggle ↳ a/n: i wanted to write something fun and i've been listening to too much of my punk rock playlists from when i was 15. feel very free to listen to "i caught myself" by paramore (or any paramore song) while reading..! i love portrayals of remus as an earnest loser where the reader/sirius is ridiculously infatuated with his endearingly awkward ways. in other news, i've given up on using 'y/n,' it killed me every time i had to type it so i just chose a random name, feel free to make a mental edit to 'y/n' if you're more comf with that.

It's rush hour when she first sees him. She almost doesn't — it's just her and her coworker today and her eyes are only moving from the cash register's buttons to each cup as she hastily scrawls names and orders onto the plastic.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" She asks half-distractedly as she finishes writing Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino before sliding it over to her coworker with an apologetic look. Frappes are the worse to make, and it doesn't help that the line is nearly to the door now. She almost doesn't look up but the silence to her question is a little too long, so Winnie darts a quick look up, hoping to see no one standing there.

What she's not expecting to see is a man with wide brown eyes and equally brown hair squinting at the menu above her head. Winnie thinks he's the most good-looking man she's ever seen. As she tries to recap the Sharpie, she stabs her own hand. "Shit," she mutters automatically.

"Sorry?" The ridiculously good-looking man asks politely, his gaze flickering from the menu to her. His eyes are the same color as caramelized sugar and Winnie thinks he looks just as sweet as she watches him pull at the frayed collar of his knitted jumper.

"Nothing, nothing," Winnie says with a dismissive hand as she puts on her best customer-service-smile. "What can I get you today?"

His brows furrow as he turns his gaze back to the menu. "What—" he begins, drawing out the word slowly. Winnie takes his hesitation to steal another appreciative glance at him — he's tall, his frame somewhere between lean and lanky, though it's hidden by a jumper that's clearly been knitted to be a few sizes too large for extra comfort. "—would you recommend?"

"Well, what do you normally like?" Winnie asks, casting a glance behind him. As much as she'd love to talk to this cute stranger for the rest of her shift, the line has started to wrap around.

The man rakes a hand through his hair, tousling already-tousled waves of brown. He looks sheepish and a little panicked. "I've never really had coffee before," he admits. A little strange, but Winnie's not one to judge, especially when he's looking at her with deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

"How about I get you my favorite drink then?" She suggests, already reaching for the sharpie and another cup. It's a trick she's learned from working in the coffee shop for the past few months — customers are less likely to be unhappy with their surprise drinks if they think it's your favorite drink.

The man nods, his shoulders sagging with apparent relief. Matcha latte, she scribbles before looking up at him again. "Can I get a name?"

"My name?" He repeats, looking dumbfounded as if she had just asked for his number.

She lifts the cup and shakes it a little to draw his attention to it. "For your order."

"Remus," he says, straightening. He clears his throat. "Remus Lupin."

"Got it," she says as she writes it down. Remus Lupin. She's never had a customer give her a full name before, but Winnie doesn't have time to ponder it as she slides the cup to her coworker. "That'll be $4.50."

He fishes out a $10 and when she tries to hand back the change, he shakes his head with a soft, polite smile.

"Come again," she calls after him, pleased, before turning back to the monstrous line that had managed to form behind him. "I can help the next customer."

— — — — —

The next time she sees him, it's just her behind the counter. Since the rush died down an hour earlier, she's been leaning over the counter squinting at an eight count that she can't quite get right. When the door jingles, Winnie puts down her pencil and moves back behind the register.

"Hi! What can I get for you today?" She asks before she properly looks up. It's the fluffy-haired man from last week. Today he's wearing a scarlet and gold jumper bunched at his wrists and slacks the same brown as his eyes and hair. She doesn't recognize the lion emblem embroidered on his chest — it doesn't match any of the mascots of the nearby universities. When he unwraps his scarf, she can see that his cheeks are flushed red from the cold. It's a good look on him. "Cold outside?"

"Getting there," he says with a soft sigh.

"I can't wait," she says conversationally. "I love autumn."

"Hm," he says, ending the conversation rather abruptly.

Winnie tries not to grimace at the awkward silence as she pulls out her sharpie from the pocket of her apron. "So, what can I get for you today?" When he hesitates for a moment too long, his gaze darting back up to the menu behind her, Winnie tries for conversation again. "How was the matcha latte last time?"

Remus hesitates, his gaze darting to her. "It was very green."

The response is so unexpected that Winnie barely bites back a bark of a laugh before she catches herself. She wasn't a gifted conversationalist, but Remus was making her seem like a total extrovert. "It was," she agrees, smiling now. Up close, she can see shadows below his big eyes. Maybe he needed an espresso? Or less coffee and more sleep. "I'm guessing it wasn't to your taste? I'll let you order today—"

Remus seems to catch himself because he straightens hurriedly. "No, I'll have a matcha latte," he says firmly, already fishing out five dollar bill.

Winnie punches the numbers into the cash register and nods him along, but he hesitates, looking at her expectantly. "Don't you need my name?"

"Not unless it's changed from Remus Lupin," Winnie chirps cheerfully, biting back a smile as he blinks at her rapidly. "Has it?"

"No," he says, clearing his throat. "It's still Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up, Remus Lupin," Winnie says with a mini salute as she turns to start making the drink.

After he leaves, she notices a strange looking coin in the tip jar that hadn't been there before. When she squints at it, she can make out the carved word, Sickle. With raised brows, Winnie slips the strange coin into the pocket of her jeans.

— — — — —

The next time she sees Remus Lupin, he's wearing a long coat over a sweater vest. Winnie thinks he looks like a cute little professor.

"Hi, how's it going—" she's beginning to say just as Remus says choppily, "It's cold outside. Now."

They both blink at each other for a moment before Winnie grins a little, inwardly pleased that he remembered their last conversation. "Yeah?" She turns to squint critically out the window. "On a day like this, I'd kill to be in bed with a warm cup of tea."

Remus nods thoughtfully before pausing. "Not matcha?"

"Matcha strikes me more as a spring-summer drink," she muses.

He nods again, eyes darting to the menu above her head. Winnie is used to this now, so she waits patiently for his order. To her surprise, he looks at her again tentatively, his brown eyes startling bright. It feels as though she's been sucker punched.

"I'm not much of an autumn or winter person," he says. It takes her a moment to realize that he was still referencing their previous conversation. "The cold gets to my joints," he adds, looking a little sheepish.

"Ah," she says dumbly, nodding, before blurting, "Well, did you know that matcha has antioxidant and anti-inflammatory effects?"

Remus blinks at her as though she's clubbed him over the head. "Anti-ox-i-dant," he repeats slowly, as if saying the word for the first time.

Winnie inwardly grimaces. Why was she still talking about matcha? She had been so caught off guard that he was continuing the conversation and that his eyes were stupidly pretty that she had fumbled a little. "Er, so what can I get for you?"

"A cup of matcha then," Remus says, fishing a five dollar bill from his pockets. "For it's anti-ox-i-dant effects."

Winnie's cheeks burn a little as she waves him off. "It's on the house today," she says.

Remus looks surprised as he hesitates. "No, I can pay—"

"No, no, it's on the house," Winnie says firmly, thinking inwardly, For my piss poor attempt at conversation. Before he can insist, she takes her Sharpie and writes Matcha latte, even though it's only her behind the counter today. "Name?" She asks, half-teasing, half-hoping to distract him from trying to pay.

He blinks, looking startled. "Remus Lupin," he answers automatically, straightening.

"Just making sure it hasn't changed," she hums, smiling a little as she gets started on the latte.

To her surprise, Remus laughs, the sound low and rich and warm. "It hasn't yet," he says, glancing down at her name tag for a moment before looking back up at her, his brown eyes wide and bright as he drops the ten dollar bill into the tip jar. "Thank you, Winnie."

Winnie is too stunned by his laugh to complain.

— — — — —

Remus starts to come by more frequently. She can never quite figure out his schedule — it's sporadic, sometimes during rush hour where they can only exchange a few words, but mostly when the coffee shop is empty. She's grown so accustomed — and perhaps, has quickly begun to look forward — to seeing him that she can't help but look up hopefully when someone comes in.

Their conversations at the counter gradually grow less halting. She makes a point to always ask his name and Remus dutifully plays along each time, his lips twitching each time he gives her his name.

"You're always working on music," he observes one day. He must have come in without her realizing because when she looks up, she finds Remus nodding down at her paper.

"I am," she agrees mournfully. "I study music at the local university," she tells him, straightening her apron.

"That suits you," he says with the soft smile that she's grown terribly fond of.

Pleasure warms her chest as she tries not to beam at him. Though their conversations are mostly quiet and simple, it feels as though she's always trying not to smile a full-teeth smile at him.

She learns that he's only recently graduated from some sort of private boarding school. From his vague references, it sounded like one of those preparatory schools for gifted students. It doesn't strike her as much of a surprise — from his responses, Winnie can get a sense for how knowledgeable and bright he is, though to be fair, he always seems to bring a new book in when he visits. It might also explain how awkward and closed off Remus is, Winnie decides — she thinks public schools build thick skin. Winnie doesn't really mind the occasionally halting conversations though — Remus, for his credit, is a wonderful listener and always asks her questions when she talks about her band. And something about the attentive way Remus looks at her makes her feel comfortable about talking. She's almost worried that she talks too much — it's a welcome reprieve from the quiet slowness or the repetitive "Hi, how are you?'s" of the coffee shop.

"Sorry," she says one day when she brings him his drink. "I realize that I talk your ear off whenever you're here and I'm sure you've got things to do, books to read."

Remus shakes his head, sending his fluffy brown hair falling against his brow. It's gotten longer since the first time she's met him, the ends beginning to curl down the nape of his neck and around his ears. It's a good look on him, though admittedly, Winnie finds herself thinking that whenever he comes in.

"It's no problem," Remus says easily. Winnie nods, about to return to the counter when he clears his throat. "I... enjoy your company," he says with an impossibly tiny smile. At the sight of it, Winnie wants to fall to the floor, but she hasn't mopped it yet, so she opts to stand perfectly still instead. "If you ever feel inclined to take a break to chat, the chair is always open."

Some days when the shop isn't too busy, she takes him on his offer to sit and chat. Some days their conversations are long and winding, about nothing in particular, and on some days — mostly the days where he looks strangely exhausted — they both sit in a comfortable silence with Remus reading his books and Winnie laboring over her music.

One day when she's put all her focus on composing, Winnie nearly jumps out of her skin when Remus speaks up. "New song?"

Winnie looks up from her sheets at his question. A little thrill runs through her body when she sees that his book has been discarded to the side as he looks at her curiously. "Old song," she sighs. "I've been trying to finish these lyrics," she says, giving a frustrated glare to the paper. "I wanted to finish it in time for my band's next show, but I can't seem to get anywhere good with it."

Remus hums thoughtfully. "What's it about?"

"It's a love song," Winnie says before thinking. She darts a quick look at Remus as her ears burn, but fortunately, he's looking down at her lyrics thoughtfully. To be fair, she reasons with herself, she had started writing it before meeting Remus. "I've been stuck for ages now though."

"Hmm," Remus hums, leaning back in his chair to stretch his lithe limbs before letting his arms settle on his head. It's an effortlessly attractive motion — Winnie tries not to stare. "I'm sure you've tried already, but maybe you can draw inspiration from experience?"

Winnie clears her throat. "Oh, er, well, I actually don't really have..." She falters, feeling her cheeks burn. She's undeniably red now. "—experience in that realm," she finishes lamely.

"Ah," Remus makes a sound, his eyes widening a fraction as he re-rights himself to sit up straight in his chair. "Sorry, I just figured that you... That there'd be..." He stops himself, looking sheepish.

"That I what?" She presses, arching her brow to deflect from her reddening face.

"I just thought that you'd have experience in relationships," Remus coughs, his cheeks pink now. It's cute enough that it nearly distracts her from the mortifying conversation they're having.

"Ah, no," she says, swallowing. Then she adds hurriedly, darting a glance at him, "It's not that I don't want to date. It's just the type of guy I've attracted in the past has always been—" Winnie cuts off her rambling abruptly as Remus leans forward, brown eyes trained on hers.

"Has been what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she mumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face, grimacing. "You know, tattoos, eats cigs for breakfast. Maybe my nose ring gives the wrong impression," she lets out an embarrassed laugh, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole to stop her nonsensical babbling.

"I see," Remus says slowly in a tone that very much sounded like he didn't.

"What about you?" She blurts. Remus looks startled, so she shoulders onwards. It feels as though she has nothing left to lose, anyways. "I'm sure you were popular in school."

"Ah," he says, making a noise at the back of his throat. He rubs the nape of his neck, looking embarrassed as he looks down as his discarded book. She bets he wished he never stopped reading. "Not really," he says. "I was always busy with school and, er, other things, so I never..." He trails off, making a vague motion with his hands. "Yeah," he finishes lamely.

"That's a surprise," Winnie says, inwardly relieved that he wasn't dating anyone. "I'm sure you had plenty of admirers."

Remus smiles at her wryly, a flash of embarrassment flickering across his face. "My mates had plenty of admirers," he says, though not enviously. Winnie waits patiently for him to continue — one thing she's gathered from Remus was that he often deflected talking about himself through talking about his friends. Sirius, Peter, James, she had learned were their names. "Sirius, in fact, was plenty popular." He darts a strange look to her, his brows knitted together and contemplative. "You'd get along well with him, I reckon."

— — — — —

Another day, during rush hour. She can see him waiting in the long line stealing glances at her that sends her heart stuttering. When their gaze meets, she offers him an apologetic smile. Remus just returns her smile and shakes his head, sending his hair down across his brow.

When he finally reaches the counter, he doesn't leave her any time to say hello. "I have a mate," Remus starts, pausing long enough for her to raise a brow.

"A mate," she drawls, trying to decode the peculiar expression on his face. He's visibly hesitating, his brow furrowing and relaxing as if he's overcoming some inner dilemma. Winnie waits patiently.

"A mate," he says again, rubbing the base of his neck. "That wants to learn how to play the guitar."

"I see," Winnie says slowly, patiently.

"It's Sirius — my friend that I told you about before," he adds, not quite looking at her but not quite looking away either. "Obviously, you can say no, but I thought that since you played the guitar, that maybe you'd...?"

Winnie thinks about it for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. She felt a twinge of guilt briefly for having an ulterior motive, before reasoning with herself that she was about to give a free guitar lesson. "I can give him an intro lesson," she says. "But only because he's your good friend."

Remus relaxes, his face breaking into a smile that only makes her feel better about her choice. Lord, she thinks, her eyes tracking his dimple. She thinks if he smiled like that at her, she'd do anything. "Brilliant," he beams.

A customer behind him clears her throat meaningfully, jolting Winnie out of the conversation. She had entirely forgotten she was working.

"So, a matcha latte?" She asks loudly. When she looks back at him, she's expecting him to sport his normal embarrassed half-smile, but she's caught off guard to see him grinning at her roguishly. Remus never fails to surprise her.

Remus nods, clearly trying not to laugh as he fishes out a bill. Winnie goes through the motions of punching in the numbers and preparing the cup. "We can do it at my flat, I have an extra guitar," she tells him as she finishes his order.

Remus smiles and nods, turning to leave when a thought occurs to her. "Oh, and Remus?" She calls after him.

He whirls around, brows arched and eyes wide and attentive. "Hmm?"

"You'll be there right?"

"Me?" Remus blurts, looking startled.

Winnie bites back a sigh. As she expected. Doubling down, she nods. "I'm not going to let a random man into my flat," she tells him, brows arching. She tries to ignore the customer behind him huffing impatiently.

Remus hesitates. "Sirius isn't a random man." Despite herself, Winnie likes this stubborn side of him.

"I've never met him," she sniffs, jutting her chin out mulishly.

"So you'll feel better if there's two random men in your house?" He counters archly.

But Winnie had been expecting this. She gives him a smile. Remus blinks, looking startled as any semblance of resistance dissipates. "You're not just a random man," she says meaningfully.

Remus blinks again. Then he turns, clearing his throat as he begins wrapping his scarf around his neck. Winnie thinks she can see a pink flush crawl up his neck before he covers it with a scarf, but she might just be seeing what she wants to see. "I'll be there," Remus says gruffly with a stiff nod.

Winnie mimics his stiff nod and bites back a smile.

"Thank you for waiting," she says to the next customer with her best customer-service-smile.

Before Remus returns for his drink, Winnie makes a split-second decision to write her number on a napkin. The idea has her stomach doing a dangerous, giddy flip in her stomach, but she does it anyways and slips it under his drink waiting on the counter.

— — — — —

The next three weeks is grueling for two reasons. The first is that she doesn't see Remus once, despite taking extra shifts. The second is because she waits for a phone call that never comes.

She's never given her number to anyone before so she doesn't quite know what the socially acceptable amount of time is before getting a call, but after the first five days of radio silence and his absence in the coffee shop, she's sure that she's made a terrible mistake.

She feels embarrassed and a little foolish, wishing she hadn't gotten swept up in her hopes and his stupid brown eyes. She had been silly — she was just an overly-chatty local barista and he was just a nice customer with a nice smile and nice eyes and nice everything who put up with her rambling. It's a little mortifying to think back on, so Winnie tries not to think about it, though every time the door's bell jingles, she's caught in a vicious cycle of hope, disappointment, and embarrassment.

She reckons that if he did ever come back, she'd either just pretend as though she never gave him her number or she'd hide in the storage room. The latter option sounded the most appealing the longer she went without seeing him.

She's closing up the shop one night when the door bursts open, the bells jingling loudly. Startled, Winnie nearly drops the bucket she had just finished mopping with. Her heart drops to her stomach.

"Hi," Remus says, pink-cheeked and breathless. "Are you closed?"

Winnie stares at him wide-eyed. She has a brief irrational flash of self-consciousness as she holds a mop and bucket in her hands, her hair and makeup unruly after a long shift. "I—" Winnie bites the inside of her cheek, looking at the clock. She was just a local barista, and he was just a customer, she reminded herself, swallowing back the growing burn of embarrassment in her belly.

As if sensing her hesitation, Remus straightens, clearing his throat. "I mean, you don't have to make a drink or anything actually, I just—"

"I can make a quick drink before I close up," Winnie says hurriedly, not quite able to look him in the eyes as she moves behind the counter. Memories of her giving him her number is seared in memory and it takes all her willpower not to crumble in mortification in front of him.

"No, it's alright," Remus says hurriedly, following her. "I'll help you close up."

"No, go sit over there," Winnie says, her voice a little too clipped. Remus hesitates, floundering before stubbornly following her again. Too close. She whirls around on him, exasperated and embarrassed. Pride wounded. "Remus, I'll make your drink just—"

"Winnie," he cuts in softly, his eyes tracking over her face carefully, quick to pick up her emotions. Winnie diverts her eyes mulishly. "I didn't actually come for a drink today," he says in a patient tone that only amplifies her growing embarrassment that she hides under irritation.

"Then I'm guessing you came to mess with a small local business," she grumps unfairly to herself, stomping behind the counter to drop the mop and bucket into the storage closet. Remus follows her doggedly.

"No, that's not why either," he says, huffing out a good natured laugh. Winnie ignores how smooth and honeyed it sounds.

"Then why'd you come so late? Seeing as how you haven't come in the past three—" Winnie cuts herself off, mortified, before stalking past him to busy herself with wiping down the counter.

"That's exactly why I came," Remus says from behind her. "I haven't seen you in three weeks and I wanted to see how you were doing."

Winnie swallows, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. And then she continues to scrub the counter aggressively, refusing to turn around and be swayed by him, though she could feel her grievances begin to dissipate. "Well, you could have called," she grumbles pointedly.

"I, er, don't have a telephone."

"You don't have a telephone," Winnie repeats automatically, before turning to balk at him. He looks embarrassed, his fingers fidgeting compulsively with the sleeves of his lumpy cardigan. In disbelief, she squints at him suspiciously. "Listen, Remus, I really won't be offended if you weren't interested, so there's no need to make up an excuse—"

"It's not an excuse," Remus interjects, straightened. He looks visibly affronted, his lips twisting into a slight frown. "I don't have a telephone."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly, her voice small. And then she frowns, still skeptical. "How do you get into contact with your friends? Carrier pigeon?"

Remus lets out a huff of a laugh, mirth flickering in his brown eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

For some reason, she believes him, so she drops it. It's probably the warm fondness in his eyes that neutralizes her. "I see," she says finally, unsure about whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Remus seems to notice because he clears his throat. "I would have called you, really," he says. He's looking at her with those brown eyes again, big and earnest, and Winnie can't help but stare.

Flustered with the way he was looking at her, she turns to grab a tray of milk cartons. "I thought you were ghosting me," she grumbles. "I mean, I give you my number, you don't call and stop showing up. What's a girl supposed to think?"

Remus follows her, even closer now, close enough that she can smell his cologne — he smells good, she notes distractedly — and gently takes the tray of milk cartons from her hand, his big hands enclosing over hers briefly. Winnie nearly drops the whole tray. "You're not getting paid for that," she says, flustered and embarrassed and—

—and Remus is smiling at her with an impossibly patient and endeared smile, the sort that softens his eyes into little half-moons. Lord, Winnie thinks, her mind going unhelpfully blank as any memory of her mortification fades quickly.

"I would have called you," he says again, turning to look at her properly. He clears his throat, his eyes snagging on to hers intently. "I wanted to call you." He's holding the tray of cartons and she's trapped in the corner and the whole thing feels a little ridiculous, especially with the way her heart is stuttering under his gaze. He steps closer, his shoulders curving over slightly as he tries to match her height to appear less imposing. "I'm sorry for not giving you a heads up — I got swept away for work, but I'll let you know next time that happens."

"There's no need," she mumbles, flushing now. God, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. "It's not like we're..." The words die on her lips. She doesn't really know what she wants to say. Were they friends? She sure hoped so, but she could see how she was just a local barista and he was just a regular.

Remus ducks his head a little so that they're looking at each other properly again. They're close enough that Winnie can see his long lashes fluttering across his cheeks. She can see the splay of freckles across his tan skin. The thin shadow of a scar across the bridge of his nose. It's like she can't escape as her mind goes unhelpfully blank again. His eyes are warm and apologetic and earnest and Winnie feels like she's being seen right through. "How can I make it up to you?" He asks, looking entirely sincere.

