#my driveway has been frozen over for a week!

[willfullwanderer]

wimter

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

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[skywalkersslut]

BABY BLUES

benny cross x fem!reader

A/N: I keep seeing fics where benny starts to panic when reader gets pregnant and I know that’s honestly pretty canon…. however I was wondering how it’d be the other way around :( so I ended up writing my own!

Summary: In which you get pregnant and you’re not sure if you have what it takes to be a mother

Warnings: angstttttt, reader has mommy issues, husband!benny, fluffy ending, kind of ooc benny

You had been late, 16 days to be precise. Normally you wouldn’t have thought twice to your period being a few days late. This being because of your constant stress inducing husband, but it had felt different this time. You couldn’t sleep, and to be fair, it had been 2 weeks. Now you sit in the doctor’s office staring at the detailed slip of paper in your hands, confirming you were in fact pregnant.

You pulled into the driveway of your and Benny’s house, for once relieved, that Benny’s Harley hadn’t been parked up front. It wasn’t that you were scared to tell him, you were scared of the pregnancy itself, could you be a mother?

You walked into the house, keys turning inside the loose gold doorknob, you’d have to remind Benny to fix that later.

Hours of contemplating had past, you’ve been pacing around the entire house. You thought back to your childhood, remembering the lack of love you got from your mother, the same cycle you’d pass on to this baby. How can you pass on something you’ve never had? You hadn’t learned to love a child, you didn’t know what was right or wrong.

Right as you’re about to take another lap around the house, you hear the familiar rev of Bennys bike.

Normally, you’d feel like a weight had been lifted off your shoulder, skipping over to greet your husband with kisses. This time, you were stuck in place with your stomach in knots.

Benny walked into the house, hanging up his keys on the baby blue holder. “Darlin” he yelled out. A few seconds had past, and you’d mustered up the courage to face your husband, walking up to him, sucking in your tears “Hey baby” you let out in a whisper.

“C’mere”, he called out but you stood frozen, denying his embrace. Something you only do when you’re mad. “What’s wrong, hm”, he peered down at you, lifting your chin. “I’m just tired Benny” you walked away and plopped down on the sofa.

“So tired ya can’t even kiss your husband?” he said wearily, following you to the couch. “Benny,” Before you could even let out a sentence the tears started pouring. “Hey baby what’s wrong”, Benny sat down to hold you “Somethin happen? What is it baby”

Benny hadn’t been an affectionate person. He never cared for little things until you had come into his life, it had been one night of you one the back of his motorcycle, talking his ear off when he realized he was gonna make you his wife. Since then, he’s changed, sure he still has trouble communicating and stays out with Johnny for a little too long, but there’s nothing more to him than his wife.

“I’m pregnant, Benny” you couldn’t even look at him, you know he’d stick by you, he never made you feel like he’d leave you, not since you two had tied the knot.

Benny paused in his seat. This was far different from what he had thought was the reasoning behind your behaviour, he was relieved. It had taken a few moments for Benny to realize what had just come outta your mouth, but when he did he felt nothing but love. “I’m gonna be a dad?” he looked down at you with a smile, but there was all the opposite on your face.

“What’s wrong doll, yer not happy?” He tilted his head down to face you. “I can’t be a mom Benny, I never had a mom the way others did, I’m just gonna pass it on to our kid and a baby doesn’t deserve that? All babies need a good mom. I can’t even do that.”

Benny heart dropped, you, the person who’d shown up to every meeting with one of your famous desserts each time, who’d cared for him after every fight he’d been in, the same woman who he knew he’d fight a million men for, thought she couldn’t be a good mother? “Baby, you’re not really saying that hm, if there’s someone in this world who’ll be a good mom, it’s sure as hell you.”

Benny couldn’t stop the anger rising within him, knowing he couldn’t change the way you were raised. “Don’t ever say some shit like that again huh” You started to feel light inside, lookin up to see nothing but seriousness on Bennys face. “My mom fucked me up Benny” you sighed in defeat.

“We’re all fucked up baby, before there was you I thought I’d just be fucking around on my bike till the end of time, you changed my whole life doll, look at me I’m gonna be a fucking dad and I don’t want nothin more.”

For the first time since he’d come home, you’d smile. “Okay” “Okay? Okay what baby” Benny asked “Okay we’re gonna have this baby” your words cause Benny to ease into the couch “Damn fucking right we are”

Benny hugged you so tight you started to wonder how you’d felt so low when you had him by your side.

Soon enough, you’d be months along, strolling into every baby store you can, trying not to buy every little piece of clothing you set your eyes on. Benny not far behind, holding the piles of whatever you throw into his hand, trying to pretend the sight of you carrying his baby doesn’t make his heart swell.

[novamariestark]

Stress Relief...

Summary: Over the last 9 months, your life has changed a lot, it was hard not to feel stressed, but after meeting quite possibly the sexiest guy you'd ever met at Molly's, stress was the last thing on your mind

Warnings: age gap, smut, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), drunk-ish sex

Word count: 3354

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x halstead!reader

[A/N] I've been wanting to write for Hank a long time, but every time i watched Chicago P.D to get ideas and inspiration, I got distracted 🤣, It's very hard not to

You were a creature of habit. Always have been. So it didn’t take long for everyone to learn them. One particular habit was your nightly trip to Molly’s. The firefighter bar. You met Herrmann in the ER one day and you became friends. He was quite possibly the sweetest person you’d ever met. He was also the only one who knew your full past.