Winnie's mouth — her heart — moves before her mind does. "My show," she blurts.

His brows furrow ever so slightly. "Your show?" He repeats, understandably not following because she was barely coherent.

"Yes," she says, straightening and doubling down. "I'm having a small show. With my band. This weekend. You should come." God, Winnie thinks, grimacing at how choppy her words were. Remus is looking at her with those distractingly pretty eyes again, so she steels herself, taking a steadying breath. "I mean, I'd love it if you came."

Remus nods, his lips twitching as if she hadn't just given an awful word-by-word monologue. "I'd love to."

— — — — —

The venue isn't terribly large, but even on stage staring into a dark crowd of faces, Winnie can spot Remus immediately. That's how she knew she was in trouble. Well, maybe she had already known she was in trouble the first time she heard Remus laugh properly.

She's had shows before, but this one feels different. It feels as though it's only her and Remus. So as Winnie plays her guitar and sings her songs, she gives in to the enamored thrill blossoming in her chest and pours it into her music. She hopes he can hear it.

The show passes by in a euphoric blur. All Winnie can really remember is Remus beaming at her from the crowd — and her beaming back — but she thinks it went well. Backstage, her bandmates are energetic and grinning widely, clasping each other on the back. "One of our best," their drummer proclaims, cheering.

Winnie tries to smile and listen, but the excitement of the show has started to turn into a bundle of growing nerves as she waits backstage with her bandmates.

"Waiting for someone today?" Doreen, their bassist, asks astutely as she starts moving some of their equipment.

"No," Winnie blurts unconvincingly, only gathering delighted hoots from the others.

"I knew this one felt different for a reason—" Doreen shouts gleefully, before falling silently abruptly, her eyes falling on someone behind Winnie. It takes all of her willpower to look casual and not whirl around. "Oh. He looks like he should be in a band," Doreen's voice drops into a hushed whisper. "Can we please add him? He can... play the triangle or something. He can be the face of our band. Our new mascot—"

At this, Winnie frowns and turns around. She wouldn't exactly say that Remus, with his soft jumpers and fluffy hair, looked like he'd be the face of a rock band—

"Hi," A voice, smooth and pitched low, says. "Winnie, right?"

Winnie stares at this stranger uncomprehendingly. He's strikingly handsome, his eyes the color of mercury and his hair the color of ink. He's all sharp angles and perfectly unruly curls and devilish smile, the type that Winnie has seen before. It comes with the crowd a rock band attracts, though this man in particular looks as though he was carved out of marble with his aquiline nose and high cheekbones.

Winnie blinks at him. "Yeah," she says uncertainly, scratching her cheek. "Er, do we know each other?"

"Winnie, this is Sirius," a familiar voice cuts in from behind the dark-haired man. Winnie straightens, her eyes snagging immediately on him as he steps out from behind Sirius.

Unlike Sirius's leather jacket and tattoos, Remus looks so painfully out of place in his sweater vest and slacks. She's impossibly endeared at the sight — in fact, all she can really do is stare dumbly at him. He's holding a little bouquet of yellow flowers. Her heart gives a dangerous squeeze.

Doreen clears her throat, jolting her out of her fixation. Winnie tears her eyes away from him to give his friend a polite smile as she shakes his hand. "Hi there." Distractedly, she turns back to look at Remus. "I didn't know you were going to bring a friend—"

"We love friends," Doreen says brightly. Winnie bites back a laugh at Doreen's lovesick scheming as her gaze snags on to Remus again. "Friends are always welcome here."

"I've heard loads about you," Sirius says smoothly, flashing her a charming smile. She swears she can hear Doreen faint next to her. "Remus, in fact, doesn't ever stop—"

Winnie's stomach does an Olympic-gymnastic-level flip as she watches Remus indiscreetly dig his elbow into Sirius's ribs. Sirius seems unbothered, but he stops and gives Winnie a smarmy grin.

"How was the show?" She asks, her gaze darting to Remus. It's like she can't stop looking at him.

"Brilliant," he blurts, beaming. "Absolutely brilliant. You were amazing," he says, eyes bright. "I mean, I knew you loved music, but seeing you in your element..." He stops abruptly, looking embarrassed. She isn't sure if it's the lighting, but his cheeks look pink. Or it's a reflection of how red her face has turned. Pleasure blooms in her chest so violently she feels a little dizzy.

"I'm glad you liked it," she manages, uncharacteristically bashful. She can feel her bandmates staring at her, slack-faced, and forces herself to ignore it. "I wasn't sure if it would be your type of music, but..."

"No, it was," Remus says hurriedly, turning to look at Sirius. "Right?"

Sirius nods, looking between the two of them with great interest. "Remus was practically on his knees—" Another jab into his ribs.

Winnie bites back a laugh, flushed and pleased, before nodding down at the bouquet in his hands. "Are those for me?" She asks, half-bluntly, half-hopefully.

Remus looks down at his hands as if he only just then remembered what he was holding. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he says. Winnie thinks she's dreaming for a moment, until Remus thrusts it into Sirius's hands. "They're from Sirius."

She blinks. Sirius blinks, an equally baffled expression on his face though he covers it up quickly. "Oh," the dark-haired man says slowly, his silver gaze flickering to his friend. "I guess—"

"—as a thank you for agreeing to the lesson," Remus cuts in hurriedly as Sirius hands it to her uncertainly.

Winnie takes the bouquet, bewildered now, but she plasters a polite smile on her face. "Er, it's no problem at all," she says, unsure about whether to say that to Sirius or Remus.

Sirius takes it in a stride though. "I would kill to play the guitar like you," he says, voice dripping with charisma. "How'd you—"

"You can try my bass, if you'd like," Doreen interrupts from behind her. Winnie's jaw goes a little slack — Doreen's the most protective with her bass — but her bandmate shoots her a meaningful look.

"Brilliant," Sirius says brightly. Winnie turns to watch Doreen in disbelief as they disappear into the backroom.

"Now he's not a random man, right?" Remus murmurs to her, his breath coasting against the shell of her ear. She nearly jumps out of her skin at the proximity.

"I suppose not," she says, trying to keep her cool but Remus is looking at her with bright eyes. It doesn't help when his lips quirk triumphantly, smugly. "But—" she interjects before it can widen any further, "—if it turns out that your friend is horrendous at the guitar, I think it's only fair if you also have to suffer through it."

Remus's brows shoot up. "And if he's good at it?"

"Then you get to witness my masterful teaching."

He huffs out a laugh, a little disbelieving, a little amused. "Fine," Remus sighs, but he's clearly trying not to smile. She finds herself wishing that he did. "I'll be there."

— — — — —

Sirius, as it turns out, is awful at the guitar. Winnie tries to chalk it up to it being his first time trying it out, but even then, he seemed... challenged.

She had been teaching him for an hour now — her sitting on one of the kitchen stools she had pulled into her flat's shoebox of a living room-bedroom situation, Sirius sitting on the couch with her old guitar precariously balanced on his knees. Remus tried to excuse himself once he realized his friend was musically challenged. Feeling merciful — and also realizing that Remus's presence was making her too nervous to focus on teaching Sirius — Winnie nodded him towards the kitchen. She had spent all morning meticulously cleaning her flat — even she knew she was being a little ridiculous and overly nervous when she started scrubbing at the oven — in preparation for the session. Even then, the knowledge that Remus was in her flat filled her with a different type of nerves.

"Let's take a break," Winnie huffs finally, setting her guitar down.

Sirius rises to his feet and stretches, looking relieved. "I'll get some water for us?" He offers, already making himself at home. Winnie nods, waving him off as she tries to fight back the incoming migraine from stressing over Sirius snapping her strings. At the reminder of his hand-eye coordination and all the glass she has in her cupboards, she springs to her feet quickly.

"Maybe I should just charm the guitar," Sirius is murmuring when she walks in to the kitchen.

"No amount of charisma will charm the guitar," Winnie says, amused. The boys straighten, looking strangely guilty.

"But Sirius is particularly charming," Remus supplies abruptly, darting a quick look to Sirius, who just looks startled by his friend's sudden proclamation.

"I see," Winnie says slowly, exchanging a baffled glance with Sirius.

"Right, well, I ought to practice some more then," Sirius says, giving a salute as he leaves the kitchen.

"Is he that bad?" Remus asks once Sirius leaves.

"It's like he's never used his hands before a day in his life to do anything," Winnie whispers to Remus with a solemn nod.

Remus makes a choking sound as though he's trying not to laugh. Winnie wishes he did. "You don't know the half of it," he huffs, lips curling as if he's sharing a secret.

"He's not really not very good with his fingers," Winnie admits honestly, lifting her cup to her lips.

"That's not his reputation among the girls," Remus blurts.

Winnie chokes on her water and starts coughing violently. Alarmed, Remus reaches out and pats her on the back. "What?" She rasps around a sore throat as she turns to give Remus an incredulous look.

His expression is too carefully neutral as he shrugs at her. "Sirius has always been Hogwart's most sought after bachelor," he recites, as if she's supposed to know what this meant.

"What's going on, Remus?" Winnie questions, her brows shooting up higher. "You've been acting strange recently. It's like you're trying to sell me this poor boy or..." She falters, turning to look at Remus. To his credit, he looks sheepish as he looks away to inspect her cabinets. "Remus," she begins, her voice dangerously low. "Please tell me you're not trying to set me up with your friend."

Remus goes pink in the face and it's all she needs to confirm her suspicions. Inwardly, her heart drops a little, but outwardly, she just stares at him, waiting for a proper response. As if realizing there wasn't a way of getting out of this, the brown-haired boy sighs a little, raking a hand through his hair. "I just thought you two would get along well together," he says, looking at her with earnest eyes.

It hurts. Much more than she cares to admit. Trying to swallow back the disappointment, Winnie turns so that he can't see it on her face. So that's what this has been about. "For how long?" She asks, her throat dry. She can feel a headache coming on.

"How long what?" Remus asks. He sounds confused.

"How long have you been thinking about setting us up? Did he even want to learn the guitar?" Winnie thinks back to Remus's reluctance on coming to her flat. She thinks back to him bringing Sirius along to the concert. She thinks about how much she likes Remus and how she thought he felt the same way. So it had all been one sided. Humiliation burns in her stomach as she stares down at her hands.

"No, he did, he did want to learn how to play the guitar," he says quickly. "Or, er, he was interested in learning after I told him about you. Sirius is a great guy, really!" Remus, all too late, seems to sense something amiss when she doesn't respond. He straightens, an expression of growing alarm on his face. "Are you... upset?"

"No," Winnie says. She wasn't, for once. In fact, she just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her hole. "I'm just..." She trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose before exhaling quietly.

"Sirius is a great guy, I promise," Remus says again, slowly as if not to spook a wild animal. But Winnie has already been spooked.

"Yeah, he is," she says, her voice pitched just slightly too high and just slightly too clipped as she turns to flee the kitchen. "But not very great at the guitar, so I'd better go check up on him. I suspect he'd find a way to set fire to my flat with just a guitar."

"I'm an idiot," she mutters to herself, closing her eyes for a moment.

A cheerful voice chirps up from the couch. "So, when can I join your band?"

— — — — —

Winnie doesn't go to work for the rest of the week. She asks her coworkers to cover her shift with a fake cough and a groan of a headache. The headache part isn't really a lie — ever since her conversation with Remus in her kitchen, she's felt a dull ache drumming behind her eyes. So she's holed herself in her apartment — specifically her bed, under lots of blankets — sulking and moping by herself.

By the fifth day, Winnie realizes bitterly that she can't keep this up. She has rent to pay. On the day that she's decided to come back into the coffee shop, her phone rings. "Winnie, are you coming in today?" her coworker asks.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better," Winnie lies as she stuffs her apron into her bag.

"Great," her coworker says before pausing. "There's been a bloke coming by asking for you."

Winnie can feel the headache come back full force. "A bloke," she repeats, knowing full well they both knew who she was talking about.

"Tall, brown hair. I told him you've been out sick, but he seems worried, so you ought to give him a ring."

To her chagrin, Remus is there the first day she comes back.

"Hi, welcome," she says, her voice tight. Winnie plasters a too-bright smile on her face to compensate. "What can I get for you today?"

Remus blinks. "A matcha latte. How have—"

"Coming right up," she says, punching in the order with rapid speed. Still smiling brightly. "That'll be $4.50—"

Remus hands her a five before she can finish.

"Here's your change, sir—" Winnie tacks it on at the end of the sentence before she can help it. Remus's face crumples in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowing together as he watches her for a moment longer. It feels as though his eyes are burning through her.

"You can keep the change," he says softly, still looking at her.

Winnie forces out a thank you. She feels as though her smile is starting to look like a grimace. Her cheeks are hurting. He's still looking at her with those stupidly pretty brown eyes. She knows he's waiting. She forces herself to look back down at the register before straightening. "Next in line, please."

— — — — —

To her relief, she's not on cash register duty the next time he comes. Winnie ducks her head with forced concentration as she makes an order. She's definitely too concentrated on making the drink that she doesn't notice the way his face brightens again when he sees her as he nears the counter. She's definitely too concentrated to hear her coworker take his order of a matcha latte. She's definitely too concentrated to feel his eyes on her as she busies herself behind the counter. She definitely wasn't paying attention.

This game of concentration can only go on for so long, Winnie realizes belatedly after she finishes making his drink. She stares down at his name on the cup glumly for a moment before putting her best customer-service smile back on. "For Remus," she calls out without quite looking up. Though she knows that he's sitting patiently at his normal table.

When he comes, Winnie puts a straw on the lid, trying not to look as tense as she feels.

"Hi," he says, looking at her fully in the face.

"Hi," she says back, not quite looking at him, but also not quite looking away. This time, there's no line and nowhere to escape to.

Remus fiddles with the straw wrapper slowly. "How..." He falters, his eyes imploring as he tries to catch her gaze. His brows are furrowed slightly. "...have you been? They said you've been ill?"

"Ah yeah," Winnie says weakly, busying herself with tidying up the straws and napkins by the register. "Caught a cold."

"It's not Dragon Pox, is it?" He says, his brows furrowing even further, a crease of concern between them.

Winnie blinks at him. "Dragon Pox?"

Remus blinks back at her. "Oh, maybe not then," he murmurs hurriedly before clearing his throat. "Er, if you're still feeling ill, I have this—" He reaches into the pocket of his long coat and pulls out a small vial. Winnie stares at it blankly. "—that helps with cold symptoms."

She squints at it, dubiously. "Is that medicine?"

Remus fiddles with the little glass vial. "Something of the sort."

"You just carry that around... in your pocket?"

"Well no," Remus says, looking embarrassed now. He clears his throat as his eyes dart down to the vial. "I wanted to give it to you, but I thought that dropping it off at your flat might be too much."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly. Her stomach does a traitorous flip and she forces herself to also look down at the vial as her last defenses against him begin to crumble. She should've known this was going to happen. "That's sweet of you."

"It's nothing," he mumbles, setting the vial on the table. "Er, are you busy today?"

Winnie swallows. "Yeah, I've been out, so I ought to pull my weight around here," she says, though she thinks the both of them knows that it's a lie. The coffee shop barely had anyone else in it. But Winnie doesn't look up at him to see his face fall — she knows that if he just flashes her his doe eyes, she'll be back at square one. She forces a smile on her face.

Remus nods. His disappointment is clear on his face as he stuffs his hand back into the pocket of his coat. Winnie tried not to think about it. "Right, well, I'll be over there if you need a break."

— — — — —

Her landline rings again for the third time in the past fives minutes as she tries to get the chord progression correct. Though she's been trying, she's hit an even bigger music-block recently. Winnie squints at the number — it's the same one that's been trying to dial her. With a frustrated sigh, she sets her guitar to the side and picks up the receiver from the landline with a little too much vigor. "Hello?" She asks, the irritation in her voice cutting through clearly.

"Winnie?"

She pauses, taken aback. "This is she," she says after a moment. Who would be calling her nearly at midnight?

"Sorry, were you sleeping? I just got a telephone and I wanted to call, but I didn't realize it was this late—" The person on the other end sounds a little out of breath.

"Sorry, who is this?" She asks, bewildered now.

A pause. "It's Remus."

Winnie nearly drops the phone. "Remus?" She repeats.

"Yeah," he says uncertainly. "Remus Lupin," he adds, as if that'll help.

"Of course I know who you are," she says, a little disbelieving.

"You didn't sound like you did a few seconds ago," he says good-naturedly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting a call from someone without a phone."

He huffs out a laugh, soft and quiet. Hearing it close to her ear through the receiver makes a warmth spread through her chest. This was dangerous. She settles back on the couch as Remus continues talking, his voice soft like he's trying not to wake up his flatmate. "Well, to be fair, I did just get it."

"I never thought I'd see the day," she murmurs despite the danger bells tolling in her head. "What made you take the technological leap?"

Winnie can almost hear his eye roll through the receiver. "Well, I may have offended a girl at this coffee shop I frequent by not having one. Thought I should right my wrongs."

Her heart stutters dangerously in her chest. She's glad he can't see her because she can feel a pleased warmth flushing across her face as she lies down on the couch and kicks her legs over the armchair. She wants to scream from the giddiness. And then scream again for having no dignity. The thought that he had gotten a phone to call her is entirely absurd, but Winnie almost lets herself believe it. "I see," she says after she collects herself for a moment. "Sounds noble." A pause. "So you kept my napkin."

"No," Remus says automatically. "Sirius threw it away."

Winnie frowns, her brows furrowing. "Then how'd you get my number?"

"I memorized it."

She nearly falls to the floor at that, the phone rubbing against the couch as she sits up swiftly.

"Hello?" Remus's distant voice calls uncertainly through the speaker. "Winnie?"

"Hi!" Winnie chirps into the phone quickly, too brightly. She's beyond glad Remus can't see her face — she knows she's bright red now. And she's trying hard not to grin ear to ear. "Sorry about that, poor connection," she fibs.

Remus pauses. She can almost hear the frown in his voice when he speaks up again. "Is it my phone? The man at the store said it might—"

"No, no, that was on my end," she says quickly, fanning herself now. She needed to calm down. Immediately. "So, why did you call?"

A pause. She can hear him shuffling like he's sitting down. "No reason," he says. "I just wanted to hear your voice. I like this. It feels like I can hear you smiling."

To hell with calming down. She was getting no sleep that night with the way her heart was palpitating. "Holy hell," Winnie murmurs out loud, very sure now that Remus was trying to kill her. Death by heart attack. Remus Lupin, the secret ladykiller.

"What was that?" Remus asks through the phone.

"Nothing," Winnie mumbles, closing her eyes.

They both fall silent, though Winnie is sure he can hear her thumping heart through the receiver. "Er, Winnie," Remus speaks up finally. "The other reason I wanted to call was I suppose it had felt like it's been ages since we last spoke and I missed talking with you."

Winnie's heart does a dangerous quiver. And then she catches herself, all too soon, and all too suddenly.

Even after the past few weeks of trying to get over her unrequited crush, all it took was a few sweet words from him for her to cave and start at the beginning again. She couldn't keep being pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled. If she wanted to properly move on, she needed distance. Proper distance.

As if sensing something, Remus speaks up again hesitantly. "Did I do something?"

"No," Winnie says, closing her eyes. She can almost hear him breathing on the other end of the call. This would be easier to do over the phone, when she can't see his big brown eyes staring back at her earnestly — although she feels as though she's committed it to memory and can imagine it. "It's me, I— It's nothing that you've done or anything, I just need space."

"Space," Remus echoes quietly.

She tries to let out a light laugh. "Yeah, I've just got a lot on my mind recently. It's nothing you've done."

Remus is quiet for awhile before he speaks up again. "I'm here to listen if you ever want to talk through anything," he says softly. "We're friends, after all, right?"

"Friends," she murmurs to herself before straightening. "Right, of course."

More silence. "Well, it's late so I'll let you go." A pause, as if he's waiting for a response. Waiting for her to keep talking like she always did. Waiting for a reason to keep talking.

"Good night, Remus," she says instead, her fingers tightening around the receiver.

"Good night, Winnie." Winnie can hear the disappointment in his voice and lets it sink into her like a dagger. She needed to remember it to move on. Then maybe they could properly be friends. Winnie hangs up the phone first.

— — — — —

"Morning, Winnie," a bright voice chirps.

Winnie looks up, startled to see a pair of striking, but familiar gray eyes peering back at her. Sirius Black is standing in front of the counter, grinning at her widely. "Sirius," she says, surprised. "What can I get for you?"

Sirius gives the menu a cursory glance. "Huh, matcha," he says to himself thoughtfully.

"That's what Remus normally gets," she offers, trying to be helpful.

Sirius looks back at her, his eyes bright and startling astute. "You know," he says, dropping his voice to a secretive murmur. Despite herself, Winnie leans closer curiously. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

Winnie recoils, bewildered. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "Grass?" She repeats, a little affronted now. "It does not taste like grass—"

"Winnie," he says again, arching a delicate brow at her. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

She shoots him a baleful glare that goes against her customer service training. "Okay," she exhales. "So what drink would you want then?"

Sirius sighs as if she's being terribly daft. "What I'm saying is that Remus hates the taste of matcha but comes here nearly every other day to drink it. Isn't that strange?"

Winnie blinks. Once. Twice. It's as if Sirius can see the thought forming on her face because he starts to grin. "But," she says stubbornly, mulishly. Sirius's grin falters. Winnie takes secret pleasure in that. "—he drinks it every time."

Sirius's expression goes slack, but Winnie refuses to be deterred. She had already tricked herself twice into thinking that there could be more between her and Remus, she wasn't going to put herself through that again. "Merlin," Sirius exhales, scrubbing a frustrated hand over his face. "You both are so bloody stubborn—"

"No, he doesn't," a voice cuts in from behind her. Her coworker steps in with an equally exasperated expression. "Winnie, I'll be honest with you, he only ever drinks it when you make it. Whenever I hand it to him, it just sits there."

Sirius's grin returns, full force, as he nods excitedly. "I'm only telling you so that you can both stop dancing around each other. And so he can stop playing your bleeding cas— casserole... Merlin, what are they called? The little magical music squares?" Sirius flounders and turns to her coworker for help.