You weren’t always here in Chicago nor were you aware of your brothers, Will and Jay. Up until 9 months ago you didn’t know that they existed. You were an orphan, or at least that’s what you were always told and you had no reason to think otherwise. But sure enough, after a trip to Chicago and one freak accident that took you to the ER, you found them. Well one. Your older brother Will. How he found out, you still didn’t know but he did. Shortly after, you met Jay, who apparently is your twin brother.

You spent as much time with them as possible before leaving for your college graduation, promising to visit. Little did you know that they were coming back with you. You didn’t find out until they “dropped you off” at the airport the next day but with bags.

“You think we’d miss our little sister’s graduation?” Will asked smiling warmly.

"Seriously?" you asked, your face lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning.

Will chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Of course. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

As soon as your flight number was called, you all boarded the plane, excitement bubbling under the surface. You couldn't believe it. Just a week ago, you thought you'd be walking across the stage to receive your degree with no one in the crowd cheering for you. But now, you were going to have two people there, and not just anyone—your brothers.

As you settled into your seat, you glanced over at Will and Jay, who were chatting animatedly about the plans for the weekend. The reality of the situation finally hit you, and felt a smile creeping up your face. You'd spent so much of your life moving from place to place, rarely feeling like you truly belonged anywhere. But now, it felt like you finally did belong.

When the plane landed, you turned to your brothers with a smile. "I'll head home and change, and then I'll meet you both at the hotel with my husband," you said, still riding the high of excitement from the journey.

They nodded, and after a quick hug and a promise to catch up soon, you headed off towards your apartment. You didn’t live so far away, so you decided to walk. As you walked up the driveway, you noticed your husband's car was there. A small, happy smile crossed your face.

You unlocked the front door and stepped inside, calling out a cheerful greeting. "I'm home!"

But there was no response. The house was eerily quiet, and an uneasy feeling began to settle in your stomach. You walked through the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the silence. As you approached the bedroom door, you noticed it was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, your eyes widened in shock.

There, on the bed, was your husband—tangled up with another woman. It was almost too surreal to process at first; your mind struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. They both looked up, startled by your sudden entrance. Your husband quickly pulled away from the woman, but he didn't seem particularly shocked or apologetic. Instead, he simply stared at you. In fact, a look of mild annoyance was plastered on his face.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you—betrayal, anger, sadness. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. You'd been so excited to share your news with him, and now this?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak. "I'll be back for my things," you said, your voice surprisingly steady despite earthquake of emotions rattling inside you. You didn't wait for a response. You turned on your heel and walked out, grabbing your car keys on the way out.

As you got into your car, your hands were trembling. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you wiped them away and started the engine. You drove to the hotel in a daze, trying to shake the image of your husband and the other woman from your mind. How you didn’t have an accident was beyond you.

Needless to say, they were furious when you showed up at their hotel room in tears. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but as soon as the elevator doors closed behind you, the dam broke. The tears came fast and hard, and you struggled to keep your sobs quiet as you rode up to their floor.

When you reached their room and knocked, Will opened the door, his smile fading instantly when he saw your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The warmth of his embrace made you feel better, even if just for a moment.

Jay quickly crossed the space between you, "What happened?" he asked, his voice tense.

You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. The pain was too raw, the words too painful. Instead, you just shook your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. Will held you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

"He... he was with someone else," you finally managed to choke out between sobs, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay's face turned red with anger, his fists clenching at his sides. "What?" he nearly shouted; his voice filled with fury. He took a step towards the door, clearly ready to confront your husband. "I'm gonna kill him," he muttered under his breath.

Will, still holding you close, turned to block Jay's path. "No, Jay," he said firmly, "This isn't the time. She needs us."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," you said, more tears streaming down your face as the realization hit you—you were now possibly homeless. You felt the weight of everything, slowly crushing you. But you needn’t worry about anything.

Jay offered you a place to stay and went back with you to collect the rest of your belongings. He was also there when you filed for divorce. Despite his assurances that he didn't mind you staying with him, you started looking for a place of your own. When you thought you had found one, Jay insisted it "wasn't safe enough" for you. So, almost nine months later, you’re still living with him. It had been a long time since you had a brother around, and you'd forgotten how much of a nuisance they could be—but you loved it.

You're now a nurse at Gaffney, the same hospital where Will works. While you love being near your brothers, the ER can be incredibly stressful, and when it gets overwhelming, you find yourself at Molly's, sitting on your usual barstool. Herrmann could tell just by the look on your face which usual you needed. You had two orders: one for a good day and one for a bad one. Clearly, today was the latter.

You smiled as the drink appeared in front of you. "Thanks, Hermie," you said, picking up the shot glass and downing it in one go, welcoming the familiar burn.

"No problem, kid," he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Wanna talk about it?" You shook your head, offering a grateful smile. He casually draped the towel over his shoulder and placed another drink in front of you, a glass of coke with double vodka, "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

You nodded once more as he moved to serve other patrons. You let your eyes leave their place on the glass and wander around the bar. Many people were regulars, in fact all of them were except for one.

He caught your eye immediately. He was quite possibly the hottest person you’d ever laid your eyes on. He was definitely older than you, by about 20 years but damn you didn’t care. His short, neatly trimmed hair was greying slightly but it only made him sexier. As you continue to admire him you could feel yourself being pulled from reality as your eyes trace his strong jawline. They then made their way further south to where the luckiest pieces of clothing hugs him. Especially the leather jacket. You love leather jackets. You’re not sure why but when they are wrapped around men like that, do you need a reason?

He must have felt your eyes on him because his flicked over to them. You quickly avert your eyes back to your glass, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks and you hope that it’s dark enough so no one can see.

You want to talk to him, but you feel you need some more liquid courage. You continued to drink your double vodka and coke and when you finished you signalled for a refill but just coke this time. You picked up the drink and made your way over to the man and sat beside him.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before,” you said, trying to make yourself sound like you weren’t completely freaking out on the inside.

“It’s not my usual place,” he replied with the deepest gravelly voice you had ever heard. You had to squeeze your thighs shut because of the effect it had on you.

Nevertheless, you try and ignore the feeling and held your hand out to him, “I’m (y/n)” you said with a small smile.

“Henry” he replied, placing his hand in yours. The rough skin on his fingertips felt good against your soft skin. You couldn’t help but think where else they’d feel good.

You both talked for a while as more people started to filter in. It started to get really loud and you wouldn’t mind going somewhere private with Henry. So you asked, “Hey, wanna go somewhere quieter,” you bite your lip hoping he says yes... And he does.

The drive to his was quiet, I left you to your thoughts. This wasn’t what you intended when you left the apartment tonight but hey apparently sex is a great stress reliever and you have a feeling you are about to be well taken care of.

You shoot Jay a quick text to let him know you are okay and as you press send you stopped. He’s a gentleman and opens the door for you and holds his hand out for you to take.

You take it and you get out of the car, following him into the house, his hand on the small of your back guiding you towards it.

The next few moments are a blur. As soon as the door shut, his mouth was on yours. The kiss started off tender but slowly got more passionate. You certainly weren’t complaining. He slowly guided you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. You had no idea where in the house you were until the back of your legs hit the cool sheets. His hands moved from your face to the zipper on your dress pulling it down swiftly. He slid the small straps down your arms as you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. The dress dropped from your frame and pooled at your feet, leaving you in just your underwear. When you undid the last button, you slowly removed both the shirt and the leather jacket. You let your hands follow the garments until they landed on his belt. Your mouths were still attached. You could taste the whiskey on his tongue and he could taste the vodka on yours. You continue fumbling with his jeans until thy joined your dress. His hands glide down your body until they reach your ass, you moan as he gives them a firm squeeze before lifting you up.

He turned and sat on the bed, so you were straddling him. You could feel him beneath you and you couldn’t help but grind against him. When he groaned you felt your pussy yip as if it had just been shocked. Was anything this man did not sexy?

Your tongues continue to battle each other as your wet core rides his clothed hardness. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood only to remove your panties. He removed his boxers quickly before you climbed back on top of him, wasting no time sinking down on him.

“fuck* you breathed, the word falling from your lips as your head falls back.

His hands hold your shoulders, slamming you down harder on him. You were already seeing stars and you had barely started.

His lips attached themselves to your neck, licking and nibbling at the soft flesh. They then trailed lower towards your still covered breasts. He kissed the valley between but made no movement to take off the piece of fabric in his way. So you reached behind you and unclasped it, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

He smirked against your skin taking one in his mouth, sucking hard on the sensitive nub, his hand played with the other, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Then he switched, giving them equal attention.

Without warning, he stood up and chucked you onto the bed, leaving you feeling cold and empty. Your hand went to your clit to give you something as he climbed towards you. Eyes locked on you as if you were his prey.

His hand slowly runs up your thigh until it reaches your hand. He looks at you and you move your hand and rest it on your stomach. His hand replaces yours. Teasing you. One finger gliding through the lips, dipping it ever so slightly into your wet hole.

“Please” you whimpered as his fingers continue to tease you.

With a smirk, he enters you fully, making you arch off the bed. He starts to move in and out, your body begging for more. You can’t help but let out a low moan that echoes through the room.

“Oh, baby, you like that?” he whispers in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod your head, unable to form words as pleasure overtakes you.

He slammed into you, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the darkness. You dig your nails into the bed, trying to hold on as he fucks you into oblivion.

You’re not sure how long it goes on, but you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

And just as you’re about to go over, he pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, pushing your legs apart. You know what’s coming next, and the few second wait is almost too much to handle. He slams into you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you, over and over again.

You bite the pillow to muffle your screams as he takes you roughly, your body trembling with every thrust. You can feel yourself about to cum, and you know it’s going to be the best fucking orgasm of your life.

Finally, with one last, hard thrust, you do. Your orgasm rips through you like a tornado in a trailer park, leaving you a trembling mess on the bed. Henry follows shortly after, his own groan of pleasure muffled against your neck.

The two of you collapse onto the bed, both panting and sweaty. You lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before you feel him roll over and wrap an arm around you.

The next morning you open your eyes, and you don’t recognise your surroundings. Your eyes squeeze shut as the bright light burns them and you become aware of the arm draped across your bare waist. Its then you remember the events from last night and it wasn’t just an amazing dream.

As your mind replays the sex a tone begins to sound. You knew it wasn’t your phone. The arm removed itself from your body and the sound stopped shortly after.

You turned to look at him, “hi,” your voice is small and unsure. You hadn’t done anything like this before so you didn’t know the protocol.

“Hey... I uh... Got to get to work,” he said removing the covers and going to get changed, “I’ll take you to get your car,”

“Thank you,” you smiled as you grab your outfit off the floor and quickly threw it on. You got your phone out your bag and checked the time, “shit,”

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked turning around as he continued buttoning up his shirt.

“Nothing, just my brother might have left for work already and he hasn’t given me a spare key,” you groaned inwardly. You couldn’t show up at the hospital looking like this.

As soon as you both were ready, as promised, Henry took you back to Molly’s to get your car. Much to your disappointment, plans were not made to see each other again.

You got in your car and drove as fast as you could without breaking the law but when you got there it was indeed too late. Jay had already gone to work. You got back in your car and headed to his workplace. What a first impression you were going to make. You haven’t met any of Jay’s colleagues and dressed in last night’s outfit and possibly smelling like sex.