"Cassettes?" Her coworker supplies uncertainly.

"Cassettes!" Sirius agrees, looking relieved before he rounds on Winnie again to continue his berating. "So he can stop playing your bleeding cassettes around the flat!" And then he pauses. "Er, no offense, your music is great, but I just can't keep listening to the same album—"

"He has my cassettes?" Winnie whispers, wide-eyed.

Sirius stares at her like she's being impossibly dumb. "Yeah," he says, solemnly. "Everyday I'm a little tempted to throw them—" He seems to catch himself because he shoulders on smoothly. "Anyways, while he's been sulking around the flat, I finally found out that Moony was being ridiculous and was trying to play cupid. He can be incredibly dense for someone so smart," Sirius sighs, grimacing. "By the way, I actually was interested in learning the guitar."

Winnie stares at him dumbly, a little shell-shocked. "Oh," she says as Sirius gives her a wink.

"He's coming by later," he says as he turns towards the door.

"What?" She blurts. Remus hasn't come by or called her ever since she had asked for space, expectedly. She had been ignoring the empty feeling since then, reasoning it to be a necessary development for her to move on.

"I told him you had called on the — what's it called? — phone-tele saying you wanted to see him."

"What?" Winnie exclaims, but Sirius is already fleeing through the door. Dimly, she thinks that he didn't even order a drink.

"Go easy on him, sweetheart! He likes tea!"

— — — — —

"One matcha please."

"Name?"

A small, uncertain smile. A hesitant hint of a dimple. Her heart quaking again. "Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up."

Winnie tries to still her shaking hands as she makes him a drink. It doesn't help that she can feel her heart bursting through her chest. She takes a steadying breath and rakes a hand through her hair before taking the drink to his table. "For a Remus Lupin," she announces, setting the cup down in front of him. It's near closing time and there's no one else in the coffee shop.

Remus looks up, his brows shooting up below his waves. "What's this?"

"Earl gray," she says, matching his gaze.

His brows furrow. "But I ordered matcha."

"It's a personal recommendation from the kitchen," she says, nodding down at the tea. "I heard that matcha tastes like grass."

Remus's face pales, but he manages to cover it up with a nervous laugh that only confirms her suspicions. And her hopes. "Matcha doesn't taste like grass—" he begins, but his voice falters when he catches sight of her smiling.

"Remus," she says brightly, her smile broadening. "I finished the song."

"The song," he says blankly, looking startled as if he's trying to keep up. He blinks at her rapidly.

"The love song I've been stuck on," she reminds him impatiently.

"Oh! Oh! See, I knew you'd be able to finish," Remus says, still looking bewildered.

Winnie smiles at him. "It was inspired by you."

"Inspired by me," he parrots for a moment, nodding, before his eyes widen fractionally. "Inspired by me?" He blurts.

"What I'm saying is," she begins, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. "I like you."

Maybe the only way to move on was to be properly rejected. Or maybe the only way to move on, Winnie thought selfishly, was to give in to the hope that Sirius had planted.

Remus's face goes slack. And then, wonderfully, a soft pink flush begins to crawl up the nape of his neck, dusting his cheeks in two brilliant splotches. "I— Winnie— But you're—" he flounders, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Dimly, Winnie thinks it's a little unfair how adorable he looks flustered. She also thinks that she wouldn't mind always seeing him flustered.

"But I'm so what?" She asks, tilting her head to the side casually, despite her thundering heartbeat.

"But you're so, so—" he's stammering now, flushed and a little wild-eyed. "—incandescent."

Winnie thought she had control over the conversation, but at his admittance, she feels a little dizzy. "Incandescent," she repeats in a wide-eyed whisper. In that moment, she knew that no boy would ever call her anything as meaningful. That there would be no other boy that would mean anything to her.

Remus's face only turns a brighter scarlet as he backtracks. "I mean, you're you and I'm— I'm Remus," he says nonsensically.

"Remus Lupin," she corrects with a weak laugh, heart still thumping dangerously.

Remus nods earnestly, as if that's supposed to make any sense. "Yeah," he says, throat bobbing as he swallows. "And, and you could do so much better." Winnie's heart clenches a little at the way he can't meet her eyes. "I'm— I'm not good with people— I wouldn't be good for you."

Winnie chewed the inside of her cheek uncertainly. "Remus, I can't tell if you actually think that or if you really don't like me and are just using that as an excuse because I'd rather it if you just rejected me outright—"

"Of course I like you," he blurts a little frantically with a disbelieving laugh. Winnie's heart trembles so violently that she thinks she needs to take a seat. Remus, on the other hand, pales a little at his outburst as he scrubs a hand over his face. "I mean, anybody would. But you could do so much better. I mean, I'm not good with people or talking and I don't—" She can see that he's begun to work himself up into some sort of frazzled frenzy. "I don't have tattoos or eat cigs for breakfast," he blurts.

Winnie does a double-take. "I know?" She says, bewildered. "Where is this coming from?"

"You said the type of guy you're attracted to has tattoos and eats cigs for breakfast."

Winnie balks at him for a moment before she realizes what he's talking about. She wants to laugh but instead holds it in as she stares fondly at the man in front of her. "Remus," she sighs again, stepping closer to him. The knowledge that he liked her back sends thrilling waves of adrenaline through her. Even though he's taller than her, she feels as though she's the one towering over him.

Emboldened, Winnie takes a deep breath, rises to her toes because he's so bloody tall, and grabs him by the cheeks. Remus's mouth clamps shut as his eyes widen. She wishes she could pour all her emotion into her palm and just press it against him so that he would understand.

"I said that those were the guys I attract, not that I'm attracted to. And I think you're lovely, to say in the least. You're kind, brilliant, a wonderful listener. I think your eyes and your smile are stupidly distracting— Actually, I think you're just the prettiest boy I've ever seen. And I wish you could see these things for yourself, but if it means that I have to love you for the both of us, I would be happy to. If you'd let me."

"Oh," Remus blurts, two bright scarlet splotches flushing on his cheeks. Up close, Winnie can see the way the light catches like gold in his brown eyes.

"Sorry, I'm always talking your ear off," she whispers, her fingers curling a little in the waves his hair. His skin is soft and warm beneath her fingers. "It's fine, really, if you want to reject me. But it's not fair for you to make the decision based off what you think I should want. Because I know that I want you and that's enough for me, yeah?"

Remus parts his mouth and Winnie is so sure that he's going to say something stubborn again.

"Can I kiss you?" He murmurs, brown eyes blown dark and wide as they dart to her lips.

Caught entirely caught off guard, all Winnie can do is make an assenting sound before his head is dipping down towards hers swiftly, as though that was all he was waiting for.

There's no soft, chaste exploration she had expected — instead, Remus kisses like he's burning up from the inside, like he's melting into her. His mouth is warm and sweet — he tastes like the earl gray tea she had made — and his lips are soft as one of his hand rises to catch her jaw, his other hand slipping gently to cradle the back of her head, his long fingers in her hair, as he tilts her face up.

Winnie's mind went blank the moment his lips slotted against hers, but she's rendered entirely useless when his teeth tugs at her bottom lip gently. All she can do is cling onto his neck and shoulders — she doesn't even know when her hands had moved from cupping his face — as Remus tries to guide her even closer to him. Winnie doesn't even have the capacity to feel embarrassment at the appreciative sigh that's pulled from her lips when he deepens the kiss.

To her mingled disappointment and relief — because she's started to run out of air and was feeling light-headed — Remus pulls back just far enough to peer at her with wide eyes. "Sorry, was that too much?" He whispers, voice wonderfully hoarse, his lips still brushing against hers. His brown eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back around as if he can't decide where to look.

Total ladykiller, Winnie thinks dimly. Somehow, he always managed to catch her off guard even when she thought she was in control. "Um," she manages, breathless, her heart nearly giving out now. "Wow."

When she catches sight of him properly, another thrill runs through her. His pretty eyes are dazed over and his lips reddened and flushed. He looks a little dizzy. "Yeah," he murmurs back, equally nonsensically. He brushes a thumb across her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine. Catching this, Remus just smiles at her, as if impossibly endeared, and it does little to calm her heart. "How about a date tomorrow?"

"Not a coffee shop, I hope," Winnie says mulishly in an attempt to deflect from her warming cheeks. But Remus, as always, can see right through her.

A soft laugh rumbles in his chest as he smiles down at her fondly. "We can go wherever you want."

— — — — —

It's rush hour again. There's a dozen cups lined up for her to make and she's begun to lose track of what she's doing. When she glances down at the name of the one she just finished, Winnie doesn't bother hiding her grin as she calls out, "An earl gray for a Remus Lupin!"

Winnie's smile widens when she catches sight of him in his knitted sweater. And then, "I'm missing a drink."

Her smile falters in confusion as she looks down at the earl gray in his hand. "Hm?" She hums, frowning now.

Remus nods down at the other drink she had finished making, his lips twitching. Winnie blinks at his smile distractedly before peering at the cup. "Matcha latte for Cariad?"

Remus just smiles innocently at her, his eyes warm and fond. "That one's for you."

a/n: hope you enjoyed! love love love hearing your thoughts, so let me know what you think! <3 i feel like i could make a whole remus coffee shop -verse of oneshots now... if that's something.... we would be interested in............. i love the idea of wizards interfacing with muggle society and how shite they would be (re: sirius not knowing how to do anything). even though remus's mom is a muggle, i imagine since he's been at hogwarts for most of his life from 11-18 and spent his childhood moving around a lot and living in the more rural areas, i wanted to play off the idea that though he's been in muggle society, he's probably awkward as hell in a muggle city. edit: more remus x winnie oneshots on my masterlist! >> my masterlist!

[auteurdelabre]

Code Broken (Chapter 2) Mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze. 

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [f receiving], Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk  

word count:  5.1k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

=======================================

Chapter 2: House of the Rising Sun

Its months later, the beginning of fall in Jackson city. The homes are decorated with paper cut outs of black cats and witches. Streamers of orange and black curve around the poles of the canteen. Pumpkins are carved and placed on doorsteps in preparation for next week. 

It's your favorite time of year here. The time after the oppressive heat of the summer yet before the blankets of snow that overstay their welcome a little longer each year. It's the time when you pull out your favorite knitted scarf and go for long walks within the expanse of the community. 

Trish is getting married to one of the butchers in town. He's shy but quick to smile with white blonde hair that falls into his eyes. 

As with most celebrations the entire community is invited and involved in some way. You're making the dress. The girls from work are joyfully putting together decorations, citing that these will be even nicer than the ones done for Tommy and Maria's wedding party. The event is still months away but you want it to be perfect. Trish means so much to you.

You have a basket overflowing with multicoloured foliage to decorate your home but when you notice a pale yellow groundsel amongst the sleeping earth you stop. You bend down and pluck the flower, marvelling at the softness of its plush petals. Under your fingertips they feel like the gentle lips of a lover. 

The sudden, intrusive thought that comes with that unbidden thought causes you to scowl, crumpling the delicate flower in your fist. You drop its crushed body to the ground as you continue on your walk. 

You know with the encroaching cold weather you'll have a lot to mend at the office tomorrow. Pants, jackets, curtains, blankets. You're never in need of something to do, that's for certain and you like that. You like a purpose, you like seeing people walk by in your knitted scarves or patched jeans. It gives you a satisfaction that just surviving from place to place for years never could. 

You like the people you work with, they always invite you for a drink at the end of the week as if the job you all do is such a strain. As if you don't all work half a day, mending and darning around the circular table over coffee and laughter, taking turns using the sewing machine for the bigger projects. 

It's at your job where you'd first met Trish who was bringing in a stack of fabric she hoped could be turned into curtains. She was one of the teachers of the younger kids, desperate to bring some color into the drab classroom she'd been given. You'd been new, shy and Trish had taken you under her wing. She had always looked out for you, always supported you.

It's why you want her wedding to be as perfect as possible. You know she would just borrow some nice dress a neighbor owns instead of getting one made by you. You know she wouldn't ask for the work you’re putting into her dress, but you do it anyway. Those extra touches mean something to you and to her. 

The dress is far and above the hardest thing you've ever made. Designed it, sewn it, and cried in frustration over it. 

When a pile of old lace had been brought in to the sewing room you'd squealed with delight and claimed a bit for yourself. It would be the perfect accent to the dress, only the lace is yellowed with age. You've tried a few home remedies but nothing gives it that snow white color you need. You'll need a bit of bleach. 

It's that thought in mind that sets you off early the next day, your scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, your cheeks pink from the wind. You're heading for the general store before going to work, hoping you can find what you need. 

The slanted wood roof comes readily into view just off the main square. You come at the start of every week to the general shop with its tall ceilings and solid shelves to see what can be salvaged for clothing or other textile needs. 

Everything non perishable that gets salvaged in travels comes through the main building and sorted. Fabric, paper, soap, shoelaces just to name a few. Some of the older folks spend a few days but divvying up where each item goes - kitchen, stables, general shop. 

You push the green door open, the familiar tinkle of the bell ringing overhead to announce your arrival. 

"Here for fabric if any came in last week," you say with a smile to Ralph, one of the folks who mind the shop day to day. He's sitting on a stool near the side of the space reading an old paperback.  He gives you a warm smile, showing off the whitest teeth you've ever seen. 

"Just got a box yesterday."

He pops off his stool, the recent page of the paperback dog-eared for later reading. Looking at the yellowed pages you think back to the lace soaking in your sink at home.

"Oh and bleach if you have any extra. Just a little."

Bleach is a hot commodity here, used for everything from cleaning to drinking water if there's a need for it. But Ralph knows you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. 

"Might have a small container of it in the back. Gimme a second."

Your eyes drift to the back of the shop as he says this. "I'll browse for a bit, then."

"New ones in the lower right," he laughs while he heads to the storage in the back room, calling out to you from the space. "Lucky you came today, had a few people asking for extra fabric for the kids costumes last week."

"Really?" you ask, but you're not really listening to his reply. Your eyes are already going to the back of the shop that leads into the little lending library. 

It's modest, barely bigger than an elevator but its shelves go to the ceiling and are weighted down with books. You've read almost all of them. This space is where books come to live, be read, returned, traded. It's one of your favorite places in your small world. 

You step into this sanctum, greeted by the scent of aged pages and feel your heart skip a beat. It always feels so good to be here, to be surrounded by so many topics and worlds. These are world's you'll only see in the written word, a world with no outbreak, a world bigger than Jackson City. 

Ralph asks you about your plans for today as you browse and you answer distractedly, dropping to a knee when you see a book you've never seen before in the lower right, just like Ralph said. 

Jane Eyre. 

You skim the back and read the summary: haunted mansions, an orphaned heroine, a brooding romantic lead? You decide this will be a good read for tonight in front of the fire.

You right yourself as the tinkle of the shop door sounds behind you. Something in the air changes, an electricity that you can't explain. It's like the world expands and contracts all at once and then suddenly you just know. 

It's him.

"Morning Joel," Ralph says cheerfully.

"Mornin'."

The rumble of his voice is unmistakable. You'd know it even if you hadn't heard his name. That low rasp of Texas twang in the richness of his timbre. Your pulse skyrockets, the world growing quiet under the sound of your heartbeat. 

Immediately you're moving to the far shelves, ducking your head and trying to regulate your breathing. Boxes are stacked at one end, meaning the odds of him sneaking up on you are minimal. 

"Need help finding anything?" Ralph asks helpfully. 

"Nah," Joel replies in that quiet, even way of his. "I know where the shampoo is."

His boots shuffle over the grainy floor, slow and deliberate. You haven't seen him yet which means he hasn't seen you. There's a chance you can just slip out unnoticed. You place the book on the shelf next to you beside the canned peaches. You'll come back for it tomorrow. Right now you need to get out as quickly and quietly as possible. 

Despite living next door to him, in the past few months you've managed to stay off Joel's radar. After that horrible experience in his house you've gone to great lengths to avoid him. You go early to work during the week, you don't go to the movie nights anymore, you'd never been a big rider but now you don't even go near the stables. 

Sometimes you might see him in the crowd during a meal but you're always able to avoid him, to duck away before his cold eyes land on you. 

But here now? There are three of you in the shop. It's still early, most folks aren't even at their jobs yet. 

You see the top of Joel's head over the shelving, his dark waves gliding until he finds what he's looking for in the hair care section. You catch yourself thinking of his hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his head tilted back under the water of the shower, rivulets of ---

Stop it.

"Here ya go," Ralph calls your name from the front of the shop. "All packed and ready to go." 

You see Joel's head snap in your direction as your called and you press your forehead against the cool shelf in frustration. So much for getting out unseen. You take a beat, gathering your courage and your focus. 

It's simple. Joel's on the other side of the shop. You'll just dart over to Ralph, grab the bag and go back to work. It's simple. You'll be fine. You won't look back. 

Then you see it out of your peripherals.

Two dark brown boots stopping at the end of your aisle with a gentle scrape. You can't go backwards, the boxes behind you form a cardboard wall. The only way out is through, past the man with the wide shoulders and strong hands. Past the man who gave you so much only to immediately take it away. 

He hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. You don't dare make eye contact with him. Your face flushes red, your head ducking as you shoulder past him. He makes no attempt to stand or shift back so it's easier for you. He just takes up space at the end of that aisle and you can feel him watching you maneuver past him, desperate not to touch him.

He lets you pass without issue. You think you're safe until you feel the back of his hand brushing your knuckles as you pass by. It's gentle, a ghost of a touch. You're not even sure it happened; a part of you is convinced you imagined it. But you don't slow, you don't look back, don't want to see if he's watching you. 

You don't care even if he is.

Fuck him. 

You mumble a thanks to Ralph, taking the heavy bag swiftly and rushing out of the shop. You're only steps away when you hear the door to the shop tinkle open and Joel's voice calling you by name. 

You instinctively pause in the street, your eyes blown wide at the gravelled sound. But you don't turn to face him; you don't even tilt your head to show you've heard. But he knows you have all the same, his distinctive footfalls coming in your direction until he's standing front of you. Your eyes remain on the ground, on his boots. 

He says your name again, this time softly. You didn't even realize he knew it. You refuse to look him in the eyes and decide his chin will do. He's so close you can see the spot he missed shaving just under his jaw. 

He extends his full hand. "You forgot this."

You look down to see Jane Eyre, the book you'd been about to purchase, the one next to the peaches in his grip. How had he known it was yours? Your eyes swim over the cover before glancing back to his chin. 

You have so much you want to say to him and none of it is kind. You want to scream at him for treating you so poorly. Want to punch him across the jaw for calling you pretty eyes and making you believe it. You want to shove and berate him until he confesses why he did it, why he went warm and then turned so cold. But you know you won't because there's a large chance you don't want to hear the answer. 

He hates you. He was using you. He was fucking with you after you fucked with him.

Your hair stirs in the wind, twisting and knotting in it. You say nothing when Joel's right hand comes to touch a wayward strand, smoothing it between his fingers and if testing it. The shock of his nearness is broken by this gentle action and you take a large step backwards, your hair jerking out from between his fingers.

"That's not mine," you mumble motioning to the book. 

Before he can say anything else you've turned and jogged off in the direction of your job, your heart smacking harshly against your ribs with each step. 

///

In your house that evening with lace soaking in the bleach solution you pull on a sweater and pour yourself a cup of tea. When the tea is prepared you go to the fire with your teacup and a distant look on your face. You wish you had that new book but grab something else from your shelf instead. 

It's the photo album, the one non necessity your mother brought with you from place to place. The only sentimental item that shows there was a time when the world wasn't on fire. 

When you first got to Jackson city you looked at it every night. You spoke aloud to your favorite photograph of your mother, the one where she's laughing at the beach while the two of you build a sandcastle. 

Now that it's been a few years since you arrived here you only look at it once in a while. It used to make you happy and bring you comfort when you first got here. Now when you look at the photos of your childhood all you can feel is robbed. 

No prom. No college. No career as a graphic designer. No sweet sixteen party like the one you'd been planning when the world went to shit. 

The day you'd come home from school to see your neighbor writhing in her front yard, tendrils peeking out of her mouth and straining for sunlight. That had been the day your mom had packed you up and . . .

You don't like to think about it. You thumb through the photos until you get to the second to last grainy image. The photograph that brings tears to your eyes and a pounding of your heart. 

You close the album. 

You drain your teacup; shuffle to put it in the sink. You peek at the partially submerged lace and smile. The bleach solution worked perfectly. The lace, once yellowed with age is now a beautiful white. It'll look perfect on what you've done so far with the dress.

You rinse the lace before placing it into a bowl of lukewarm water to sit in overnight and then head upstairs feeling warm but not contented. 

You get to the bedroom and change into your nightdress, yawning. You feel strange, keyed up. Today has you feeling off kilter and you know it's because of your interaction with Joel Miller this morning. 

You glance at the window that faces his house. It's propped open slightly to let the breeze in. You like the crisp air of Jackson city at this time of year.  There is music playing faintly, The House of the Rising Sun. You draw slowly over to the window, bathed in the blue of the light. A cursory glanced tells you all the lights are off in Joel's home. He’s either asleep without turning off his record player or he’s out and left it on by accident. You’d bet money on the former.

You go to close the window when your eyes fall to something placed on the ledge of the windowsill. Your heart hammers when you realize what it is. 

Jane Eyre.

The book you'd left with Joel Miller.

You frown, gripping the book and righting yourself. Still frowning you crawl under the sheets, your eyes scanning the book’s cover but not really paying attention. Joel obviously did this. Was it a message? A warning that he could enter your home at any time? Was it an apology for how he treated you?

You turn off the light, falling into a restless sleep.

Its hours later when you sense something isn't right.

There is a creak behind you and a hand is over your mouth, stilling and silencing you. Immediately you panic, flailing under the bed sheets.

"Don't scream."

Its him.

You know that if his hand wasn't over your mouth you would be. You'd be screaming shrilly in his face trying to wrench free of his grip. As it is, now that you know it's him you feel the panic subside, but only minutely. 

"Don’t scream,” he repeats.

You nod, staring up at him in the darkness. He removes his large hand then he steps back, still staring down at you. You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

"What are you doing here? In my room?"

"Fair is fair," Joel counters placidly. "You broke into my place, I break into yours." 

You don't know what to say to that. This whole situation is so surreal. Joel is in your bedroom, standing at the side of your bed staring down at you with that familiar, heavy gaze. His frown deepens but his irises remain unreadable in the shadows.

“Why’d you run from me this mornin’?”

You sigh, rising to a seated position in the bed, bringing the blanket up with you. You never take your eyes off Joel as you do this, and he doesn't hide the way his eyes are sliding along your body. 

You motion for him to take a seat on the edge of your bed, near your feet. Instead he comes closer, sitting inches away from your hip with his right leg crooked in your direction. The bed creaks under him and you glance down at his knee, so close to you. The coverlet of your bed, a delicate pale blue, is a stark contrast against the dark stonewash of his jeans. Your eyes move from his knee back to his face. 

He's waiting for you to explain with his brows raised. You swallow finding your mouth impossibly dry. After a beat you manage a shaky reply, a half shrug.  

“I dunno.”

There is a cleave between you, as wide a chasm if it physically existed. You hold tight to the blankets, not releasing them. You stare at your fingers gripping the fabric tightly. 

“You do so.”

He leaves the words hanging there in the semi darkness.

You make a gentle sound of surprise when his hand tugs the blanket down out of your hands. His eyes drink you in, shivering in your nightdress. Is it from the chill or from Joel's gaze? You're not sure. 

"The way . . . Last time," you utter quietly. The shame of that last interlude is still a stain on your mind, a humiliation you've replayed a thousand times. "Why?"

"I couldn't control myself," Joel explains without hesitation, his gaze dipping to the collar of your nightgown. "Just like I don't think I can control myself now."

You absolutely loathe the thrill that goes through you at those words. You despise that the low rasp of his voice and the soulful eyes combine to make your entire body throb.  You wonder if Joel can tell, if he can sense the way your pulse has started tripping into a gallop. 

But you need to say it. Need to explain that it wasn't okay how things ended last time. You keep your eyes on the blanket between you.

"You made me feel," you search for the words, glancing from him so you can think clearly. "Used."

There is a pause, a clearing of his throat. His voice drops a bit.

"I'm not a good man."

If you thought he was looking for sympathy that belief is erased when you look to see his challenging gaze fixed on you. 

You search his face, looking for doubt or for pain or for something he's trying to hide and you see it all there barely hidden in his eyes. You muse that one day you'll learn more of his secrets, but for now you're content to wait. 

You'll wait for his secrets, but not for his touch. You move up onto your palms and with a short crawl you close the gap between you. He sits still, watching you approach in measured breaths. 

You press your lips to the side of his neck, knowing that kissing his mouth would ruin you. It would make it so much harder if Joel turns cold again. Instead you'll enjoy the quiet groan it elicits from him vibrating against your lips. 

You move back, looking at him from under your hair in a way you hope communicates that he has permission to continue. There is a moment where he looks unsure, as if he’s fighting an inner battle. But then with a low growl he pushes forward, crawling over you and pressing you back until you're lying under him, your knees pressing into his sides. His body is heavy on yours but you don't want it any other way. 

He's kissing your throat, wild open mouthed things that make you keen. His hips grind against yours as he kisses and nibbles. You feel the bulge grow in his jeans and this makes you groanw wantonly. When one large hand goes to cup your breast through your flimsy nightgown you whimper. 

Then he's stopped, holding himself above you and breathing raggedly. 

"I'm not a good man," Joel repeats. And now you see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he looks at you.

You take his hand, still wrapped around your breast and slide it downward. He lets you do this silently, allowing you to move his wide palm down over your tummy, your pelvis and then finally . . .  Over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

"I don't need you to be good," you sigh. 

This is all the encouragement he needs. His hand jerks your panties to the side, so desperate to continue touching you his finger begins sliding along your damp slit. It’s a short tease. You hiss as one of his fingers curls inside your cunt abruptly, the slick allowing him to slide in with ease. You jolt at the intrusion, your fingers flexing into his shoulders. 

He stares down at you, your eyes creaking open to watch him. His face is neutral save for the way his dark eyes stay on your mouth. His fingers curl, coax, pleasure. His thumb taps your swollen bud and you give a strangled whimper. It feels so fucking good. 

Your hand is at his belt buckle, preparing to undo it when his free hand bats yours away. 

"We've done enough for me," Joel murmurs as his hands go to the waist of your panties, dragging them down slowly. They glide over your legs, the fabric leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trails down your body and is then tossed onto the floor. 

You're lying back on your elbows watching this when he pushes you back into the bed. He follows you, kissing your collar with a dizzying softness. You arch as his mouth moves down your body, his hands teasing and grazing you everywhere until you feel about to unravel.

You give a ragged breath as he kisses you, just below your navel. Your skin twitches at the sensation of his facial hair rasping against the smooth flesh of your abdomen before he pulls back. Your eyes crack open to see he’s still fully dressed, not even palming himself through his jeans.

Instead he’s gripping your ankles and with a soft pull he brings you to the edge of the bed before he moves between the vee off your thighs. His eyes linger along your lower half, a tongue coming to trail the seam of his lips. His intent is clear. He's not going to stop at kissing your belly.

You draw your knees together, anxious. You're nervous. You know what he wants but you've never had a man do this before. You don't know what to expect and Joel seems to sense your hesitation. Much like your first time he's serious, all business. Warm calloused hands are on both your knees.

"Open for me."

It seems he feels most comfortable when he's in control giving orders. You can imagine that's how he survived outside the walls of Jackson City. 

The blunted tips of his fingers dig into your flesh, a silent way to prompt you. You'll feel so exposed like that though, in front of Joel Miller of all people. He's so serious, so intimidating. And he's looking down at you as if he wants to consume you whole. 

"Open."

His voice is a low purr, and his fingertips start to move in slow circles over your kneecap, gentle and stirring. You know you're absolutely soaked, probably dripping onto the blanket under you. 

You swallow before you allow your thighs to fall open for him. His eyes dart down to your slick cunt, the trembling of your body, the way you're looking up at him with a look of fear and deep need. 

You aren't expecting the almost pained look that crosses his serious features, the slack of his mouth as he hits his knees on the wood floor beside the bed. 

"Fuck," Joel moans, his hands coming to grip the blanket on either side of you. "I need a taste." 

Without ceremony he's gripping your thighs and moved his mouth between your legs, a flat tongue slipping between your slit. Immediately you arch back, the sensation fucking divine. Your head hits the pillow so quickly you see stars.

He holds fast to you, even when you begin to wriggle. He’s making soft groaning noises, kissing you, licking you there. You feel helpless to stop from opening your eyes and looking down the length of your body. The sight of Joel Miller between your thighs makes you moan,

You aren’t expecting Joel’s eyes to be open, fixed on your face as he tastes you. You expect him to look away, caught, but he doesn’t. If anything his gaze pierces you and he begins fucking you with his tongue. You had no idea it was possible.

You wish you could say you held out, that you were in control. But soon, too soon, you feel the warmth in your lower belly start to spread. As if he can sense it, Joel's mouth drags from your cunt to begin pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.

You give a sound that is both pleading and desperate. Joel lets out of soft rumbling chuckle that you can feel grazing against your cunt. 

"So impatient," he rumbles, huffing warm air against your exposed clit. 

You let out a shuddering exhale. He's holding you with one arm over your abdomen; the second snaking is way between your thighs. His fingers comes to circle your clit as his lips move back between your legs, working together to bring you to the edge. Your head falls back sharply and you try to hold yourself back from bucking into Joel's greedy mouth. 

"Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body as he tastes you. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze. 

"That's she is" he croons, his lips pressing sweet open mouthed kisses to your cunt. His fingers are removed and now it’s just him, his talented mouth pulling you deeper into the pleasure you can’t hide from. But it’s almost too much, the pleasure frightening you and you move to inch back from him.

His grip is steel and instead of his arm banding across your waist, he moves to your hips, holding you in place. His tongue is flicking now, causing choked noises to emit from you. Your entire body is trembling, and now Joel’s tongue laves your swollen clit.

"Give it to me," Joel groans. "I need it."

You arch up off the bed, your hands groping the blanket for purchase. You can feel yourself rocking into his mouth, your fists holding tight to the blanket on either side of you as you begin to give short, rasping cries as you stare at him.

"Give into it," Joel demands. "Come on my fucking tongue, pretty eyes."

Pretty eyes.

There it is.

You feel a cascading pleasure move through your limbs like water. Subtle at first, but then it spreads so quickly, so different than orgasms you’ve ever experienced. More potent, flooding the length of your body. The sensation is so overwhelming that you jerk at the waist, a loud wail of release echoing within your bedroom as you tremor against Joel’s waiting mouth.

You fall back, your eyes on the ceiling as you come down from your high breathing raggedly. You feel Joel’s warm hands slide down your waist, dragging along your legs until they reach your ankles. That's where they lift off, the warmth of his touch gone. Normally you would raise up, you would make some attempt at conversation. But this is Joel Miller and something tells you he doesn't care for it.

You know he won’t say goodbye. He won’t even acknowledge that he’s made you come so spectacularly you’re ruined for any future encounter. But when you finally raise your head and see your empty room you don’t feel as alone.  

The book, Jane Eyre, sits on your side table.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours.

Chapter 9: Paint me a picture of who you are Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.2k Warning: I don't think there are any here? Just so much fluff. Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: An unexpected invitation from your neighbour leads to a wonderful day out and a magical evening at her house. How far will Wanda dare to go, when she has you all to herself? Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8 ; Part 9; Part 10; Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

The next morning you woke up with a clearer head and a determination not to waste your thoughts on negative things. Yes, you’d had a few bad days and you were feeling down lately, but everyone had such days from time to time. It was normal. But you didn’t like to dwell on those things and you always thought of yourself as a problem-solver. So if you felt lonely, perhaps the best thing to do was to simply find yourself a date. There had to be single women in Eastview, right? With that in mind, you made yourself your favorite coffee and you picked out a comfortable outfit for the day, just denim shorts and your favorite t-shirt, ready to actually go through with your plan, when your doorbell rang and startled you out of your thoughts.

You swung the door open only to see Wanda, wearing her casual clothes for the day and a bright smile on her face and just the sight of her, the mere thought of her positivity somehow lifted your mood. God, how did she do that?

“Hi, Y/N!” Her smile grew brighter, flashing her pearly teeth. “I hope this isn’t a bad time?” “No, of course not, come in!” You smiled back, moving your body out of the way, so the woman could enter. “Would you like a cup of coffee, or something to drink?” You offered, heading towards the kitchen. “Oh, no… I came for just a moment.” She explained, seaming a little nervous. A look you hadn’t seen on her yet, making you curious. “I’m actually planning on taking the boys to the park this afternoon. They’re having some sort of fest, so there’s going to be music, ice-cream, cold drinks… I thought to make a day of it and I was hoping you’d like to join us? If you don’t have any other plans, of course.” She asked, playing with the rings on her fingers. “Oh…” Now that invitation stunned you for a moment, not really expecting it. “That sounds really fun, actually.” You agreed, after thinking for a moment. “Thank you for thinking of me!” You smiled at the woman. “Of course I did. You’re our favorite new neighbour.” Wanda’s smile somehow widened, happy to see you agree. “You’re too kind, Wanda.” You tried not to blush, looking away from to woman, so you could compose yourself. “When should I be ready?” “Oh, I’ll put the boys to bed around two, and they usually need maybe an hour-hour and a half, so we should be ready to go at about 4:30? Is that ok?” She asked, not letting you even start a sentence, before she changed her mind. “You know, how about we come over to pick you up? Just in case we run late?” She suggested, stepping a bit closer to you and licking her lips, before she caught herself and stepped back. “Sounds perfect. Should I bring anything? I don’t have much toys, but I have a big picnic blanket?” You offered. “I think that’s a great idea.” Wanda smiled. “And as much as I like to stay and chat, I have to go make lunch. But I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” Wanda smiled, waiting politely at the door for you to let her out and turning, when she was at your gate, so she could give you a wave, before you closed your door.

The thought of a day out made you smile and your thoughts quickly filled with plans and preparations, perhaps finishing some choirs, before you go out and you turned on your sound system, picking out a playlist. Yes, the positive thoughts were really helping. You were already feeling much better, you decided, excited for the afternoon.

In her house, Wanda listened in on your thoughts with a sigh of relief. This little distraction should keep you away from dating apps at least for a bit. And if Wanda played her cards right, she wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer. The important thing was that she’ll have you to herself today.

* * *

Putting the boys to bed left Wanda with nothing but time on her hands. She was excited about this afternoon with you and she wanted to make the best impression, so she rummaged through her closet, looking for the perfect outfit and she settled on a floor-length yellow skirt and a white, modest v-line top, tucked inside the high waist. She looked like sunshine personified, the colour bringing out her features.

She felt a little silly, getting all dressed up to impress a girl, but she couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach at the prospect. You weren’t just any girl. She knew so much about you, about who you were, she had shared so much with you, even if you didn’t always feel her presence or know that she was there. You were special, she just knew it. She could feel it, from the first time she listened in on your thoughts, back when you were just settling in your house. There was something about you, and now she knew what it was, now she knew, that she needed you, needed to have you, so it only felt right, to put in the time and effort you deserved.

To make the preparations easier, Wanda packed a bag for the boys ahead of time. She put in their favorite snacks, plenty of water, a couple t-shirts, just in case, she packed a ball and a Frisbee for them, making sure they’ll have plenty of entertainment and she waited for them to wake up from their nap.

Just as she predicted, or perhaps, because she told you to expect them around 4:30, that’s exactly when they knocked at your door. Their happy faces greeted you, immediately making you smile as well and you quickly grabbed your things.

Wanda looked radiant, easily drawing your eyes to her and bringing a slight blush to your cheeks at how shamelessly you were staring at her, but you just couldn’t help it. The woman was magnetic, she had something inexplicably attractive about her that went beyond her looks.

The boys kept coming up with ideas the entire way there and they excitedly asked you to play all sorts of games with them, something you happily agreed to, almost making their mother jealous for your attention. If she wasn’t happy that you got along with her children so well, perhaps she would have even said so, but she knew that she’ll have plenty of time with you for herself.

When you reached the park, already full of people and buzzing with activities, you decided to look through the booths with food, shops and music, making mental notes about where you wanted to return, before you set down your picnic blanket a little farther away from the noise, preferring to settle closer to the many other families with children and pets, who also decided to spend a day out in the sun. It was full of young couples too, teenagers who grouped together… It seemed that the whole town of Eastview had come out today and it gave the place a lively atmosphere.

“Now boys, don’t you run off where I can’t see you.” Wanda instructed with a serious tone, watching both boys nod and give mumbled confirmations, before she let them play, their toys already in their hands. They seemed to find a game quickly, running through the grass happily, and you watched Wanda sit down next to you on the blanket with a sigh. “Where do they find all that energy?” She asked with a chuckle. “Afternoon naps and life unburdened by responsibility?” You asked, only half-joking. “I think you might be right.” She agreed, her smile widening. Her eyes followed them with an adoring look, an almost glow that gave her a dreamy quality and you hurried to look away, before she caught you staring. “By the way, thank you for coming with us today.” Wanda changed the topic, her hand darting out to rest over yours for a moment, before she pulled away. “I always get so overwhelmed coming to these things alone.” “My pleasure. Although I can’t believe you have a hard time finding company. You’re always so nice.” You said, shuffling in your spot nervously.

It was often like that, Wanda knew. She had to be patient, chipping away at your initial awkwardness and shyness, until she felt you were relaxed in her presence. She could hear your mind buzzing with thoughts and anxieties, fighting through years of feeling awkward around people you didn’t know well and she helped you move past it all, always kind and soft with you.

“Company I like…” Wanda emphasized. “That’s hard to find. And I like you very much, Y/N.” Wanda tried to say the words casually, knowing she was taking a risk. But in the end she reasoned with herself that it was the truth and it felt right to tell you. “See? I told you you’re very nice.” You smiled, trying to hide the way her words affected you, secretly wondering if she was flirting with you. “Would you have preferred it if I was mean?” Wanda raised a playful eyebrow. “Probably not.” You smirked. You couldn’t picture Wanda as mean.

For a moment Wanda was tempted to show you the kind of mean she could be, but she knew it was too early, so she filed away the thought for a more appropriate time and decided to meet your words with a soft chuckle and change the subject to something more casual.

“So why don’t you tell me about work?” Wanda said with a curious expression. “It seems to be going quite well?” “As well as it can be expected at such an early stage.” You explained, a little reserved to speak on the subject.

But Wanda had you opening up in no time and the topics shifted quickly, and soon you were sharing funny stories about past co-workers and then just stories about life. She was good at doing that. Making you feel at ease, feel safe with her, feeling like you could trust her. And soon enough the two of you were speaking like old friends, eager to share more, your laughter only interrupted, when the twins ran up to you both and practically threw themselves on the blanket.

“Hey, mom.” Tommy started, mischief in his eyes. Billy was right next to him of course, the same look on his face as well and you found yourself eager to see what the two of them had cooked up. “Yes?” Wanda smiled, seemingly knowing what was going to follow. “Can we have ice-cream please?” The boy asked, giving his mom the biggest puppy dog eyes. “Please?” Billy chimed in, mirroring his brother. They were adorable.

Wanda could only laugh, being used to their ways. Those two loved ice-cream and she already knew that she would let them have some, even before they had left the house, so she easily agreed.

“All right, you can have ice-cream.” She smiled, rummaging through her purse to find her wallet. “Why don’t you let me go get them?” You suggested. “What do you guys want?” You asked the two kids, that looked at you with amazement. “Rocky road!” They both exclaimed, a little more excitedly than you expected. “What about you, Wanda?” You asked the woman. “Why don’t you surprise me? Pick whatever you think is nice.” “All right… Coming right up.’’ You smiled, getting up from your spot and finding your way to the ice-cream stand, where parents and children were already waiting in line.

Returning with 4 ice-creams and a wallet proved harder than you expected, but you managed to carry them to the blanket, where Wanda and her sons already waited for you, the boys taking theirs off your hands as soon as you were within reach.

When they thanked you properly, something their mother insisted on, they dove right in, talking amongst themselves, while Wanda took the cones from your hands, so you can sit properly next to her, much closer to her than you were the first time around, now that you were 4 people on the blanket.

“So what do we have here?” She asked, as she looked at the content in the cones. “One is caramel, the other is pistachio.” You explained, smiling. “And which one is for me?” She asked slyly. “The pistachio, of course. You look like someone who would enjoy it.” “You’re right. I really do.” She smiled warmly, her words quickly confirmed by the twins.

When all the ice-creams were finished, the twins didn’t hesitate to pull you into a game. The four of you laughed at their crazy ideas, but you ended up indulging them, only allowing yourself to sit down, when they had fully exhausted you.

“Oh, poor girl.” Wanda laughed, when you crashed on the blanket. “Thirsty?” She asked as she looked you over. “God, yes!” You groaned, wanting to practically lie on the ground, but refusing to be that dramatic. “Let me get you something to drink.” She offered, ignoring the weak protest you tried to voice. “Boys! Come help me.” She called, taking their hands.

On the way, she must have explained what she was getting, because you heard exclamations and soon enough, they returned, one of them handing you a cup, while they cheered.

“Slushies!” They yelled, half of theirs already gone. “Thank you.” You smiled at Wanda as you took a sip, sighing at the delicious, cool liquid sliding down your throat. “That’s exactly what I needed.”

Your neighbour only hummed in understanding, taking her seat next to you and taking sips from her drink. She was so close, attentive as she listened to you and it brought a slight blush to your cheeks. She continued her conversation with you, happy to let the boys play as she got to know you a bit better. It didn’t bother her at all that she had known already some of the things you told her. It was better to hear them from your own lips anyway.

When the sun started to slowly sink, the four of you started to collect your things, giving yourselves some time to pass through the many booths and explore the fest better, before you left. Wanda found it adorable, watching you move through the crowd of people, stopping wherever she liked and giving her time to look through the many products. You seemed to have eyes only for her and she basked in your attention. You were such a charming girl, uninterested in the little trinkets and decorative objects. It was almost a shame, she had hoped to keep you longer with such distractions, but seeing it wasn’t your thing, you all headed home.

You were practically in front of their house, ready to say goodbye for now, when Wanda’s voice stopped you.

“Y/N, would you like to join us for dinner?” She asked, pulling her sons closer to her body. She was scared that you’d refuse and she wanted the comfort of their bodies. “I wouldn’t want to bother you?” You said, almost on instinct, but with a lot less conviction than you had done in the past, which gave Wanda hope that she might yet convince you. “No bother at all.” She smiled. “Yes, join us! We can play Mario after dinner!” The boys exclaimed.

Normally, Wanda would at least think about letting them play, but they had behaved well today and their invitation seemed to weaken your resolve further, which she found most welcome, so she decided to let it slide. And seeing that the whole family was happy to welcome you into their home, you agreed. You had such a lovely time with them, laughing more than you had since you moved to this town, so you happily followed them into their house.

It was a little smaller than yours, but it had such a warm, welcoming atmosphere, that you found it charming. Something you didn’t miss saying to Wanda. The twins, of course, tried to steal you away, wanting to show you their room and their board games, but Wanda claimed you for herself, asking you to help her cook.

She was so captivating in this setting, confident and easy-going as she effortlessly bossed you around, which you were more than happy to permit. It dawned on you again, how close she was being, how her touches lingered, how easy it was for you to return the gestures, teasing comments making her chuckle. You felt lucky that her directions helped you feel at ease, like you had something meaningful to do and the preparations passed quickly and soon you were all settled around the dinner table, chatting about the day that you had.

You weren’t surprised that the food was delicious, or that the happy chatter filled your heart with joy. You couldn’t remember ever having that in your life. You were raised by a single mother, a woman of ambition and high expectations, so your dinners never looked like this, casual and care-free. Your partners never brought that atmosphere either, it was never cozy and light-hearted and the scene brought a sense of longing within you. A life of your own that would look like that some day.