You took a deep breath as you walked through the doors and up the steps to find a huge desk in front of you. You watched as the woman gave a sarcastic reply to a couple of patrol officers and you tried to stifle a laugh but failed. Her eyes flashed over to you, “Can I help you?” she asked in a tone that would probably send the uniforms running but you just give her your sweetest smile.

“I’m looking for my brother, Jay Halstead,”

“Oh, so you’re the mini-Halstead,” she said with the same tone, “Lets hope you aren’t like the other two,”

“Well, I’m a female,” you shrugged “Thats a difference,”

She pointed to another set of stairs leading up to a gate, “He’s up there,” she said resting her hand on the button waiting to buzz you in.

As soon as you hear it buzz, you open the gate and head up the rest of the steps. Jay spotted you before you got to the top.

“Look who decided to show up,” he called out. Everyone in the room turned to look at you and you kinda felt a little exposed. They probably thought you were a prostitute or something.

“Jay, I don’t have time for this,” you said walking over to his desk, your palm held out ready to receive the keys, “I’ve got to go to work,”

He fished the keys from his pocket and tossed them up in the air, a smug grin on his face, “Come home at a reasonable time then,”

“Or you could have gotten me a key cut, asshole,” you said rolling your eyes as you put the keys in your bag. When you looked back at your brother, he was looking at you funny, “What?”

“Where did you get that jacket?” he asked pointing to the leather jacket Henry gave you. You had forgotten you were wearing it.

You shrugged, “Just a friend,” you replied nonchalantly. Jay went to say something else when a voice spoke from behind you. A familiar one. You turned and sure enough, there he was, “Henry?”

It didn’t take a detective to connect the dots. You had slept with your brother’s boss. You hadn’t meant to. You had no idea who he was. But the thing is... You want to do it again. You want to fuck him again.

[A/N 2.0] Part 2?

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Chapter 9

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

WC: 6.4K-ish

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI We do some jumping around here, flashbacks, frequent POV changes, and back and forth between different scenes. Really bad attempt at adding an accent to mask one’s voice, reunions, reunion sex , Oral f receiving, Tom (in general), Reader’s first time + creepy!Tom, mildly dubious consent - (just in case), fingering, unprotected PIV, loss of virginity, BiPolar AF!Tom, it’s not all terrible though, sweet Frankie, sleepy Frankie… there’s just a lot going on this Chapter. I apologize if I forgot anything!

Summary: Frankie comes home. No one knows he’s alive except for Santi. Not even you. And until Tom was dealt with, it had to stay that way. But how can Frankie stay away, knowing you’re so close, when the thought of seeing you again is what kept him alive?

A/N: Please read the warnings… there are definitely some potential triggers in this chapter. Some of which were extremely uncomfortable to write let alone read, so please just tread carefully. All mistakes are mine!

*I’m always always always grateful for any feedback so let me know what you think!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

—

What the fuck am I doing?

Frankie is suddenly frozen. He hears your front door unlock, he hears a voice. Your voice. But he can’t move. His spine is rigid and his feet feel like lead.

He’s here, in your driveway, in front of your house because he had to see you. He’s been staying at Santi’s, but tonight Frankie had been alone with his thoughts for far too long. He figured if he took a drive, it would help clear his head. His conscious mind didn’t tell him where he was going, but drove him to you nonetheless…

Frankie and Santi have been back on American soil for about four weeks now. Still healing from his injuries, he’s almost back to normal, but ribs take an incredibly long time to heal. He’s been patient, knowing that if anyone found out he was alive, it would ruin everything. But knowing you were so close and not being able to talk to or see you? He felt like he was losing his ever loving mind…

And now, he’s here. When he absolutely shouldn’t be. This could undo everything he and Santi have spent the last month trying to work out, simply because he couldn't wait a few more days…. Fuck!

Especially with Tom not being officially dealt with yet. He was putting you in danger by simply being here.

You, on the other hand, have been trying to get his attention, even though you have no idea who he is yet. Frankie never stopped to think about how you would react to seeing him. He just pulled into your driveway and walked right up the porch steps, but as soon as his knuckles made contact with the door, he realized how insane it was for him to just show up like this. He instantly turned around and tried to run off toward the car. It was dark outside, the only light besides the moon came from your porch, so he was partially in the shadows when he heard the door open which stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Hello?”

With his back still to you, Frankie shudders at hearing your voice. His urge to turn around and run to you so overwhelming, his fists were clenching and his fingernails were carving half moons into his palms.

“Um,” Frankie clears his throat to give his voice a deeper tone. “Uh, I was just uh lookin for Tom. Ha, yeah my dumbass didn’t even notice his truck was missin’. Sorry t’ bother ya… I’ll just be on my way….” And with that he starts walking back to the rental Santi had gotten him.

He prays it’s enough to deter you. He knows he fucked up by coming here. He wants nothing more than to feel the warmth of your skin, to hold you and let you know that he never stopped thinking about you the entire time he was gone.

But he couldn’t do that to you yet. You didn’t know he was alive and he selfishly rushed over without thinking- idiot.

He doesn’t hear a response to his half-assed attempt at a cover, so he relaxes slightly as he quickly approaches the driver's side door…. Completely missing a small divot in the gravel driveway and tripping over his own feet.

“Oof!” Frankie’s hands fly in front of him to catch himself against the side of the car. His palms smack hard with the screech of his skin against the glossy paint.

“Shit!” He’s grateful the car had been there or he probably would’ve fallen flat on his face.

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?!” No no no no no… He keeps his head down, but chances a glance over in your direction, and sees your figure running over to him. shit.