Wanda didn’t miss the look on your face or the accompanying thoughts and she wished to tell you that it was with her that you could find all that. It broke her heart a little, to know that you had longed for a family like this, just as she did, for most of her life. It made you kindred spirits, you and her. It was only right that you would find what you missed in each-other. A thought that comforted her and gave her hope. But she couldn’t let you dwell on such dark things. She wanted to see you smile and enjoy this moment with her and her family, so she pulled you out of your thoughts and into a conversation, until you no longer felt sad and when the dinner was finished, she let you and the boys play, just like they wanted, while she cleaned up her kitchen, her glance often falling on the three of you with a sparkle of hope and adoration, eventually joining you and only daring to interrupt it all when it was way passed the boys’ bedtime.

“Enough play for tonight, boys, I want you in your PJ’s, teeth brushed and into your beds in 15 minutes.” She instructed, her words met with protests from the twins. “But mom!” They pouted. “Just 5 more minutes?” “It’s way passed your bedtime.” Wanda reminded. “But Y/N is here!” They tried again. “I said, it’s time for bed.” The redhead insisted, tone hardening and head tilting a little to the side. It was rare for them to test her patience like this. “If you’re good and do as you’re told, I’ll let you come down and say goodnight to Y/N later.” She offered, as a way to soften her words. “Fine.” The boys grumbled, but got up from their spots and headed upstairs, waving at you, before they disappeared from your view. “Should I go too?” You asked, as soon as they had left. “It’s getting late and I don’t want to impose.” “Of course not. Just give me a few minutes to put them to bed and then you and I can have a glass of wine. How does that sound?” She offered with a smile you couldn’t quite decipher, something playful and even a little flirtatious flickering there. “Sounds lovely.” You agreed, returning her smile, your eyes lingering on her body, when she turned around and headed upstairs, so she can follow the boys.

As Wanda disappeared from your view, you couldn’t help but bite your lips. Watching her sauntering away did sinful things to you and you had to cross your legs to find some kind of relief. It was terribly wrong to think of her that way, you knew that. The woman was being so sweet and kind to you, inviting you into her home and at her table and you didn’t want to repay her by taking her good-natured actions as something more and fall from her graces.

Just a floor away, Wanda listened to the racing thoughts in your head with a smirk. Poor girl, all flustered and confused, you didn’t know how to handle all those mixed emotions. But she would help you. She’ll show you exactly what her intentions really were and she’ll guide you, until you were ready.

With that in mind, she helped her sons prepare for bed and when they had put on their pyjamas and brushed their teeth, she walked with them downstairs, to let them say goodnight, watching them wave at you and repeat their good night wishes a few times, before they went back upstairs and climbed into their beds.

Wanda tucked them in, placing a loving kiss on their foreheads and lingering for a few minutes to talk to them, smiling when most of their words started to get swallowed by yawns and she turned off their light, peaking a few seconds longer, before she closed the door.

“You know, they really like you.” Wanda said as she joined you in her living room, elated to see you seated comfortably. She had imagined you here so many times, but now that you were, she couldn’t quite decide what she wanted to do next. “I really like them too.” You said honestly, sitting up a little straighter in her presence.

God, those manners of yours. Back always straight, shoulders squared, chin high… She loved the elegance of it, she couldn’t deny it. But she wanted to see you relaxed, so she went into the kitchen and got a couple of glasses from the shelf.

“Do you like red wine, or white?” She asked, as she glanced at the glasses in her hands pointedly. “White.” You answered as you followed her movements with your eyes. “Do you need any help?” “Not at all. You sit comfortably, sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”

So sat there you did. You felt a little nervous now, when it was just the two of you. You weren’t sure what you should talk about, the tension building within you with every passing second she was silent and you didn’t even know why.

“There you go, darling.” Wanda finally spoke, offering you the glass of wine and sitting next to you on the couch, the space between you much smaller than you expected. “Thank you, Wanda.” You smiled, taking a sip of the liquid and holding the glass in your hands as you looked at the other woman. “I have to thank you. I’m really glad you came with us today. Even more so that you stayed for dinner.” Wanda smiled back. “I love my boys more than anything, but sometimes it’s nice to have a grown person to talk to.” She confided. “You don’t have many friends?” You asked, perhaps more bluntly than you should have. “Not really…” Wanda shook her head. “How come?” You found yourself asking. “When I had the boys, they became my whole world. I closed myself off… Perhaps that was my fault. I didn’t give myself or others many chances.” She said with a thoughtful look of her face.

There were many questions you could ask her on the topic, but it was such a vulnerable moment, a quiet reflection you didn’t want to disturb.

“I understand.” You nodded instead. “I think it’s brave.” You added, taking another slow sip. “Only you would find something positive in that.” Wanda chuckled a little. “We have to find the positive things in life. Without them, there’s very little left to live for.” “You have the soul of a poet.” Wanda noted. God, she loved that about you. “Do you write?” “I used to… I haven’t in a while.” You said, thinking of what made you stop. “But I’m in the presence of an artist and I haven’t seen any of your paintings yet.” You suddenly remembered. “Then perhaps this is a good time.” The redhead smiled, getting up and offering you her hand.

She helped you stand, waiting patiently for you to leave your glass on the small table and refusing to let go of you, as she started to lead you through the quiet house, steady and unwavering as she moved through the dimly lit rooms. It was a sort of seduction of your senses, the way your eyes adjusted to the softer lights, the way the air grew cooler as she led you further in, the way she paused in front of the closed door… All magnetic and irresistible. The feeling of her skin against yours, warm fingers almost intertwining with yours as she let you enter and she turned on the lights, illuminating the space. If you had any words in you to speak, you would have written her a poem.

There were canvases everywhere, paintings hanging off the walls, or leaning against them, the room permeated with the smell of the wooden frames and the dye that she used. In the centre there was only a chair and an easel with a painting she was yet to finish.

It was a broken mask, the two pieces barely held together by what was left of it. The left side was painted in pristine white, the lines clear and the surface perfectly smooth and unblemished. The right however was in dark red and black, little pieces were chipped away here and there, the whole thing cracked and twisted, almost grotesque, yet somehow seductive. It was gorgeously painted and it left you in awe.

“I love the idea of it.” You mused. “And the mask design is so unique. How did you come up with it?” You asked, noting the high raised ends, resembling horns, although they were very different too, complimenting their respective sides. “It just came to me.” Wanda said with a note of avoidance, but you didn’t think much of it.

Your eyes scanned the room, looking at the rest of her work. She had so many paintings of her sons, which you found unsurprising, yet so sweet.

“I love this one.” You said with a fond smile, looking at a painting of the twins, both of them curled in a hammock in her back yard. They looked so cute, exhausted and sleeping in the shade of the tree. “They’re adorable.” “Yeah, they were so cute.” She smiled fondly.

Wanda stood behind you, while you looked through her work. She listened to your thoughts, as much as the comments you made out loud, her eyes following your movements and wandering your body. You looked more at ease now, more open to her and she felt her fingers tingle with anticipation and desire to touch you, to trace your neck, your shoulders, to hold your hips and your waist, to pull you close to her and breathe you in. And her senses told her you’re ready for it, you were primed and waiting for her to make her move.

As you continued to look, you found a painting that intrigued you, one of a woman, beautiful and gentle, hovering over a bed, her arm outstretched and stroking the hair of another woman, who lay there, unsuspecting. She appeared to be sleeping, calm and undisturbed by the figure that watched over her, sheets barely covering her naked breasts. The painting looked intimate, it reminded you of gothic paintings of vampires, beautiful and seductive as they devoured their victims.

“Do you like that one?” You heard Wanda’s voice. She had gotten closer, her words almost whispered in your ear.

You were suddenly hyper-aware of her presence behind you, the way her body radiated soothing warmth. And she was getting closer by the second, one of her hands resting on your shoulder, while the other fell on your hipbone, gentle, yet impossible to ignore. She was right behind you now, almost entirely pressed up against you, her head bowed, so she could breathe you in.

“I do.” You managed a small nod, gathering all your bravery, so you could turn in her arms and face her.

You don’t know when this moment turned charged with unresolved tension. It was almost like it snuck up on you, but as your eyes scanned the painting, it was starting to fall into place. God, she was so close, her touch full of tenderness, yet firm.

She was so tempted to spin you around, pin you up against the wall, but she held back. She needed to make sure that you want this, so she waited patiently, listening to your scattered thoughts as you realized what this moment meant.

When you finally moved, your eyes searching hers, you almost gasped. Had she always looked at you like that? You couldn’t tell. Her hands were wrapping around you again, steady and firm as they pulled you into her and her hand moved up, so she could cup your cheek.

“Wanda…” Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you looked into her eyes. She was captivating. “Such a beautiful girl.” Wanda mused, her thumb stroking your cheekbone.

Her eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips, leaving her almost breathless with desire. She wanted to kiss you so badly, to show you the depth of her passion for you, leaning in closer with every second as she held you.

“I want to kiss you.” She stated boldly, leaning even closer.

You barely nodded, breath caught in your lungs as you waited for that moment when she closed the distance between you. The anticipation was almost unbearable and you almost whined as you looked up at her, your arms pulling her flush against you and clinging to her back. It was then that she finally pressed her lips to yours. Her kisses were slow and gentle, and from the first moment you felt them, it was like the whole world disappeared. All you could feel was Wanda. The way her grip tightened a little, the way her breath hitched at the feeling of you, the intoxicating way in which she smelled and tasted. It was heavenly.

When she pulled away, just enough to look at you and she took you in, she knew she was addicted. She wanted to see you like this every day. She’d give almost anything to have you like this every day. Yes, this felt right. So she kissed you again, this time with more passion, her hand moving to hold the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair and scratching at your scalp. God, you were driving her crazy. You were so soft, so pliable in her hands, your lips parting for her as soon as you felt her tongue glide against them, asking for permission to deepen your kiss.

She kissed you like this for a few long minutes, exploring you and savouring you, holding you as you almost trembled against her, quiet moans leaving your throat and making her feel lightheaded. Holding you in her arms was so much better than she ever imagined, better than any fantasy you could conjure up, better than her wildest dreams. Having you in her arms was what she was missing all these years, what she had been chasing with random women and meaningless flings. You felt right.

It took everything in her to pull away, to ignore the inner voice that screamed at her to pull you back into her embrace and kiss you, until your lips hurt.

“That was…” You tried to find the right words for what you felt, but truly there were none. “Yes.” She nodded, stepping closer again. The pull between you was magnetic and Wanda could hardly resist it.

In an act of bravery, it was you who closed the distance this time, your arms wrapping around her neck as you stood on your tip-toes. You felt exhilarated, melting against her body and letting her hands roam wherever they wanted. It felt so good to be touched by her, to be kissed by her, to let yourself really experience her.

It didn’t take long for Wanda to once again deepen the kiss and she was soon pushing you backwards, her hand holding your head protectively as she guided your bodies to the nearest wall and trapping you there. She could feel paintings around her, but she didn’t care. Your body was her only focus and she wanted to explore every part you’ll allow her to.

She took hold of your thigh next, an arm wrapping around it and pulling it up, securing it around her waist and settling between your legs. Bold and filled with lust, she sneaked her hand under your t-shirt, her fingers touching the skin of your abdomen and making you gasp.

She was just about to move higher, cup your perfect breasts over your bra, when a painting fell from its place against the wall, crashing loudly and startling you both from the trans you were in.

Wanda stepped away from you swiftly, both your heads turning up and ears attuning to the sounds in the house, waiting to see if all the noise had woken the twins, but when no sound came, you finally breathed in relief and you giggled, looking at each-other, a moment of pleasant silence passing between you.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.” Wanda sighed. “You have?” You asked, hope filling your eyes. “More times than you can imagine.” Wanda smirked. “I’d like to show you that. If you let me take you out on a date.” “I’d love that.” You smiled, after only seconds of thought.

It seemed to you that Wanda wanted to say so much more than that, yet she remained silent as she looked at you, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from her kisses. If you could read her mind, you’d know that it was exactly how she pictured you, every time she thought about making you hers, but since you weren’t, you cleared your throat, trying to sound at least a little more composed than you felt.

“I should probably go.” You said shyly. “That’s probably best.” She confirmed. “Otherwise I might be tempted to do that again.”

You could only blush at her words, not really sure what to say. So instead, you finally let your gaze move away from hers and to the painting on the floor that had interrupted the best kiss of your life.

It faced down and you picked it up, turning the canvas towards you, only to see blue eyes, deep and kind, sparkling as if alive, looking back at you, piercing your very soul. You could read so many emotions there, like they spoke to you… Or they would. But they were surrounded by red, face almost entirely swallowed by it. Mysty and overwhelming. Like smoke, that suffocated everything that it touched, it took over the rest of the painting, leaving only the eyes, that continued to stare at you, as if pleading for you to understand what they were trying to say, as if reaching out and into you.

“That painting…” You gasped. “That’s a little dark, I’m sorry.” Wanda said, her mood suddenly shifting. She looked almost uncomfortable that you looked at the painting and you put it down, trying to be respectful of her. “No, its… Breathtaking.” You said, trying to convey the awe you felt for what you saw. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Wanda, it’s gorgeous. And you’re so talented.” “Thank you.” She forced a smile. “It’s really old. One of my first real paintings, actually.” She confessed, refusing to really look at it. “Well, I think it has real soul. It’s touching.” You said, turning to leave the room, much to Wanda’s relief.

She had forgotten that this painting was there and she was glad that you didn’t ask about it. She was terrified to tell you that the eyes you stared at, those soft, kind eyes were Vision’s. She was terrified to tell you what he meant to her, or what happened to him. It was too soon for such things and she didn’t want to scare you away, so she followed you out of the room and she walked you to the door, pulling you towards her one last time and brushing some hair away from your face.

“Today was lovely, Y/N.” She said softly. “When will I see you again?” She asked, wanting to secure her date with you and show you just how serious she was. “Maybe you can come over with the boys for another pool party tomorrow?” You asked smiling. “That sounds wonderful.” Wanda practically beamed at the prospect of seeing you in a bikini and spending an entire day with you. “See you tomorrow then.” You pulled away, only to be stopped by her hand.

She held you close to her again, looking down at you and into your eyes, before she kissed you again, deeply and fully, before she released you with a sigh and let you open the door, watching you walk away and entering your house.

When you finally disappeared from her view, she closed her front door, leaning against it with the biggest grin on her face. She had kissed you. And it was magical.

[domesticcaboose]

“Hey, it’s Bradley”

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Gn Reader

TW: Cursing, like a lot of cursing

A/N: it’s my first time actually posting my writing on here so pls be nice! Also, feel free to mention anything we need to fix grammatically. Proofreader and coauthor is @lunamoon1744

“Hey, uh, it's Ro-Bradley. It's Bradley. Fuck it’s probably late where you’re at. Sorry, I just, fuck, look, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I loved you, love you, still love you and I know this is a shitty way to go about it but there’s a mission and I don’t know whether I'm going to make it back, but I was back at Top Gun for a few weeks, and God, all I could think about was us, you, and how much I love you and how much I fucked you over and I’m sorry. God I'm so fucking sorry an’ I’m not asking you to forgive me but I can't die without apologizing, without letting you know that leaving you was the worst decision of my life and if I could go back I’d-, fuck I’m running out of time, I just, I love you so fucking much and I, I gotta go, fuck, I’m sorry, I love you.”

Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster. God, you loved him, and he had broken your heart. It’d been a few years since the breakup, and honestly you're surprised he still knows your number. Lord knows you had to look back into your contacts to figure out whether he called you through his phone, or someone else's. It was probably the ship's phone, seeing as you still had his cell number in your contacts.

It probably doesn't matter by now. If he went on the mission right after he called you, that would have been 15 hours, 48 minutes, and approximately 56 seconds ago. You begin pacing back and forth across the house. If he was going to die, he’d already be dead, and if he was going to live, he’d already be back on the carrier. Plus, there was no guarantee he was even going back to Top Gun, he could be going straight to his next assignment. You stop dead in your tracks. He could be dead.

Then again, that was the problem wasn't it? It didn't really matter, you would go to the ends of the Earth if he had asked you to, if he had so much as implied that he needed or wanted you to. Maybe that's why you had already finished packing, bag already by the door, heart already knowing what your head was trying to figure out.

Leaning over the kitchen island, you pull out your laptop and start looking for any possible flights to anywhere even remotely close to San Diego and Top Gun. A few hours that pass over your nerves like shitty tap dancers, about 50 tabs, and a coffee or three later you finally come across a flight. It's expensive, significantly more than you would ever pay normally, and through an airline you've never used before. It's also leaving in an hour from an airport 49 minutes away. Taking a deep breath, you say fuck it and start typing your credit card numbers in, because you are tired and desperate and you just need to be there in case he did come back.

God, you hope he's alive.

It was a seven and a half hour flight and a two hour drive, having booked the first flight you found to anywhere close by. You had a bit of a drive to get to Top Gun, but you honestly can’t remember much of your trip. How can you? For all you know, you're doing all of this for a funeral that you're not even sure you would be invited to.

You're not completely sure how you ended up in front of the Hard Deck. Well, that's a lie. You know damn well why you stopped here before trying to find a hotel. It's an aviator's bar. It's where the aviators go after work. You’d been here with him the first time around. When you were dating. When you thought you were going to marry him.

It's stupid, and emotional, and childish to stop. It’s been a little less than two days since he made the phone call, and if he is alive he'd still be on the ship, or in a hospital somewhere. That didn't stop you from walking in, from looking around, from ordering a drink, from sitting down and waiting on some distant hope that he'd pop through the door. You haven't actually figured out what you're going to do when you see him again. But fuck if that didn't mean you still wanted to see him.

It was another three days of watching and waiting, of sitting at the bar with Penny, of wondering whether or not the last actual conversation you will ever have with the love of your life was when you broke up, when he told you he never loved you.

It's your fifth day in San Diego, when you see his Bronco in the Hard Deck parking lot. You know that fucking car anywhere and you know for a fact that if it was here then Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was alive. Which means he could have damn well called you and informed you of such!

Taking a deep breath, as to not preemptively jump to conclusions, and to not kill the first person that looks at you wrong, you hurry up and force your way through the Hard Deck’s doors, making a scan for tall, brunette, and mustached.

It's not hard to find him. He is standing by a handful of other pilots and Penny. She's under who you assume is the pilot named Pete’s arm, looking very amused by your entrance. Bradshaw, on the other hand, is laughing lazily with his friends, like you hadn't thought he might be dead for the better part of the week.

“BRADLEY FUCKING BRADSHAW!”

The sound of pool balls clinking stops almost immediately, and you hear whispers arising from some of the pilots scattered around the bar. The man of the week looks in your direction, and while his eyes light up, his face falls as you start marching across the floor towards him. “...y/n?”

You feel multiple eyes on you as you stomp across the bar, and out of the corner of your eye you can also see a few heads turn. “What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you? The fuck was that phone call?” You come to a stop right in front of him, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Have you been landing too hard it’s starting to fuck with your head?” there's a snort on your right, coming from some Ken-doll-looking motherfucker. “Because that shit-”

“Y/n?”

“Is not okay! At all! You don't call someone, and tell them you love them, and that your sorry, and then just fucking disappear! Honestly! Give me one good fucking reason I shouldn't hit you upside your head, I swear to god-”

He interrupts you by pulling you into a tight hug and holding you against him, and you use every ounce of self control to not hug him back. He leans slightly back, looking into your eyes, and opening his mouth to speak.

“You came?” …you came? YOU CAME? What in the ever loving fuck did he think you were going to do after he called, go to brunch and have some fucking mimosas? Chill at the beach? Not lose your absolute goddamn mind?

“OF COURSE I FUCKING CAME!” You struggle in his arms before giving up and grabbing his shoulders in order to pull him down a bit so your eye level. “We may not have left on the best of terms, but I still fucking love you! Honestly, you could have called me at any point and I would have shown up because that's what you do when you love someone! And maybe that wouldn’t be my best discission but, fuck, I've never had a doubt that you would-”

“You still love me?” Maybe it was the way he said it, sounding like he was going to cry, or the way he looked like he was in complete shock over the fact that you still love him, even though he’s the one who walked away, but it makes your anger fade from the loud and explosive kind to the tired and worried one.

“Jesus fucking son of a fuck I swear to-” deep breaths, homicide is illegal and there’s witnesses, lots of witnesses, because almost everyone in the bar has turned to stare, nosey fucks. “-Yes. I love you, I loved you when we were dating, I loved you when we broke up, and I love you now, but, if you say one. More. Stupid. Fucking. Thing. I'm going to drown you in the ocean-” and it's true. You do love him. But it's also true that if he doesn't stop interrupting you, you are going to try and throw him in the ocean. It wouldn't work, you've tried it before, but it would make you feel better.

He smiles like a dumbass, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. He puts his hand on your cheek, leaning down and pressing your foreheads together. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, but I swear to god if you interupt me one more fucking time-” which, he of course decides to do by kissing you. Which, not to say that you are complaining, but it's hard to stay mad when he's kissing you like it's all he's ever thought about. Putting both of your hands on his chest, you lightly push him away. “-we’re not in a movie. Kissing me’s not gonna get me to shut up-”

“What if I kiss you multiple times?” And isn't that a tempting offer? But, as much as you love him, that phone call was the worst possible way of getting in contact with you again.

You narrow your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching ever so slightly up. “You can kiss me everyday for the rest of our lives, but it’s still not gonna stop me from thinking you're an idiot and calling you on it.”

“Promise?”

You can't help but to shake your head and smile. “Goddammit Bradley, I'm trying to be mad at you, you inconsiderate asshole. Yes, yes I promise, for as long as your dumbass wants to keep me-”

“Forever then.” And there it was, that stupid fucking smile that you loved. The one that made you stop yelling, at least for the moment, because he was alive, and he loved you, and he wasn't going to walk away this time. Sighing as you lean into him, the exhaustion of the week finally starts to catch up with you, but at least you know that he's safe.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Roses and Sparkling Water [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@hotchs-big-hands) Center (@brainstormingg) Right (@edwardian-girl-next-door)

Prompt: Aaron surprises the reader by stopping by her apartment after work to celebrate her first month of sobriety.

Pairing: [established relationship] Aaron x fem!non-BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: fluff/comfort 

Word Count: 4.3K

Content Warnings: Discussion of alcoholism/recovery [binge drinking, being drunk, hiding bottles, sobriety], food is mentioned, Aaron and the reader take a shower together, implied intimacy/sex. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi loves! Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The prompt this was based on was “Character celebrates a milestone of sobriety.” I wrote this because I am one month sober today! Much of what happens in this story is what I felt before and after deciding to stop drinking. I have my friends and followers (and Aaron) to thank for supporting me and helping me get so far. Y’all are amazing and I love you. If you find yourself relating to any of these things, please know I am proud of you. It is never too early or too late to reach out for help. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your week and thanks for reading. Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_y/c/e_’s = your color eyes 

_y/h/c_ = your hair color 

y/n had gotten home from work a half hour ago. It normally took that long for her to relax and be de-stressed enough to do anything enjoyable or productive. y/n didn’t want to be this stressed all the time, but things had piled on with life recently, and she was trying to accept it as best as she could. y/n was just lighting a candle and making a final cup of coffee when there was a knock at her door. y/n looked at the door confused. She hadn’t ordered anything on Amazon, and as likely as she was to get food delivered on yet another stressful day, y/n hadn’t gotten food either. y/n approached the door not sure what to expect. y/n looked out of the peep hole and her face broke out into a smile. This was the best kind of surprise that y/n could hope for. Without thinking about why Aaron was here, particularly with a dozen roses in hand, y/n threw the door open and said, “Hey, you. What are you doing here?”

Hotch stepped inside and moved forward, enveloping y/n in a tight hug. y/n breathed in his classic scent of cologne and shampoo. He had such a rich and deep scent. It was something akin to the smell of rain before a thunderstorm. The scent of green and dirt. It was something that y/n loved about him. Of course, y/n loved everything about Aaron. His smell was just a bonus. He still hadn’t answered her question, so y/n asked again, “So… why are you here? Did you come straight from the office?” y/n studied Hotch as if she was a profiler. He was still wearing his black slacks and white button-up. It looked crisp and well-pressed. y/n remembered a comment he had made on Saturday about picking up his laundry with Jack before he swung by to pick y/n up for an evening at his apartment. Apart from these articles of clothing, Hotch was missing his tie and suit jacket. It was an odd but becoming look on him, and y/n flushed at just how attractive he was in any state of dress. 

Aaron smiled at y/n and leaned in to place a kiss on her lips. It was soft and he relished the slight stickiness of y/n’s chapstick which she must have just put on. When Hotch pulled back he said, “I’m here to celebrate you, darling.” He watched as she got slightly flustered and looked at him. y/n was now concerned that she’d forgotten some milestone of their relationship. They’d been together officially for nine months, and they weren’t the type to celebrate each month being together. y/n smiled and loved being celebrated and getting flowers from Aaron, but the why was still a mystery. y/n smiled and said, “Well you’ve got me stymied. Why are we celebrating me? Is it my un-birthday or something?” Hotch pulled back and replied, “Well maybe it’s that, but I was thinking more along the lines of the fact that today is one month of you not drinking.” y/n’s _y/c/e_’s shot open a little more. She hadn’t expected Aaron to remember the date when she’d given up drinking as she hadn’t brought it up much. But y/n loved that Aaron paid such close attention to her and the things that were important to her. y/n shouldn’t have been surprised but was and smiled even more and said, “Honey, that’s so sweet of you. How did you remember?” 

Aaron took one of y/n’s hands gave it a squeeze and replied, “Sweetheart, when you decided you’d had enough I was incredibly proud of you. I know you only told a few people with me being one of them, and I know you don’t bring it up often, but I think it’s so important for you to feel accomplished in making it this far.” y/n let out a little laugh and said, “Aaron, it’s only thirty-one days. It’s not like a year or something. Every Saturday I still think about getting a drink at the bar. You must see it in my face sometimes. Or like before we go to bed.” Aaron nodded and gently took y/n’s chin in his hands so that y/n was sure to be looking at him. He was serious but not angry as he said, “I do notice, y/n. I notice every time I’m with you, and every time I see you choose to not go for a drink I’m so proud of you for that. I know it’s not easy. I want to highlight and celebrate all those times you’ve said no and let you know how strong I think you are.” y/n’s eyes began to water with emotions. She leaned into Aaron’s chest again. Hotch had placed the roses on the kitchen counter by this point with his long arms so he could more comfortably wrap his arms around his partner. y/n swallowed back the lump in her throat and said, “What have I ever done to deserve you, Aaron?” Hotch chuckled and said, “You never had to do anything to deserve me. We found each other and that’s all that matters to me. We give and take equally, if we didn’t this wouldn’t work.” Hotch pulled back again and asked, “So, would you like to do something to celebrate? I’m down for anything. I told the team and Strauss that I wouldn’t be available tonight. We could stay here or go out. I’m down for what you like.” 

y/n beamed at the idea of a night assured that Aaron wouldn’t be snatched away by work. y/n said, “Well, such an offer is too tempting to answer without thinking about it for a minute.” Aaron smiled and replied, “Well while you think about it how about I’ll get a vase for those flowers.” y/n looked at the flowers, almost forgetting that they were there with Aaron in front of her. She chuckled and said, “Okay. There’s something in that top cabinet that I can’t reach that would work to hold them. Thank you for bringing them. They’re so beautiful.” Hotch nodded and said, “Well, nothing’s more beautiful than you, but I’m glad you like them.” As the tall man approached the kitchen to look for a vase, y/n pulled the flowers in front of her face and inhaled the light floral scent. It reminded them so much of Spring and just how thoughtful Aaron was as a partner. He’d seen it all from day one. Her problems with drinking. The anxiety and stress of the recent move and new job. 

In fact, being with Aaron had been one of the main reasons y/n had quit. She had gotten sick of having to hide empty bottles when Hotch said he could stop by with or without Jack. It took work to throw away or hide five empty wine bottles or lug them out to the recycling. The hiding of the extant of her problem was also embarrassing. Every time she went to the recycling bin across the street, she thought that everyone she passed was looking and listening to the bottles clink on each other. On top of that, Aaron would always offer to drive her to work and she’d get into his car with either a headache or a hangover that she was badly hiding. The scent of Listerien must have been so strong in the small confines of the car. The problem that y/n had with drinking was that it never got so bad that she got in trouble. Not at work or with her friends. y/n was incredibly lucky that her binge drinking late into the night had only resulted in her showing up an hour late to work one day that wasn’t very important. She’d not even gotten a reprimand for it. 

The real impetus for change had happened in two waves. The first had been on a day that had been so bad and overwhelming that y/n had called Aaron in near hysterics. Once he had heard her in distress so bad that she couldn’t even talk, he’d dropped everything and come over. He found y/n in her bed in what looked like such emotional pain that it nearly broke his heart. Aaron sat next to her, rubbed her back, and whispered words of comfort while y/n tried to stop the tears seeping from her eyes. y/n sniffled and asked, “Can you get me some water from the fridge? Please.” Hotch nodded and got up. y/n had completely forgotten that she hadn’t taken care of the bottles of wine both empty and full, nor the plastic cup that she’d put back into the fridge the night before at 3:00 a.m. when she couldn’t force down one more sip. y/n was too upset to think about it right now. But when Aaron opened the fridge, he instantly noticed the bottles and cup on the side of the door. Hotch knelt down and made sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing right. He silently lifted the bottles to see which were full and which were empty. He knew that y/n had a drinking problem even though she never drank in front of him. It was easy to see even if y/n tried to hide it. But this was worse than he had ever imagined. It hurt Hotch to see y/n trying to drown out her pain like this. With the way she was right now, he could understand the desire to self-medicate, but he cared about her too much to see her hurting herself like this to not say something. But he’d save that conversation for later. He quickly got the water she had asked for and moved back to give it to her and cuddle her until she could explain why she was so sad. 

That Saturday, as Hotch and y/n went on their normal trip to the park for him to run and y/n to walk before picking up Jack from Haley’s, he brought up what he’d seen in her fridge earlier that week. y/n was confused at the beginning when Aaron didn’t start his normal stretching and jog, instead opting to walk with her. y/n looked at him and asked, “Are you feeling alright, love? Is your hip hurting you again?” Aaron gave his head a small shake as he said, “No, I’m good. I just wanted to talk to you about something.” y/n tipped her head to the side slightly. His tone was serious as was his expression. Suddenly y/n felt like she was under a microscope, and she was panicking. y/n wondered what she’d done and her brain came up with the worst thing imaginable like Aaron breaking up with her. So when he said softly, “I saw the bottles in your fridge, y/n, and I’m really worried about you.” It took y/n’s brain a few seconds of buffering to let Aaron’s words register. When they did, y/n instantly felt shame well up inside her. She’d forgotten about the fact that he’d looked at the fridge. y/n’s brain fired all its neurons for some kind of response but it was useless, and she said in a defeated tone, “I know I’ve got a problem. It’s bad and I feel bad about it. I’ve tried stopping so many times and it just never works. I can’t do the moderation thing. I’m sorry you saw that, I’m sorry I hid it, I’m just sorry…” y/n didn’t have anything more to say in their defense. y/n realized that what they had said wasn’t even a defense. It was just useless words that didn’t mean anything. At least y/n didn’t think they meant anything to anyone. But as Aaron walked alongside his partner, he felt a profound sadness yet strength at y/n speaking at all. He moved in front of y/n and stopped them in their tracks. y/n ended up running into him as her eyes were glued to the ground. y/n looked up at Aaron expecting him to be angry or upset, but he just looked concerned. y/n swallowed and said, “Why are you looking at me like that?” His facial expression wasn’t the one she had expected and it threw her off completely. She had almost hoped for anger. y/n was used to anger in response to her shortcomings. Empathy was so new to her that it felt wrong somehow.  

Aaron pulled both of them off the trail gently and to a nearby bench. When they were settled, and y/n was looking at him with concern, he responded, “y/n. I’ve only ever cared or been worried about you. Your drinking, which I’ve known about for a while now, never made me angry. It just made me sad that you were hurting so much and not telling me, or anyone. When I saw your fridge and just how much you were drinking it made me concerned for you. You were so upset and I just want you to be okay. I know it’s hard. It’s gotta be so hard, but would you let me help you? Can you tell me why it started? How it got like this?” y/n was a sniffling mess by now and nodded without saying anything. After she’d taken a deep breath and realized that Aaron didn’t hold the shame for her that she held for herself, y/n said, “Yes. I’ll tell you, Aaron. But can we not do this in the park? Maybe we could go to your house where there isn’t a bottle for me to be tempted by?” Hotch had to let out a soft chuckle at y/n’s statement and gave her shoulder a slight squeeze and the top of their head a kiss as he said, “Of course, love. Let’s go to my place where we can both relax and talk more privately.” A few minutes later the couple was settled on Aaron’s comfy couch and y/n started sharing. She thought that it would be hard to let out those feelings and the draw of the numbing effect that wine had on her. Although it was uncomfortable at the start, Aaron’s compassion and caring questions that dug at and begged to understand y/n on a deeper level allowed her to let him into the part of her life that she had kept hidden away for over three years. As y/n spoke, it was so clear to her that he’d loved her through all of her flaws and bad choices she’d made. Not only did he love her, but he tried to understand and be there for her pain. 

y/n was thrown from that memory when Hotch returned with a tall vase that would accommodate the flowers, and y/n felt like a giddy schoolgirl at just seeing him. Aaron couldn’t help but smile too as he said, “I’m never going to get tired of seeing that look on your face, y/n. I’ll have to stop by your place more often after you get home from work unannounced.” Aaron took the flowers from y/n and nestled them in the glass vase. y/n stood behind him while he did this, wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned into him. As Aaron arranged the flowers to their optimum fullness, y/n looked out the window and remembered just how pretty a day it was outside. It wasn’t too hot or cold, so y/n said, “I think I know what I want to do with our free evening.” Aaron looked over his shoulder and said, “Oh, yeah. What’s that y/n?” y/n replied, “Well I’d like to go to the park near your place, and then if you’re down we could go to that Italian place where we went to on our first real date?” Aaron turned around and relaxed into her embrace and said, “Darling anything you want to do tonight we can. Well, anything but go and have like five tequila shots.” y/n nearly choked laughing and said teasingly, “Oh my gosh, Aaron, you’re the worst. Plus you know I hate tequila shots.” Hotch smiled and leaned down to kiss y/n on the forehead. He loved how lowkey y/n was. He knew she’d understand the joke, if she wouldn’t have, he never would have said it. He pulled back and said, “Well maybe we can have some sparkling water instead. Now. Do you still have that blanket from when we had that picnic with Jack?” y/n nodded and said, “It’s in the hall closet. I washed it a long time ago. It might have moth balls by now, to be honest.” Aaron stepped toward the closet and said, “Well, we can shake them out when we get to the park if they’re there. Do you want to grab a coffee to go? I see you’re machine is still running.” y/n whipped their head toward the kitchen and said, “Shoot, I forgot about that. Thanks for the reminder. Do you want a cup too?” Aaron called out over his shoulder, “Yes, that’d be great.” As Hotch got the blanket, y/n pulled two cups from the cabinet and made the coffee. She then quickly grabbed her purse and sunglasses. y/n held the door open for Aaron and they both walked down to his car. 

In the park, the pair found a spot under a shady tree that was private but gave a view to a field where people were tossing a frisbee around and some dogs were chasing tennis balls in the lush grass. Aaron and y/n were quiet for a while as they both took in the lovely weather and coffee. When Aaron finished his cup, he set it on the quilted blanket and lay down to look at the sky. Seeing the expanse of Aaron’s chest so wide open, y/n set down her cup and made sure it stayed up before placing her head and upper body on his chest. Hotch snuggled y/n’s head into his chest a bit more and his hands found their place on her back and in her _y/h/c_ hair. y/n sighed contentedly into him, not in a tired way just a “I’m happy to be here way.” Aaron’s eyes gazed down to her back and shoulders and he said, “y/n, would you tell me why you decided to quit? I know you don’t make a big deal about it, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’d like to know.” y/n smiled into his chest and her mind flashed back to the second reason why she’d given up drinking. y/n’s fingers traced patterns over his skin and replied, “Well, it’s kinda silly, but I was just sick of being sick. I remember that Monday when I woke up as foggy as ever and I was thinking about how I only had one bottle left in the fridge and that I was going to have to walk to the store and buy another one to feel comfortable for the night because one bottle was never enough. And then I wondered if I had the money for it because it was the end of the month. And it thought about the type of power that alcohol had over my emotions and finances. It felt like it was controlling my life and I was sick of it. I had such better things to live for, like you and Jack and work. There was so much more to pay attention to in life. So I got out of bed that morning and poured all that I had out. Then I threw away all the bottles, immediately, so I wouldn’t be reminded of them. Let me tell you, I didn’t sleep for two days after that. It was pretty shitty.” y/n chuckled at how terrifying the choice had been for the first two days. Aaron listened and his face broke out in a smile as his hands ran up and down y/n’s back. He said, “Well I’m so happy for you. I see how much you’ve kind of come into yourself over this last month. I know it’s been hard, and yes I said that before, but you’re doing great, and I’ll keep supporting you however you need me to, tomorrow, next week, next month, until the end of time. I promise you that.” y/n looked up from his chest and gave his jaw a series of kisses that left Aaron fully flustered. 

When it got dark the pair moved to the restaurant where they were seated at a corner table inside. The place had little tea candles on the tables and Aaron, true to his word, ordered a chilled bottle of sparkling water for the table. He even asked for wine flutes like they were having champagne. y/n laughed slightly as he poured them both glasses and handed one over to her. y/n picked up her glass as did Aaron. y/n’s eyes lit up as they clinked glasses and he said, “Here is to my love and how proud I am of you.” y/n added, “Well here this should also go out to my love and just how amazing you are to me. I wouldn’t be here at a month sober if you didn’t remind me how happy I can be without drinking.” Aaron couldn’t help but flush a little. They both took a sip and as y/n set down her glass she smiled at him and said, “You know Aaron, as simple as you are, you can go all out on some things.” y/n winked at the bottle of sparkling water and Hotch chuckled saying, “Well, I only think I’m extra for the important things, and I think this is one of them.” Soon after that, their food came and they had a nice meal together reflecting on their relationship and how it had evolved over the months.

When the pair got back to y/n’s home, she turned to him and asked, “So, are you going to spend the night tonight? Was that calling out to the team and Director Strauss just a tonight thing, or could it maybe extend into tomorrow morning?” y/n gave him her best pleading eyes because it was so nice to have him around unexpectedly, and she wanted to capitalize on his time if he could get away with it. Aaron smiled and said, “Well, I let the team get away with being in the office late once or twice, I don’t know why I can’t follow suit once in a while.” y/n grinned and said, “That’s my rule breaker. Now…I was thinking maybe I could do with a shower. How would you feel about joining me?” Hotch’s eyes flashed dark with a desire for a moment and he said in a voice suddenly much lower, “Well, that sounds like a good idea to me. Let me get it running at a good temperature.” 

While Aaron was getting the shower set perfectly, y/n stripped down to nothing. y/n looked at herself in the mirror, glad to see her bold glow without the feeling of fuzziness from drinking, When Hotch said that the water was ready, she moved into the steamy room. Aaron’s eyes widened as she stepped past him and into the shower. She turned to face him and let the water cascade down her naked body. y/n loved the fact that she could freeze him like this, and she teased, “Are you going to stand out there in the cold love?” Aaron snapped out of his daze and he quickly stripped out of his clothes. y/n looked him up and down as he also got drenched from the shower. Aaron couldn’t stop himself and moved forward and began kissing her neck and shoulders. He stopped and asked, “Is this okay love? Do you feel like it tonight?” y/n smiled and ran a hand down his jaw and chest toward his navel. y/n nodded and said, “Of course I do Aaron. I want you like this whenever we can enjoy each other. Getting to be this close to you makes me feel so alive.” Aaron’s eyes roamed over her face again and he said, “Good, because I want to give it to you tonight and whenever you want it, y/n. Now let me get back to this very very important job.”

He moved back to sucking and nipping at y/n’s warm skin and his mouth moved lower to a more sensitive area. As his tongue started working the spot on her chest and his hands worked over his body as well, y/n leaned her head back and let out a gasp. y/n ran her hands through his short hair. As Aaron kept working fervently and lovingly, she realized how much better was to experience all things with a clear head. Especially when it came to scenarios like this. To feel Aaron taking care of her with such love and desire was the best feeling she could ever have. When they were like this, giving themselves to the other, the idea of a drink, no matter how good, would never even cross y/n’s mind. As y/n let out the first soft moan of Aaron’s name and his hands moved to her thighs, y/n gave into the passion of the night because when it came down to it, Aaron was the best drug of all.

Tag List: @tgskitten @geminitapestry @silk-spun

Want to be added to my tag list? Please see this post, CM Tag List (linked)

Want to request a fic or mood board? My requests are open. Please see this post before requesting, CM Request Post (linked)

Text Break Banner by: @cafekitsune

[medusas-musings]

Coffee's for (Elevator) Closers

(A/N) First fanfic on Tumblr! If you have any requests for one shots, feel free to message me, I'll come out with a list of what I write for soon! Also Gif not mine 🖤

As I walk down the crowded and unforgiving streets of New York, I curse myself for not leaving 5 minutes earlier to get this coffee run in time for the shoot today. My shoes barely graze the street as I do my best to push through the crowd and reach the building we’re supposed to film in today. I stop in front of the skyscraper, and I double check the address before turning around to use my back to push through the doors and feel the weather change from the cold streets of Staten to the warmth of a heater. My lungs take a breather as I stop in front of the double elevators with a socially acceptable distance from the only other person also waiting for a lift. I find less anxiety clouding my mind now that there’s someone else most likely getting to set as late as I am. I take a glance to my side to notice that it’s one of the guys starring in today’s shoot. My knowledge on the show and who they were was very limited; If I never got a job as an assistant, I would’ve never even heard his name, nevermind seeing him in person. The doors shift to open and I see him look up from his phone, and gesture it forward in a motion applying the gentleman’s value of “ladies first”. I give a nod and a small smile in return and I assume that’ll be the most of our conversation as I enter the elevator and put my back as firmly as I can to the rail. Normally, I would be gripping both hands onto whatever I can stabilize myself in whatever way possible, trying to stifle the irrational fear in my head. The least I can say is that moving to a big city can certainly become exposure therapy for a fear of heights and elevators.

However, it turns out my worst fears would only become realized as I suddenly jolted forward, doing my best to recover my balance and spill the least amount of coffee possible. My pulse quickens as I can’t feel the inertia of moving up or down gives me, which only strengthens my fear worse. A curse escapes my lips, as I put the trays of drinks into a corner and go over to the panel, pressing any button I can. While I want to believe one of these will be the magic answer to getting out of this hellbox, but I was then gently set me aside to accept the fact we were stuck by the man I shared the space with. “Here, hon, I got this.” He murmured, then hit a button with a phone icon above it, one I thought I’d never have a use for it. Even in the state I was in, I didn’t let how attractive the simple gesture was. In a moment, another voice came through the speaker, and the shaggy-haired man explained the situation to them; it’s as if he wasn’t freaked out but I couldn’t help but feel my hands shake and my breathing quicken.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He said, making sure his tone was tender. I looked up, remembering his name–Well, nickname–Q. Seeing him on set, he seemed so much more intimidating to talk to, so unapproachable. Right now though, I could tell he was doing everything he could to keep the young woman in front of him from having a breakdown. “Don’t worry, I used to be a firefighter, you’re in good hands. Just breathe” His deep brown eyes pierced into mine, making me have to keep my gaze to my shoes half the time he was calming me down. I caught a glimpse of his chest raising and did my best to mimic the rhythm, my lungs filling with stale elevator air.

My heart can’t stop beating regardless of how much calmer I felt in the predicament we were in. What set in for me was the fact that this was the man I not only worked under, but I would catch glances at while I ran around him, like a small treat to my workday. I couldn’t deny that this was a guy I had a bit of a “workplace crush” on, but I didn’t think I would ever be so close to him, let alone being alone together. My brain finally registers a comprehensive thought in my daze of anxiety, and I turn around and kneel in front of the coffees, scanning the orders until I pull out a plain black I hand over to Q. “Here,” I say. “At least someone should be able to get their drink on time.” I continue, hoping to bring a little less tension to…well, everything.