“Nah, m’ alright! Just tripped over my feet is all. I’m ok!” He really hates the way his voice sounds. He’s added a ridiculous southern drawl, pitifully trying to disguise it from you and it’s shaky and high pitched now with adrenaline from the fall.

“Here you dropped— this.” The last word coming out slowly.

“What the hell?”

Frankie hears it in your voice. He reaches a hand to his head and of course his hat is missing. Having fallen off of his head when he tried to catch himself.

He can hear your breathing pick up, can hear what you’re about to say before you say it and he winces— “Frankie??” Your voice is strained and raw. You’re crying.

Turning his head even further, he squeezes his eyes shut. Foolishly trying to hide his face in an almost childlike notion that if he can’t see you then you can’t see him.

He feels you near his shoulder.. You’re not touching him, but he can feel your presence. “Frankie?” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me? —please?”

Keeping his head down, he slowly opens his eyes. He can see you in his peripheral vision. The porch light glowing behind you shrouds your form in a damn near perfect halo of light.

With a deep breath he stands up straight, turning fully to face you.

Your intake of breath is sharp, almost piercing to his ears. Your hand quickly comes up to cover your mouth and he can see you trembling.

Frankie’s lips part, about to say something when you barrel into him, pushing him back against the car. You wind your arms around his body, as far as you can with his arms coming around to pull you in tight. Much like when he first saw Santi again, he tries to stifle his grunts of pain at the impact. Not giving a shit in the slightest when he’d gladly take this pain and then some if it meant he could keep holding you.

You’re not sure how long you both stay that way. Neither of you are willing to let go for fear that this isn’t real. Frankie’s rubbing your back, nuzzling his face into your hair. Your scent overwhelming him completely, as he tries to keep his breathing even.

“How?—How are you here right now?” The hurt laced in your tone is equal parts confusion and disbelief. You take another moment. You don’t want to pull away, but you have to know.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead Frankie. How are you here? What happened? Tom said…”— Frankie cuts you off, but only because he wants you both to preferably be sitting down when he tells you.

“Hey.” Frankie’s voice is stern, but calm.

“Can we maybe go inside to talk? You’re shivering.”

You nod, and Frankie’s hand comes up to slowly cup your cheek. His thumb ghosts over your bottom lip before he reaches down to grasp your hand.

You don’t say anything as you walk back to the house. His palm completely envelops your small hand and he makes no move to release it even as you walk inside.

—

You are unbelievably warm. Your velvety walls clench him so tightly within your heat, Frankie thinks he would gladly die here.

No, no if he was going to die, he wants it to be with his name on your lips as he goes down on you. Hearing your little whimpers, knowing that he could bring you there, bring you to such a height with only his mouth. He’s happy he’s not dead, but what a way to go.

Your hands are tangled in his hair, rubbing at his head, then pulling lightly on his curls when his tongue swipes in just the right way.

You pull him up to you and bring your hands to his cheeks. You frame his face and stare up at him. His eyes are glazed over and he feels drunk, drugged on your taste and he kisses you then. He wants you to taste yourself. To taste what he does when he loses himself in your decadent heat. He sucks the tip of your tongue into his mouth and flicks it with his own. “Frankie,” you moan his name and it is music to his ears.

He wants to hear you do it again.

“Frankie,” but your lips aren’t moving…..

“Frankie….” He can hear your voice clear as day, but you’re just smiling up at him…..

—

“Frankie…” you whisper lightly.

He doesn’t respond so you say his name a little louder, but soft enough so as not to startle him. “Frankie. Frankie, wake up..” You reach over and shake him lightly.

Frankie realizes like a bucket of cold water just hit him, that he’d been asleep. Unfortunately, the rest of his body is taking a little longer to catch up. So instead of saying anything, he just stares back at you.

“Are you ok?”

He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost, but nods his head reassuringly. He must’ve been really tired. It’s taking him longer than completely necessary to come back to himself.

“I need to go check on the baby… but I’ll be right back.”

“Wait… Tom? What time is it?”

He knows he’s been here too long.

“It’s about 5:30. It’s ok Frankie, he’s not here. He must’ve stayed with one of the guys last night.” He nods, slight panic settling in, but then you whisper, “I’ll be right back ok?”

“Ok,” his voice is still rough with sleep.

You laugh a little to yourself as you get up and make your way to the baby’s room. It’s still a little jarring to you that he’s lying in your bed. That’s he’s here at all… You can’t wrap your head around it.

You had talked for what seemed like hours. He went over what happened after their mission went sideways. How he survived, and how he managed to make it home. Obviously glazing over some of the more crude details for your sake, but it didn’t matter because he was here with you now.

At some point, you had both laid down, still talking, but facing each other. As his eyes got heavier, you didn’t have it in you to cut the conversation short.

Neither of you were thinking much of anything past just being here with the other. Tom was simply an afterthought that somehow escaped your minds entirely.

So when you felt sleep trying to pull you under, you asked him to stay.

And he stayed.

—

While you and Frankie had been getting reacquainted, Tom had been with Santi. He had convinced him to come out for the night, the objective being to get him shitfaced enough to let slip what had actually happened the day Frankie “died.”

Frankie couldn’t have picked a worse time to go see you. If everything went correctly, they would’ve gotten a confession from Tom, possibly with even Benny and Will present. However, Tom hadn’t been out with the guys in quite some time, so he went at it hard, having started well before he had even left to go meet Santi. Things got out of hand rather quickly and Santi knew that they would have to come up with a different idea. He was texting Frankie to let him know, but couldn’t get a reply. He tried texting him a few times with no response, so he stepped away and tried to call. It went straight to voicemail. “Fuck Fish, what are you doing??” He called his own house phone, kept mainly for emergencies, just to be sure that Frankie wasn’t there.

He called again and again and still couldn’t reach him.

—

Tom woke up with a start on Santi’s couch. He wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“Shit, Pope?” Tom grinds the heel of his palms into his eyes, ridding himself of sleep that is quickly replaced by panic. “Why the fuck didn’t you just take me home?”

“Calm down alright…. We’re lucky we even made it here. It was like one in the morning before we left the bar and since my place was closer, I told you just to crash here.”

Tom looks like he’s trying to remember, but is drawing a blank. Before he can question it, Santi gives him a swat to the shoulder, and chuckles to himself— really selling it.

“—You can’t remember shit can ya?”

To Tom, Santi had been matching him shot for shot, when in reality he had stopped much earlier after slipping the bartender a little something extra to give him something besides alcohol.

Tom just rubs his temples and groans, obviously hungover and Santi sighs quietly in relief. “Let me just get dressed and I’ll take you home”

-

Probably the best at keeping his composure when under pressure, Santi knew that he was running the risk of bumping into Frankie at Tom’s place because he knew that that’s exactly where he went. He just had to hope that Frankie knew what he was doing and would be gone by the time they got there. It didn’t stop Santi from sending text after text to try and give him a heads up though.

—

“What the fuck Fish?!?!”

As soon as Santi walks in, he lays into Frankie.

“Man I know, I know how much you wanted to see her, but fuck, we could’ve had this done by now.”

“I know. I’m sorry.“ Frankie rubs the back of his neck.

“What were you thinking?”

“I couldn’t get out of my head, alright? So I took a drive—

—That’s where I ended up. I tried to leave before she saw me, but, didn’t work out that way. I fucked up, but we can still do this.”

“Him waking up here is a red flag. It’s never happened before but I knew I couldn’t risk bringing him home. When I couldn’t get you, I knew where you went. We got lucky this morning, Fish… I don’t know that he’s going to be as loose going forward. He’s a piece of shit, but he’s smart and when he thinks anything’s off, he puts his guard up. We have to think of a new plan.”

What Santi doesn’t know is that Frankie already has a plan in motion…

“I think I got us covered — You feel like making a trip to the safe house?”

—

After Frankie leaves you, sure enough Tom comes waltzing in, hungover and looking like a wreck. Santi follows him in and tells him to go shower while he makes you guys breakfast. His “treat” for not getting him home last night.

As soon as Tom’s in the shower, Santi asks you what happened. You explain that Frankie showed up and told you about.. well, everything. You guys eventually fell asleep, but Frankie’s phone was already dead. He left as soon as he saw the messages which was shortly before they arrived. Santi knew they didn’t have time to discuss it before Tom would be out of the shower so he tells you to trust that he and Frankie have it figured out.

After Santi cooked some scrambled eggs and toast, everybody sat down to eat. It was quiet and more awkward than normal. Hungover Tom was whiny and would mope around most of the day unless he had a showing. You were grateful that today he did have a showing so you knew you would have some time to let your mind decompress since Tom arrived just moments after Frankie left…

—

You go back into your room after checking on the baby, to find Frankie searching for something.

“Do you have a charger? My phone’s dead and I forgot to let Santi know I left. It wasn’t exactly part of the plan for me to come here.”

“Of course, here..” you hand him the charger and he sets it down on your nightstand before taking your hand and sitting you both on the edge of the bed.

His thumb is making lazy circles over your hands as his gaze is centered there. You lean in and rest your head on his shoulder.

This is the closest contact you’ve had with him aside from the hug you shared when he first arrived. You don’t know what exactly is holding you back, holding him back… You don’t want to question anything, so you don’t bother pushing the issue. You both seem content enough with simply being in each others’ presence… Soaking up as much as you can while he’s here, you also don’t feel the need to fill the silence. The only sound currently is his breathing, strong inhales and slow exhales that bring you peace, knowing he’s right here with you.

Before you know it though, you hear an almost constant string of ‘buzz buzz buzzing’ sounds coming from the nightstand… Frankie’s phone finally having enough charge to turn on…

He knows there are sure to be several texts from Santi, but the sheer amount is staggering… He reluctantly breaks his hold of your hands and looks through the messages.

“Shit shit shit….. fuck. I’m sorry.. I have to go.”

Frankie stands up quickly and starts fumbling for his things.

“What’s wrong?”

You could tell he was nervous, almost frantic even, by the way he was patting himself down. His keys and wallet were in his jacket pocket already. All he needed was his phone, but he kept pacing the room, searching for any evidence of himself being there.

He held it together pretty well for the most part and you knew it was mainly for your benefit.

“I really shouldn’t have stayed. Tom could’ve shown up at any time last night. —I’m a fucking idiot.”

He clocks the hurt look on your face immediately, turning toward you.

“No, no, no… hey, hey.. I’m glad I came here.” He puts his hands delicately on either side of your face, making sure you hear him.

“Whatever happens, it’ll all be worth it to be here with you right now. But, I want to get this done right. Santi’s on his way here with Tom…. I fucked up, but I still have time if I leave now. I'll get a hold of you as soon as I can, ok?”

“Frankie… Frankie, wait.. please. It’s ok… I’m not scared of him anymore. I’m tired of hiding. I just got you back…”

“Not yet, not yet… We have to get him to admit what he did. I… wait”

Frankie is feeling around the pockets of his jeans, looking for something, before eventually finding it in his inner jacket pocket.

“Here, take this.”

“What is it??”