He gives me a chuckle as he takes the cup from me, our hands grazing just barely. Even in that small moment, I could feel how small my hand felt next to his. “I appreciate the speedy delivery, Miss…”

I tell him my name, filling in the gap of his sentence. “I’m one of y’all’s assistants today. Shit, I’m gonna get chewed out for getting there so late.”

“You’ll be alright, Sweetheart, I won’t let ya get in any trouble.” Q reassures me. The comfort he’s supplying me as well as the slight display of power both send a shiver down my spine. “All I want you to worry about is keeping calm, alright?” His eyes keep mine in such a gentle glance. I can’t help myself when I feel the heat in my cheeks rise.

“Thanks.” There’s a pause in the air as I let out a small chuckle. “I really didn’t expect to talk to you more than just getting your lunch order later.” I grasp at anything I can grasp for a conversation. Hell, if I’m gonna be stuck in a closed place with my attractive boss, I’m gonna make the most of the opportunity.

Q took a swig of his coffee before a slight smirk crept onto his face. “Well, I guess it’s one way to meet the cute coworker.”

My brows furrowed and my mouth became agape, as if I was going to say something but nothing came out. After my brain finishes rebooting from the shock. “Is this a way to get my mind off being stuck in an elevator?” I ask, a slight smile occurring on my face. It doesn’t feel like a real thing that happened, as if this was some nightmare turned lucid dream.

“A little.” he shrugs, taking another drink of his coffee. “But it’s not a lie. I’ve seen you around, I’ve been meaning to find a way to introduce myself. But when I finally get a break, you’re usually busy so…” Q trails off as he keeps his eye contact. It was astonishing how honest he could be with me without a hint of fear. You couldn’t pry information like that out of me if you tried. “Well, guess the universe helped you out.” I brush my hair out of my face, trying to mimic his levels of confidence. “So tell me, if you ever did have a chance to talk to me, what was the game plan?” Q lets out a hearty chuckle. “You realize 90% of the show is excuses to talk to strangers? The actual excuse to approach you would be easy. Like the coffee.” Q pointed to the tray. “I could make up some bullshit about saying my coffee tasted wrong then go with you to replace it. Probably buy you something too as a thank you.” My eyebrows raise, an amused smile spreading on my face.

“Impressive, I can tell you're a professional.” I say. “If we’re being honest here, I also thought you’re kinda cute too. I just figured it wouldn’t be anything…” I trail off, searching for the right words. “… realistic?”

“If I’m being honest, I have caught you staring once or twice. It’s the only reason I would lay it on so heavy.” I looked down with a smile on my face, slightly embarrassed, but enjoying the teasing words.

Before I could reply, we could hear a commotion on the other side of the door; the technician was here to help, prying the doors open with a crowbar. As we get out, I take my coffee trays from the elevator. “Hey.” I turn around to see Q standing over me. “Let me help you with that.” He takes the second tray from my hands, allowing me to feel so much more stable. I thank him and we go up a flight of stairs together, making small talk as he holds each door open for me. We get to set, and we place the coffees onto the table. No one bothers to fuss about coffee being late since Q walked in with me, a shield for any higher ups to take their drink instead of nagging me.

Before I could walk away to check what else I have to do, Q gently grabs my shoulder to get my attention. He has his phone in his hand, pointed towards me on a ‘new contact’ page. “Hey, I’d love to get your number, maybe plan something that isn’t in a 5 by 5 square foot box.” Q’s eyes look nervous while his smirk tries to give off the impression he’s as cool as a cucumber. Biting my bottom lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot, I take the phone from his hands. I put my number and name into his phone, but I can’t resist putting a green heart and an elevator emoji next to my name as a little inside joke. I give the phone back to him and he smiles at the name I used. “Thanks, I’ll see you around” Q concludes, waving to me with his phone in his hands before joining his co-stars.

I smile as I walk away, and I feel my phone buzz with a notification.

(New Number): Nice to meet you! And be your hero from that elevator encounter ;)

I quickly add the new number to my phone, knowing this isn’t a number I want to lose anytime soon. I may have to take the stairs for the rest of my life now, but at least I got to score a date with my hot boss.

[precioustarkey]

valentine's day surprise

au where drew is not an actor, but a barista? and in college?

summary: college can be hard, so having a place to escape can be refreshing.

warnings: none

monday morning. arguably the most dreaded time of the week. it was exceptionally difficult to pull myself out of bed this morning. i felt especially comforted by the warmth of the blankets wrapped tightly around me. however, the sound of my alarm was enough for me to throw the comfort out of the window as i smacked my phone angrily. i pull myself up, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to regain my sense of consciousness. 

i glance at the time: 7:36. the light in my closet nearly blinds me as i grab around for anything warm. i make my way to the bathroom, throwing my clothes on the toilet seat. when the warm water from the shower finally hits me i feel instantly rejuvenated. i carry on with my routine, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, etc. my professor cancelled my class for today, but i figured i may as well stick to my usual schedule. 

planning on doing assignments for my other classes, i pack my bag with everything i may need. throwing it over my shoulder and grabbing my phone, i make my way to the only thing that could save my sanity: the coffee shop down the street. cliche i know, but it has always been a goal of mine to be one of those mysterious girls who alternate between coffee shops in the city. 

actually, my mysterious girl fantasy is still in the works considering that almost every barista knows me by my name. i can feel my anxiety in the pit of my stomach as i see all of the red and pink hearts in the windows of every store coming and going. i am not one of those people who despises valentine's day, but i do worry my safe space will be crowded with couples due to the nearing holiday. i enjoy my time there more when it is mostly empty. 

when i step in the door, i am relieved by the warm air hitting my cold hands and face. i am also relieved to see that the crowd is no bigger than normal. my eyes then darted to see who was working today, and i immediately reconized the familiar smile behind the counter. "good morning, y/n," he greeted me as i made my way closer. my grin never leaves my face as i reply, "good morning, drew."

drew starkey. we go to the same university, but we come from very different sides of campus. i spend my nights studying for exams, and drew spends his nights going to frat parties and playing basketball. as much as i hate to admit it, i have grown quite fond of drew since our small talk in the coffee shop began. "do you want your old usual or your new usual?" he teases. i recently changed my order, and he was not happy that i threw off our routine. "new usual, please," i laugh, watching him playfully roll his eyes as he begins preparing my order.

"i have to say i'm shocked you're here so early," i comment as i lean forward, resting on the counter with my wallet ready. he lets out a quiet chuckle. "you have my schedule memorized? i'm flattered." now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "only because i'm here almost every day." "if that helps you sleep better at night," he teases. 

purposefully ignoring his comment, i grab the coffee from his hand, pulling my card out of my wallet. "don't worry about it," he says as he wipes down the counter where he had just prepared my drink. "drew, i'm not letting you pay for my coffee," i insist, handing him the card anyway. "consider it a valentine surprise," he smiles. "well, thank you very much starkey, i'll have to make it up to you," i wink, turning around and making my way to my favorite table. 

my schoolwork takes up about an hour and a half of my time. this time was also spent feeling intense stares in my direction. it was not unusual for drew to be flirty with me. i assume he is that way with most girls he comes into contact with, but the level of concentration he has on me today is new. i am almost uncomfortable. not because i feel unsafe, but because i immediately wonder what i have done to make him so interested. 

in my confusion, i slowly begin to pack up my things, and prepare myself to go back to my apartment. once again, i throw my bag over my shoulder, grab my empty cup and a few loose pieces of paper, and toss them into the trash can nearby. i look over to drew and give him a farewell smile. 

“hey, y/n, wait a second,” he says over the new crowd of people. i turned around curiously. “take this.” he’s holding a card in his hand. “what is this?” i tease, grabbing the card. “open it when you get wherever you’re going,” he grins, going back to his spot to wait on a customer who had appeared. 

i slide the card into one of the pockets on my bag and step outside, greeted by the chilly air. my curiosity is getting the better of me on what feels like the longest walk back home. when i finally see the familiar building, i am almost running to get inside. 

my bag thuds against the ground as i land myself at my desk. the card is still poking out ever so slightly. the ‘card’ being a folded up piece of paper. i quickly opened it to see drew’s messy handwriting. my heartbeat was getting quicker as i read his words: “to make it up to me, you could let me take you somewhere nicer than a coffee shop for valentine’s day.” his number was scratched at the bottom. 

the smile never leaves my face as i read the card again and again. my phone next to me, patiently waiting for his number to be entered. i decide against texting him until later in the day because of his shift. my thoughts race with wonder–had i made him nervous? is that why we shared so many awkward glances? 

maybe a date with drew starkey isn’t such a bad idea.

this is my first post please cut me some slack

[atticssmellgood]

could u please write spencer reid with male reader who hasn’t had a great childhood so he never experienced bubbles, coloring books or parks since his parents just never cared :( so he’s more childish than a normal adult but spencer js loves him and gives him all the color books and blows all the bubbles possible for him 😭

The Childish Kind of Love

Spencer Reid x Male!reader(he/him pronouns)

Summary: reader opens up about his childhood and Spencer does his best to fix what was broken

CW: mentions of childhood neglect, self conscious reader, a little angst, minor cursing

A/N: This is me coming out of my very random and long hiatus. I just kind of lost my motivation there for a little bit BUT IM BACK!! This is such a cute idea and I had so much fun writing this❤️

—————————

“God Y/N you’re such a child.”

The laughter at the table stops abruptly, three out of the four of you taken aback from the sudden quip. You look to your other friend sitting across from you at the table, a genuinely confused expression on your face.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes drill into your own and her voice is dripping with venom as she repeats herself.

“I said, you’re such a child Y/N.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, considering how abrupt the comment was and the fact that it came from none other than one of your closest friends. She had been a little quiet during the whole meet-up but you had just chalked it up to a late night out or a sour day. You certainly hadn’t been expecting this. She took your silence as an invitation to continue.

“I mean, I personally don’t even want to be around you anymore. All you ever want to do is talk about things like comic books and cartoons when the rest of us grew out of that shit by age seven.” She scoffed

You can feel your heart start to sink. You push yourself further into the booth seat, looking anywhere but at your friends.

“I…. I’m sorry I didn’t know I was annoying you guys with that stuff.” You press your lips into a thin line and swallow the growing lump in your throat.

She continued, ignoring the quiet apology.

“I mean seriously, you make dumb, unfunny jokes that we only laugh at because we don’t want you to feel bad about your childish sense of humor. When we hang out, it feels more like a babysitting job without the pay.”

You gain the courage to look at the other two of the group for some sort of sign that any of this was a lie. You were hoping it was all some sick joke and you guys could just go back to laughing and drinking coffee together like you usually would.

One of them just avoids eye contact, guilt written all over his face as he plays with his hands. The other looks like she’s trying not to laugh.

You can feel your heart breaking into little pieces at that moment. You clench your jaw in an effort to keep the tears in your eyes as you stood up. You internally thank yourself for deciding to sit on the outside of the booth, because at least now you can make a quick getaway.

“Well then,” you pull out your wallet and take out a couple of bills to pay for the coffee, slapping them on the cool metal table.

“Consider this your paycheck.”

Before they could say anything more, you promptly turn on your heal and make your way towards the exit.

——————

By the time Spencer got home, it was already dark outside and you had been crying for god knows how long.

The door opened with a slight squeak as light from the hallway illuminated the small apartment.

“Y/N?”

You could hear the floorboards creak when he stepped into the space, following the sound of the front door shutting with a click.

You stood up from your half-sitting-half-laying down position on the couch and immediately ran over to wrap your arms around his waist. After what happened this morning, all you wanted to do was hear his voice and feel his body heat.

He wrapped his arms around you in return, putting one hand under your shirt to rub soothing motions up and down your back. You could feel the tears coming back as you replayed what your friend said in your mind over and over.

“You’re such a child”

“The rest of us grew out of that shit by age seven”

“Spencer?” Your voice is slightly muffled by his shoulder when you speak, but he hears you.

“Hm?” He hums quietly.

“Do you think I’m too childish?”

He pulls back slightly to look at your face, his expression puzzled.

“No, why on earth would you ever think that?”

You avoid his eyes when you speak again. “It’s just-“ you stop and take a deep breath, realizing that this is something you want to tell him. It might do you some good to get it off your chest after all these years.

You pull away from Spencer and take his hand, leading him away from the front door and towards the couch. The two of you sit down on the small sofa, and you take another deep breath in preparation for this conversation.

“Earlier today I went out with my closer friends, and found out that hanging out with me is comparable to ‘babysitting without the pay’” you add air quotes to the last bit and let out a dry laugh.

Spencer stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You sighed and looked down at your hands, trying to figure out the right words to say.

“When I was a kid, my parents weren’t exactly…attentive to my needs.” You started, swallowing the oncoming tears “I was the result of an unplanned pregnancy so they never cared that much about me.”

“When they weren’t out getting drunk or high, they were acting like I didn’t even exist. They couldn’t even bother to pick me up from school or feed me, so you could imagine their reactions when I would ask them to go somewhere fun or to buy me a simple coloring book.”

Tears were now flowing freely down your face, dripping onto your hands as you tried to steady your breathing. It seemed stupid that you were crying over such a simple thing.

Spencer pulled you closer to him on the couch, making you lift your head up to look at him. His expression was a soft one. It wasn’t a look of pity, it was a look of understanding.

He gently wiped your face with the sleeve of his cardigan before speaking.

“Give me a list.”

“What?”

“Give me a list of things you didn’t get to do as a kid, and we’ll do them.”

He smiled when your eyes went wide with surprise.

“Um, I don’t have a specific list but….I’ve never blown bubbles before.”

“Alright, get your shoes on, we’re going on an adventure.” He gets up from the couch, bringing you with him to the door.

——————

The two of you were now standing in a park, in the middle of the nights, with cheap blowing bubbles in hand.

Opening up the bottle, you were immediately hit with a soapy smell that made your nose burn.

“Are you sure these are safe to use?” You ask, pulling out the tiny wand inside the bottle and staring at it like it was another life form instead of just a piece of plastic

Spencer laughed at your hesitance and opened his bottle as well. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Sooo, how do you do this, exactly?”

“You just dip the wand into the soap mixture, and blow through it.”

You dip the wand back down into the bottle and bring it to your lips, gently blowing into it.

A stream of bubbles flow from the wand before you can’t blow any more without dipping it back into the container.

You stare in childish wonder as they float down to the ground, popping on the blades of grass

“Magical, right?” Spencer laughs before blowing some of his own bubbles.

You continue to stare at them floating downwards, laughing as you blow some more and attempt to catch one in your hands. You frown when it pops and leaves a sticky residue behind.

“Not very durable, huh?” You say as you wipe your hands on your shirt.

“No, not at all. In fact, the bubbles are made up of three layers; an inner and outer layer made up of soap and a layer of water in between, like a water sandwich. Water evaporating from the bubble film is what makes it pop.” Spencer smiles at you, clearly proud of the built-in encyclopedia of information he has in his brain.

You move towards him and wrap your arms around his waist before pecking his cheeks, then his lips. He squeezes you closer when you try to pull away, drawing out the kiss longer than you intended.

When you finally pull away, he smiles a sweet thing.

“Well, was the bubble-blowing Everything you wanted and more?” He asks as he gently grabs your hands and runs over the ridges of your knuckles with his thumbs

“Yes, I’d say it was.” You beamed.

You both stand in silence for what felt like forever before he brings his hands up to your face, cupping it lightly.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to think of something. Then he spoke.

“I love you so much Y/N, childish or not, and screw anyone who willingly misses out on your amazing personality just because they think they’re too grown up for it.”

Tears started to well in your eyes for the third time that night. Except this time, it wasn’t because of pain or sadness or your shitty friends.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

And before he could speak, you pulled him in for a kiss that tasted only of blowing bubbles and happiness.

————

Let me know what you think!

[btsficsandsuch]

No Use In Crying Over Spilled Matcha

You recently moved to Seoul for work. It’s been a lot harder than you imagined, but you might have a change of heart when a kind stranger helps you after a breakdown.

You were overwhelmed to say the least. You were two weeks into your new position at your job and it was so much harder than you thought it would be. Your company had offered you a promotion and a raise along with your moving costs covered. The only catch was that you had to move to Seoul which was on the other side of the world in a country you’d never even been to, where you didn’t know the language and you’d be all alone. You were adventurous and a risk taker so you accepted the offer but you were wishing you had thought it through more. You were having a hard time navigating the city, your new coworkers weren’t exactly the friendliest, and you weren’t learning Korean as fast as you thought you would. You were starting to think that taking this new position was a big mistake.

Today was one of the worst days you’d had yet. It was finally your lunch break. Normally you didn’t like venturing out into the city on your lunch for fear of getting lost but you had just finished getting berated by your boss for something out of your control and you just needed the break. You decided to stop at a convenience store to grab some lunch. You were looking through the snack aisles just grabbing anything that looked okay since you still couldn’t really read any of the wording. When it came to drinks you usually just picked whichever one looked the prettiest and hoped for the best. Sometimes it was a win and sometimes a complete fail. This time going with a bright pink bottle thinking it must be some kind of strawberry drink or something like that.

After paying you walked over to a small seating area just outside of the store. There was an elderly couple sitting together while having some coffee and a table with a few guys about your age who were just hanging out. You sat at the open table all the way back in the corner trying to go unnoticed. You began to eat being pleasantly surprised as the snacks you got weren’t half bad. Due to the extreme heat you couldn’t wait to crack into the ice cold beverage you had purchased. You twisted open the pink bottle and took a big sip. Immediately you spit it out. It wasn’t strawberry flavored or cherry or even watermelon. It was matcha. The one flavor in the world you can’t stand. “Why is a matcha drink in a pink bottle? I thought it was always green.”, you spoke to yourself.

You don’t know if it was the heat or the loneliness or getting yelled at by your boss or a combination of everything but you just started crying. You cried so hard you didn’t notice that one of the guys from the other table came over and sat next to you. He handed you some napkins, “Hey now, there’s no use in crying over spilled matcha…or something like that.” Even though he spoke broken English you were happy to even be able to understand him. You looked up and saw the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He was staring at you with a kind smile. He began using one of the napkins to wipe up the table, “I’m sorry that something has you so upset. Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shook your head, “No it’s okay. I’m just having a really hard time lately and I really hate matcha so that was the last straw for me.” The man started laughing, “Maybe don’t buy anything matcha flavored then.” You nodded with a laugh, “Yeah I should probably learn how to read the language.” The two of you sat and conversed for a while until you announced you had to get back to work. Before you could leave he stopped you,” I just remembered we never exchanged names. My name is Jin.” You smiled at him, “My name is Y/N.”

He smiled at you again, “That’s a very pretty name Y/N. If you’d like I could help you work on your Korean some time. Maybe you could help me with my English.” You nodded, “Yeah I’d like that.” You wrote down your number and made your way back to work. Once at your desk you went to make sure your phone was on silent when you saw a new message,

“Y/N this is Jin. Would you want to go on a date with me this Saturday at noon? There’s a really nice cafe about 2 miles from where we met earlier. I promise I’m make sure your drink is 100% matcha free.” You quickly added his number to your contacts and replied, “I’d really like that.”

You felt your heart flutter at the thought of him. Maybe you could get used to living here after all.

[milfsfckr]

Sorry not Professor!. (Pt 1)

Professor!WandaMaximoff x student!fem!reader

Warnings: drinking alcohol, swearing,

A/n: Idk what this is tbh. 🤦‍♀️

Not a proofread. (yet)

Y/n’s POV:

It's my first day back at college, and I'm soo happy that my old Russian teacher is gone, he was such a bitch. Right now it's like 8am and I'm meant to get ready but I'm in bed on my phone answering messages.

And I have a lot to answer so I just take my time. As soon as I'm done I get out of bed and go to my bathroom to have a shower, I wash my hair, body and hop out and get changed.

I was going to wear a caramel coloured skirt with a t shirt that had 'I'm anyone's but urs' on it, and put on one of my youknow hoodies. I did light makeup then did my hair into a half up half down, and put one of my ribbon and made it into a bow.

When I'm done everything I get my bag and leave my bedroom and go to my kitchen where I see Rey, he's my cat, he's all black and soo cute. I love him with my whole heart. I see he's next to his food blow and just looked at me with his green eyes.

I laugh and get his blow and fill it up with his cat food, and kiss him and left the kitchen, and went to my car and got in it and left.

It's around 9:06am right now and I have class at 9:30 so I dictate to get some coffee. I go to my fav cafe and go in and see my favourite barista, Amaia . "hey dory" she says with a big smile, she calls me dory because I forget things really easily but nothings wrong with me I think?.. "hey mai" I say and smile back. "The usual?." She asked "yup".

We talked while she made my coffee and I looked at the time, and it was 9:25am. " shit mai I have to go my first class start at 9:30" I say and she nods her head and gives me my coffee, I send her a sad smile and go to my car and drive to school.

I pulled up to school in my favourite car, my black track hawk. I parked in my normal park and got my stuff, and went to class. That's when I realised I had Russian First. 'Fuck' I mumble to myself and saw Yelena, she was doing Russian to and she was late.

"Lena?, your like never late to classes" I say and she looks at me "what's the time?" I show her my phone and it's 9:40am "shit" she mumbles "it's okayy, come with me, we have the same classes right?" I ask "yeah we do" she answers.

We walk together and we get to class, we walk in a see an angry teacher and principal. "Sorry we're late miss" Yelena says and I just roll my eyes and find a seat.

"Anyways class, this is your new Russian teacher, Ms Maximoff" our principal says, she's pretty hot not gonna lie, but it's not like I can fuck my teacher.

"Hi class, I'm going to be your new teacher for as long as your here for, and I probably won't quit like your other" she says and everyone looked at me "what?" I say and miss looked at me. "Your the one who made him leave" someone says I, it was jack

"shut the fuck up jack your the one who ruined his and his wife’s marriage" I say and everyone starts laughing and I giggle too, I notice the principal left and saw an already angry teacher. "Shit" I mumble "jack and y/n, you two stay after class" she say/yells and I look at her and she look at me, and I roll my eyes.