“Just keep it with you and leave it on. I think I have another idea.”

“Frankie, please..”

“I need you to trust me. We don’t have time right now, but I promise you….”

With both hands still on your face he leans his forehead against yours…

“I’m not going anywhere.”

—

After Santi left, Tom was supposed to get ready for one of his showings, leaving you alone to make sense of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Instead, he decided to take the day off. Basically he was just hungover, and used the excuse to reschedule the showing for another day. After a while, he went to sit on the couch. He turned on the TV and without looking toward you, he said “you seem different.”

You had mercifully just gotten the baby down for a nap…. The monitor sat in the kitchen so you could hear if he began to stir. You had hoped that it would be another quiet afternoon, but today you weren’t so lucky. Tom’s question instantly has you on edge.

“How so?”

“I don’t know. You seem, better?”

“Tom, what’s this about?”

You were tired. There was rarely a day that went by that Tom didn’t question you about one thing or another.

“Here. Come sit.” What?

Tom pats the spot on the couch next to him. You feel your insides churning. This is bad. He never, ever asks you to sit next to him. There were never kind touches, or cuddling or anything remotely resembling affection between the two of you and you were immediately on alert.

You slowly make your way to the couch and sit on the very edge. Cautious as to what in the hell this was.

Tom looks to you then. His eyes almost seem regretful? “I don’t tell you enough how beautiful you are. I’m sorry.” He reaches over and pats your knee. You don’t budge. Your eyes are focused on his hand as he slowly gives it a squeeze before returning to his lap.

“Tom. What’s going on?”

“I got a call earlier.” He seems withdrawn. Like he’s just trying to keep himself together.

When he doesn’t immediately keep going you ask, “ok, and what was the call about?” On the outside you carry yourself well. You act as though you have nothing to worry about. On the inside, everything is screaming to you that this is dangerous. Something is very very wrong. You have no idea what is about to be thrown at you.

“They um…. It was from Pope.”

“But he was just here. Is everything ok??”

“Yeah, yeah he’s fine. He actually received the call..” His eyes are unfocused, just blankly staring toward the TV. The voices droning on in the background meld together and set the tone.

You stayed quiet. There was no upside to rushing him.

“Did I ever tell you how I met Fish?” Oh no, oh no….. fuck this was bad.

“That was Frankie right?” Your voice cracks on his name.

“Yeah.” his head hits the back cushion of the couch and he looks over to you. He looks like he might cry.

“Francisco “Catfish” Morales. You know he was like a little brother to me. He joined the team shortly before Benny did. He’d known Pope for a long time and he was fresh in the service. They always come in feeling high and mighty. Ready to serve God and Country and he was no different. He was good, I’ll give him that. He hit all his marks, and was a helluva pilot right out of the gate.”

“Tom, why are you talking about Frankie?”

Of course you now knew the truth. Frankie had survived his ordeal. The man looking at you now having been the cause. But now Frankie was back home. Obviously, you were different today. You had a piece of yourself, one you had thought gone for good, find its way back to you and you weren’t letting it go again.

But to Tom, he thought you still believed Frankie was missing. So you played along. Anxious to see where this was going.

“Tom?”

“They found him.”

Tom’s eyes squeezed closed, tears that had collected in the corners were now trickling down his cheeks. In all the years you have been with Tom, he has never cried. Not once. This entire thing unnerved you to no end.

“Is he—?”

“They found his body.”

Hearing the words, even knowing they were a lie, made you gasp. Tears immediately slipping down your cheeks.

“But how?” You choke out. “You all knew the likelihood of him surviving the fall was low, but if they’re just now finding him—” You gulp, “how would they know who he was?”

“Dog tags. Fish always wore his dog tags.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. You couldn't remember ever seeing Frankie wear dog tags.

“Even though we’ve been out of it the last couple of years, he felt they had some greater meaning, or something like that.”

He seemed genuinely distraught

“I'm sorry Tom. I know he was your friend.” The words feel like acid on your tongue.. Tom was not his friend. But, with the way he was acting, you almost felt bad for him.

Out of nowhere, Tom continues…

“We were arguing.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were talking about you.” He brings a hand up to his face, rubbing his jaw.

“What about me?” He instantly snaps his attention to you. “Don’t play dumb,” he practically hisses the words to you. “You know exactly what we were talking about.”

And just like that he softens back up.. “I just needed to hear it from him. Needed him to admit to what he’d done.”

“You never told me what happened that day. Just that he went missing. That he slipped and fell and that you couldn’t find him.”

Tom doesn’t seem to hear you. He just continues on….

“He kept trying to dodge my questions. Kept saying we didn’t have time to talk about it blah blah blah… He just didn’t want to admit it.”

“Ok. So, what happened?”

“I got him to talk. Got him to finally admit to his betrayal. To yours…..”

Tom is looking at you and you feel a stab of guilt for your part in what had happened. Did you regret it? Not at all. What you had with Tom was a lie. A farce. Just a decoy to help protect your mother.

What you had with Frankie was Real. And you could never regret something like that.

But you were married to Tom and that fact bothered you. You weren’t a cheater, even though you didn’t believe that that’s what you had done. It still bothered you that to anybody else, you had.

You decide to try and keep the conversation going… “Ok. Then what happened?”

“Hmph, something I never thought I'd have to do. Never imagined that I’d have to put him down.”

There it was.

You weren’t sure how to respond.

Tom catches the shock on your face, and tries to counter, but you cut him off.

“What do you mean by put down?” You knew. You knew exactly what he meant, but it was your turn to want to hear him speak the words. “I just mean I had to put him in his place. Fish never was good at lying so I asked him flat out.”