After class was over miss dismiss us, but not me and jack. But to be honest I didn't really listen I was mainly looking at her and her beautiful green eyes. Everyone was taking their time so I just went on my phone until everyone left.

"Okay you two, what was that about?" She says and I make a confused look and look at jack, then I remember what she's talking about. "It was his fault" I say first and look at him, and he gives me an angry look and I shrug my shoulders. "Miss Y/L/N, what did you say after he said 'your the one who made him leave'" she says and looks at me "oh yeah, I said 'shut the fuck up jack your the one who ruined his and his wife’s marriage" I said and giggle when I done.

"Y/n it's not a good time to be giggling" she says "well I was just speaking facts" I say, and I think jack was too scared to say anything so he stayed quiet. "Okay you too, if this happens again you two won't have my class at the same time again" she says, and I roll my eyes. "Sure miss" we both say.

"Jack you go I need to talk to y/n" she says 'oh fuck' I think to myself, I can't be alone with her, she's like the hottest teacher I've got and I might do something I would regret.

"So y/n, it seemed you were distracted in my class today" she says and looks at me. "I wasn't distracted" I huff "okay so what did we learn today", she was right I was distracted by her obviously, and I don't think she knows. "See you were, can you pay attention in my class or I'll have to move you" she says and I look at her with my 'what did you say' face and roll my eyes, I get up and leave.

"Oh and maybe don't wear a skirt tomorrow, and quit with the eyed rolling" she say while I stop in my tracks. "Why can't I wear a skirt tomorrow miss?" I ask innocently "because you were distracting the boys" she says "what are you jealous" I laugh and say "I can't make promises miss" and leave.

I got to my next classes and we had an early finish, because the teachers had a meeting so we got to go at lunch. I go and looked for Yelena, Kate and everyone else, I got a text from the group chat saying we're all going to meet up at the park.

I got in my car and drove there, I saw everyone on a table and grab my phone and some water. "Hey guys" I say and hug Kate, "hi dory" everyone says. I giggle and sit next to Natasha, my best friend since we were 7. We kept on talking until I got a phone call, "who is it" Peter said, "it's my dad again, they probably have to go on a trip again" I say rolling my eyes and answering it.

"Hi dad" I say coldly "hi sweetheart, I know we said you had us for the weekend, but something has come up. And me and your mother have to go to Italy" he says "it's okay I might go to someone's house or something, oh can you get me my favourite stuff there?" I ask and he says 'sure honey' and hangs up

"Well looks like I'm going to be home alone for a month or so" I say and look at everyone. "Damn girl, I kinda feel bad" Kate says, "but you do got the house to yourself" she adds

And out of no where Peter says "we should go to the new club tonight" everyone agrees, "everyone meet at dory's place when your finished getting ready" Yelena says and I just look at her, and she shrugs her shoulders.

⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗

as I was getting ready for our club night I heard the my door bell ring, and it was Yelena and Natasha. "Hey babes" I say "Heyy dory" Lena says "Heyy" Nat says. I let them look around my house while I go to my room to finish doing my hair and make up.

As I finish Nat and Lena come into my room, "what dress should I wear?" I asked them. I had two options, a red knee high dress, or a black thigh high dress with a back cut thing. "The black one" they both say at the same time, I giggled and went to my bathroom and put it on. I fix up the little details and got back to my room to show them.

I walk out and saw their jaws dropped, I giggled at their reaction then Yelena said, "damn dory, your gonna get all the girls" me and Nat laughed and that's when I heard my door bell. I go to my door and see Kate and Peter, they looked good and then Nat and Lena followed after me, and said hi to each other.

"What car are we taking?" I ask, "what do you mean by what car?" Kate ask confused and I giggle and took them to my garage. "Which one?" I ask again, they all looked around. They all agreed on my jeep so we took it.

Me and Nat we're re in the front and the other three we're in the back. It didn't take that long to get there, it took us around 10 - 15 minutes, there were a lot of people and but my parents are friends with the owners I think, that's why I knew what club Peter was talking about.

We get there and get out of the car, we walk to the front and we see a man at the front of the door. "Oh hello y/n" he says "hi Luka" I smile as he lets us in. "You didn't tell me that you know this place" Peter mumbles "what did you say Peter?" I ask, knowing what he said and looked back at him. "N- nothing dory." He said "what I thought" I say with a laugh.

"Come on guys let partyyy" Yelena says "yes ma'am" I say. We got to the dance floor and dance for a bit until I got a bit thirsty, "guys I'm going to get a drink, I'll be right back" I tell them and they nodded.

I go to the bar and ask for a martini, and wait until I see a familiar face, oh shit it was my Russian teacher, Ms Maximoff. The bartender hands me my drink and I say 'thanks' and give them a tip.

I can't believe one of my teachers are here, but I did see Ms Hill before so I think they're together. I hope not in that way.. But no gonna lie the bartender was hot.

Then I felt hands on my waist, it was Nat. She's drunk and when she's drunk she's a big baby. "Nat" I whine "already?" I add then Ms Maximoff looked at us. "I'm sorry y/nn” she says in a cute voice, "I'm going to call you an Uber, and make sure your sister goes with you too" she whines and I look at her.

"Yelenaaa" I yell and she walks up to me, "what dory?" Take your sister to my house, you to can stay there tonight.". "Why do I have to take her" she whines, "because I said so" I say and she huffs and takes her sisters hands "Byee doryyy" Nat says "bye natty"

⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗

Wanda's POV:

After I heard Natasha and her sister leave the club I had just noticed how good that black dress looks on y/n- Wanda stop she's your student, anyways as Maria came back from the bathroom we started talking.

Then we heard laughing and it was y/n and her friends, they were really drunk. We looked at them and they were dancing and laughing. Maria laughed and so did I. It was around 1am so I dictated to leave, I said go bye to Maria and we left.

⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗* ⧗

Y/n's POV:

Me and Kate were just dancing, and we were hella drunk. But then Peter, the one that didn't drink at all made us go home. I was annoyed but then I remembered I have classes at like 9am but I didn't really care to be honest.

He drove me and Kate to my house and as soon as I got to my room I went straight to bed. Be before I took off my makeup and my dress and just put on a hoodie.

My Masterslist.

Pt 2.

[spenzitz]

LOVING THEM ~ BSD

a/n~this is a new thing? it's definitely out of my comfort zone, but I've been thinking about it for a while, so here you go! words~ 524

dazai, atsushi, ranpo, gn!reader, this is my first time writing for ranpo so uh, tw :)

DAZAI

loving dazai is putting up with his shit. when it's 7 in the morning, and you should have been up half an hour ago, but dazai was just too tired. too tired to get out of bed but awake enough to talk your ear off about whatever popped in his head.

when you finally do roll out of bed, you have to pull dazai along with you by his hand. you drag him to the bathroom to brush his teeth while you go get dressed and bring him his clothes.

there's something about getting dressed that changes his mindset from tired and half asleep to awake and energized. suddenly, dazai is the one dragging you around to get ready for the day. he makes you some breakfast which ends up being kinda terrible and a waste of food. but "thank you, dazai. it's lovely" is all you can manage to say to him.

you're both late for work that day, something you never did before dating dazai. but this is your new normal, and you think it might be worth it.

ATSUSHI

loving atsushi is taking care of him. see, atsushi has no concept of self-care(or love, lmao), so you have to do it for him.

one time, he stayed up until 3am doing paperwork because he didn't want kunikida to be mad at him. so he only got like 3 hours of sleep. the next day, he was completely useless like the dude should not have shown up. he also doesn't like coffee(he says it's too bitter, same atsushi...), so you couldn't really help him.

similar things happen for a while until you realize that he doesn't understand the problem. he genuinely thinks everyone does this, and it's ok. you realize if you don't have a conversation with him soon, he's gonna end up killing himself. so, you make him a rule saying that he can't do work after 7pm except in special circumstances.

you also have to make sure that he eats three meals a day and drinks plenty of water. he's so confused when you put a sandwich on his desk around noon. he's like, "but i already ate this morning?" or when you ask him if he's drank any water today. you really do wonder how he survived after getting kicked out of the orphanage.

RANPO

loving ranpo is bringing him snacks. he's a simple man. what can I say?

"thank you, my dear," he announces when you walk into the office. you grin as you drop off your bag on your desk and make your way to his. "for what, honey?" you say, pulling up a chair to his desk and propping your head on your hands.

he glances up at you from his work, peering over his glasses "for the food you brought me" he says all smug. you let out a big dramatic sight, " I just can't keep anything from you can I?"

"of course not!" ranpo closes his laptop and looks at you with pleading eyes. "you're not getting them until lunch!" you say definitively. he looks defeated but doesn't argue. he decides he'll let you win for once.

masterlist

requests~open

[garbinge]

Home

Jax Teller x F!Reader

Summary: Lockdown at the clubhouse can be stressful, even when Jax comes back. 

I have a sort of second part to this fic, called Riding With Angels. Can be considered its own standalone fic but figured I’d link it here!

A/N: I have no idea what this is but it’s something so enjoy lol. 

Word Count: 1.9k 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, canon level violence insinuated. 

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc (Not sure how many SOA fics i’ll have in the future but happy to add anyone to any potential future fics!)

The heaviness of the day was apparent on everyone at the club house that night. It was lockdown day number 7, but it was starting to feel like everyone had been there for weeks. Which was normal, the days blended together here at the clubhouse, especially for those who didn’t sleep in the dorms and were making their beds on the old couches, pool tables, and floor of the club. You heard some commotion outside of Jax’s dorm so you decided to leave Abel and Thomas who were sound asleep and made your way through the bar area which was looking more like a maze with all the sleeping bags. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Gemma’s voice alerted you to look in the kitchen. She was pouring a cup of coffee for herself but had grabbed a second mug for you. 

“Hey, Gem.” You stepped into the kitchen, not making eye contact as you were still curious about the commotion. 

“They just got back,” she said, focused on the pour, “doesn’t look good.”

You nodded, expecting that much. You didn’t know what was happening, you rarely ever did, but they didn’t go into lockdown over nothing. The more you thought about it, you weren’t sure if there was ever a point where lockdown went past one week, but there was always a first for everything. 

“Go,” Gemma nodded towards the door that lead to the lot, “I’ll go be with the boys, you go check on your’s.” 

Before you could argue, not sure if you were ready to deal with what was on the other side of the door, Gemma was walking back towards the dorms, leaving you with coffee and your thoughts, alone. 

After a sip and a sigh, you got the courage to go outside. There was a large bonfire happening just outside the awning, mostly made up of family but a few of the club members had joined. Most of them sporting new cuts and bruises. Your eyes scanned over all of them, taking them all in. Juice looked broken, his spirit crushed, his lip split. Happy was next to him, no visible marks on him, but the rage was dripping off of him. Tig had made his way past you, patting your back and mumbling a quick “hey, doll” greeting but in such a monotone voice in comparison to Tig’s normal tone. 

You now were looking for him. A little worried what you were going to be met with, broken bones, or worst, a broken soul. Scanning the lot, you were startled by someone tall breaking your gaze. 

“Jesus Christ, Ope.” You whispered. It normally would have gotten a chuckle out of him but not today. There likely wouldn’t have been any sign of a laugh around here anytime soon. 

“Jax isn’t here, yet. He’ll be here in a bit.” he said like he had been rehearsing what to say. After taking a quick glance at the bikes you noticed Clay and Jax’s bikes were missing. You nodded to Opie, understanding there was something bigger at play here that you likely would never know about. 

You made your way to the bonfire, grabbing an open seat. Your thoughts consumed you as the time passed and there was no sign of Jax. The mug you had was now empty but before you knew it that same tall shadowy figure was hovering over you again. Opie was back with a mug of coffee in one hand and a beer in the other. He offered you the coffee mug and sat down on the bench next to you. 

“Any fuckin’ longer and I might have to start drinking to pass the time,” you half joked as you brought the coffee to your lips. 

Opie didn’t say anything, which normally wouldn’t have bothered you, but right now you needed something to keep you level headed. 

“Opie. You gotta give me something.” Your eyes looked over at him as he stared into the bonfire. “Is it ATF? The Mayans?” You questioned pulling at the little bit you knew happening with the club. 

That got Opie’s attention, he looked down at you with a frown on his face. 

“I may not know the ins and outs of the club’s doings, but I’m not stupid, I can pick up on shit.” You looked away from him not expecting him to give you anything. 

“It’s family shit.” Opie said at a mumble. “Mixed with other shit, but, something is up with him and Clay.” 

Now that, you knew. Jax had shared a few things with you in regards to Clay, but nothing you were willing to show your cards on to anyone in the club. You just gave Opie a nod, but then your eyes went around to all the other guys who were beat up. 

“You’re telling me that Jax and Clay’s shit did all that.” You pointed to Juice, Tig, and Happy who were sitting across the fire out of earshot nursing their wounds with frozen bags of vegetables, sad looks, and alcohol. 

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” Opie attempted to smile. 

“Maybe.” You smiled back at him. 

“Shit’s bleeding into the club, makes us weak.” Opie said knowing it was the last piece of information he was going to give up. You’d known Opie on a different level than the rest of the club. He was Jax’s best friend and that’s how you knew him first, compared to everyone else who were just patch members who were nice to you since you were Jax’s girl. 

“You’re telling me because you want me to talk to him.” You said seeing right through what he was doing. 

Before Opie could answer or you could ask him why he thought you were going to be the one to get through to him, the sound of motorcycles in the distance filled the air and your head turned as the few people on guard at the gate moved to open the fence. 

Clay’s bike was first in but Jax was shortly behind him. The two of them didn’t speak, in fact Clay was off his bike and halfway to the clubhouse while Jax was still backing up into his spot. 

The president walked by you, his eyes locked with yours for a millisecond, you would have missed it if you weren’t looking for clues in every detail happening at the moment. His glance, although short, was menacing, it was mean, and it was annoying but it was short lived so instead of giving that any of your energy, you turned to wait for Jax. 

His walk was slow, and there was definitely a limp in his walk. His eye was red and starting to bruise. Your mind had to wonder if that was a consequence of whatever the rest of the guys went through or something Clay had just done. 

He was closer now, and you could see how he felt all over his face. You took a few steps forward, not expecting him to engulf you into a hug the way he did. His lips met with your temple and your arms wrapped around his waist and slid under his kutte. 

He smelled like defeat, which was a mix of sweat, cologne, cigarettes, and dirt. But you weren’t going to let that get in the way of the moment he was having with you. 

His hands moved to cup your face, despite his slumped shoulders that originally melted into your grip at first. You were now eye to eye, staring at each other. 

“Hi.” You said at a whisper. 

His lips were pressed together but parted into a small smile when you spoke. 

His eyebrows raised, “hi,” he said back to you as his thumb caressed your cheek and the rest of his fingers gripped your head tighter. 

“I heard you had a rough day or something.” Your voice was still at a whisper. 

“Or something,” he said with a nod. 

“I’m not a fan of your new accessory,” you let your grip behind his waist go and move up to caress his bruised eye. 

Jax had a high tolerance for pain, so when there was a slight flinch as you lightly touched it, you knew that meant he was in a lot of pain. 

“Sorry,” you removed your hand from the bruise. “I’ll get you something cold for it,” you went to let go of him so you could scour the clubhouse for any frozen vegetable that wasn’t currently being used by one of the other members but Jax pulled you back. 

“Let’s go home,” Jax said, placing his hand over yours back on his face. 

“Okay, sure, I cleaned the dorm up today, the boys are asleep but if you want some time to shower I can take them to sit by the bonfire or have Gemma watch them for a bit.” Your mind was going a mile a minute, which usually happened when you were overwhelmed with thoughts. 

“No, babe, like home. I want to go home.” Jax said as seriously as possible. 

“We’re on lockdown, though.” You frowned looking up at him. 

“Abel and Thomas can stay here with my mom, and you know I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I just can’t be here.” His eyes closed and his head shook. 

“Alright, yea, that sounds good. Honestly it sounds nice, I’m sick of the shitty water pressure here.” You managed to make him laugh. “Let me just get some of my stuff, and then we can go.” 

You had taken two steps before you turned around again. “You gotta give me something when we get back, Jax. You gotta let me in.” It was random and probably shocking to hear that out of your mouth, but at the same time, what really could Jax expect. 

He gave you a nod in approval. “Get your stuff and we’ll get out of here.” He said giving a final nod to the clubhouse, and with that you escaped behind the metal door. 

After finding Gemma who was now with Abel and Thomas in the main part of the clubhouse, playing, you asked if she could watch them while you and Jax were gone. She had her hesitancy of letting the two leave the compound but she knew you weren’t the person to argue with about it, and with everything going on, she wasn’t going to have that conversation with Jax. She’d just hope nothing horrible would happen. 

You were in Jax’s dorm, grabbing some of your things from the dresser when you heard the door close. Your head snapped to see Jax making his way over to the bed.

“I’ll be done in like 2 minutes, just need to grab my backpack.” Your head wasn’t facing him, you just figured he was waiting for you at the edge of the bed. But when you turned around you saw a large binder in his hands. It looked like a manual to a bike or a car, so you frowned but you glanced at the door and noticed Jax had locked the door, which likely meant whatever was in the binder was more important than it looked. 

“If you want me to give you something, I’m going to have to give you everything. And it all starts here.” His hand lifted the binder and shook it. 

“It’s going to be a long night isn’t it?” You said sitting next to him grabbing the binder from his hands and running your hand over it. 

“But at least we’ll be home.” Jax lifted his eyebrows and pushed his shoulder into yours. 

You smiled and leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and staring into his blue eyes. 

“At least we’ll be home.”

[peekaboo-icyou]

You asked for mafia wilbur requests, I shall deliver.

mafia!wilbur who is known for like being super intimidating and everyone is scared of him but no one really knows what he looks like unless they’re in business with him. He’s know as the chimney or something (haha get it? soot?…) (the chimney is a haha funnies jk but whatever). then he just meets the reader (preferably fem but you can do whatever you would like) who is like the total opposite of him. Shes super kind and supportive and loves everyone and is just a literal ray of sunshine. they meet in a coffee shop or something like that and he just like melts when they first meet. Then like Techno and Phil or whoever else you want to be in his mafia are all like confused on why he keeps disappearing during the days and nights and he’s just going on dates with you and spending the night at your house and stuff.

PLEASE DO A LITTLE ANGST WHERE THE READER GETS KIDNAPPED OR SOMETHING AND THEN SHE GETS SAVED BY WILBUR AND THEN HE CONFESSES TO HER OR SOMETHIGN SDHGEJDJD I LIVE FOR THAT SHITVEHUEHDBFBDJ ❤️❤️❤️

A new person

Usually wilbur gets one of his men to go get his daily coffee for him but today the only one of his men that knew his order was busy doing something so he had to go get his own. He already wasn’t having a good day since he had just gotten news that his men had failed a mission so maybe a little walk would do him good. He was walking down to his local cafe one of his favorites but he’s never actually been there just sent a worker to get his coffee for him so when he stepped inside and saw this absolutely beautiful person making coffee he almost passed out his heart might’ve even grown a few sizes bigger he even felt nervous walking up to the counter

“oh hello I’m y/n can I take your order?” He blushes when he hears your name “oh um yes c-can I get f/d” you smile cutely at him “oh that’s one of my favorites” he turns red “oh um thank you” he cringes at himself while he watches as you turn around and start to make his drink “I like your cute little bumble bee apron” you smile at him “oh thank you it’s quite old and dirty” you finish his drink “here you go sir” you smile sweetly he blushes like crazy “oh um thank you um how about I pay for a drink for you and you take a break?” You smile softly “oh I couldn’t” he smiles “I insist” you sigh and smile “I suppose I could spare 5 minutes”

that 5 minutes turned into and hour an a half of laughing and getting to know each other “sooo bumble bee, can I take you out?” you blush “oh um I-I would like that” he smiles “how about that new restaurant tomorrow at 7?” “Oh but isn’t that expensive?” “Dont worry you pretty little head about it it’s on me”

and since then you’ve both been spending almost everyday with each other but it’s usually at your house he says his roommates aren’t pleasant but in reality he doesn’t want you to know that he’s rich and then that leads to you asking about his job and he told you it was some low paying job, so after a few weeks of Wilbur leaving at night or lunch time to hang out with you his right hand men got suspicious, “so Wil why are ya always disappearin at lunch?” Asked the pink haired male Wilbur looks at him like he’d been caught for a murder but quickly calms down “well to get food of course” he smirks at the male thinking he’s won “well why now are you leaving you’ve always gotten someone else to get you food for you?” That’s when Wilbur starts getting nervous “well I um just like going out more now” “mhm” the male gave him a stare that showed Wil he knew he was lying “fine I-its this girl I’m seeing and she’s just so sweet she owns my favorite coffee shop and she doesn’t know what I do and she actually treats me like a normal person and always gets me stuff which I do kinda feel bad for cause shes already struggling with money but I’ll pay her back when we get married” techno laughs “y’know she’ll probably just run away when she does find out what you do” Wil sighs “I know that’s why I haven’t told her yet” “y’know that’s going to backfire right?” “Of course I know that I just have to hope for the best and make her fall in love with me enough so she’ll never leave me” he smiles “yeah that’s not creepy”

a few days later wilbur gets a letter “dear chimney we have your beloved if you ever want to see them again come to the old abandoned factory before sun down” his heart immediately drops he knew this would happen he doesn’t know why he ever asked you on a date he should have just kept his feelings hidden so you wouldn’t get hurt but he had to be selfish and keep you all to himself, he starts throwing stuff around out of anger “GODDAMMIT” he grabs his phone “PHIL SEND EVERYONE TO THIS ADDRESS RIGHT NOW, TELL THEM TO PREPARE FOR THE WORST NOT FROM OUR ENEMYS BUT FROM ME” he’s fuming, “oh um yes Wil but can I ask what for?” “JUST FOLLOW ORDERS” he hangs up “well that’s not how you talk to your father figure” phil mutters. Meanwhile your kidnappers were trying there best to not even leave a scratch on you or mess up your hair well actually they are going to mess up your hair, they put stuff on you to make you look real beat up look on the verge of death beat up and then sent him a picture he better bring the money or it’ll be worse. TBC

I KEEP RUNNING OUT OF SPACE ILL MAKE A PT 2 AS SOON AS I CAN ❤️