“What did he say??”

“He told me what happened. Between you two.”

“But I had already told you what you needed to know, Tom. Why would you question something you already knew?”

“Because what little info I got from you had to be forced out of you!” You wince at the memory. Pushing down the bile trying to make its way out of your throat, you were grateful that you’d broken his nose before because he chose to leave you alone for the most part. But that night was something you wanted to forget.

“Ok, so what did he have to say that was different from what I told you??”

“Not so much different. He very clearly fucked you. Tell me, how was it for you?”

“Tom, we’re not having this conversation. You asked me to come to you. What’s your point.”

“Part of me held out hope. That maybe he could’ve lived through it. After all the bullshit we’ve lived through, just seemed like a shitty way to go. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut….”

There it was again. You wanted to latch on to it, like Tom was trying to admit to what he had done. You just didn’t want to seem too eager and tip him off that something was up.

“You still haven’t told me how it was with him? Did he worship you? Did he make love to you?”

“God, Tom stop! He’s gone. Why are you still acting like this?”

“He made a comment to me before, uh before everything happened..”

“And? What did he say?”

“Oh, he told me that he didn’t fuck you. He said that he “loved” you. Told me he worshipped you and showed you what it was supposed to be like.”

You’re crying now. The tears are running down your face as you try to quietly blink them away. You couldn’t believe that Frankie’s words were coming out of Tom’s mouth. Why?? Why would he tell you this?Where was he going with it?

“My pretty little wife, did you enjoy yourself when you fucked my best friend? Did he show you what love was supposed to be like? Hmm??”

“Tom stop. I’m done with this. Either get to your point or leave me the fuck alone.”

“You forget sweetheart, it doesn’t matter to me what you do… you’re mine. I’ll never let you be rid of me.”

“Yes, I know. You remind me of that fact often, but it doesn’t mean I have to look at you, or like you, or respect you. You go and do whatever you want. I could honestly care less. And now, I’m done listening to you.”

“Good.” He seems smug. You wish you could wipe the look right off of his face.

You get up and storm to the kitchen. You’re still not sure what the fuck was even happening. Why was he being this way?

After a long pause, “You know,” he hollers at you. “I think you did like it. Didn’t you?” He’s still sitting on the couch..

You outwardly sigh because this wasn’t going to end. He was itching for a fight and you were the unfortunate soul who had to deal with it.

“What do you mean Tom? Huh? What did I like?”

Tom just glares over at you now. His eyes are still a little bloodshot and he looks tired. He stands up and makes his way over. You were at the sink, trying to start a load of dishes to assuage your frustration before he decided to chime in again.

You can feel him standing behind you. He’s not touching you, but you can practically feel his stale breath on your neck.

“You liked how he fucked you, didn’t you?” His voice is lower, his words said through clenched teeth…

“Was he very different from me?”

“You tell me Tom….. how were all the other women you’ve slept with during our marriage?”

“That’s not what I asked....” Tom doesn’t miss a beat, and continues.

“There's no harm in just answering a simple question sweetheart. I saw to it that it would never happen again, so just tell me…”

Again. He’s being vague, but you are bound to get him to spit it out. The recorder Frankie gave you sitting safely in your pocket. You decide then that this was probably your last chance. Tom was smart, but today he was hungover, and not on his game. That wouldn’t be the case going forward. It was now or never, so.. you decided to tell him the truth.

“Yes.” Stated simply, no malice, no sarcasm, just the simple truth.

“Is that right?” You turn around and face him now. Your back against the sink. He doesn’t back away and instead is barely inches from you.

“Yes, Tom…. I’m not sure what else you want me to say. I answered your question, so leave me alone.”

“Ah ah ah, no ma’am….. I want to hear about it. I want to know all the dirty details about you and Fish….”

“You’re sick, you know that? Why? Why would you want to know? He’s gone Tom, just let it go!” You’re sick to your stomach because you’re not sure how this is going to play out… he was deranged and out of his mind.

“Yeah he’s gone. So it shouldn’t hurt to just tell me what happened that night should it??” He moves in just a little closer, essentially caging you in, but you stand firm. You’re not scared of him anymore.

“We had sex Tom… as you already know. Unless I need to explain to you how sex works, you know what happens…” God please, why was he doing this?

“I’m well aware of the mechanics babe… but that’s not what he told me you did. He told me that he “loved you,” tell me the difference…. Did he love you?”

You can’t help your small smile at that because, yes… He did love you. You were sure of it. And you loved him. And he was alive, but Tom didn’t know that. You look at your feet for a second and then look back up at Tom.

“Yes—he did.”

You brace yourself as you feel his hands instantly grip your upper arms… not painfully, but firm.

“How so?” Tom says, gritting his teeth. You’re not sure what he’s after, but his voice almost breaks on the last word. He’s in pain. Not because he loves you, more like the equivalent of a child finding out someone else played with their favorite toy. An object. His jealousy was the result of pure possession.

“He took care of me, Tom. He made me feel wanted, not owned.” You feel his grip tighten, but you’re emboldened by your feelings for Frankie, that you know he feels too. So you continue in spite of the almost unhinged look he’s giving you now.

“Frankie Listened to me, he talked to me, he.. he loved me. And then, he made love to me. For the first time in my life, I got to experience what that felt like.”

Tom’s grip on your arms is past the point of pain now and you’re sure there will be bruises, but you press on….

“So to answer your question, my dear husband… Yes, he loved me.”

You wait a moment to allow the words to sink in, before hitting it home—

“—And I loved him.”

You close your eyes, because you know what happens next. You oddly feel more free than you have in years… Telling Tom exactly what you thought and not worrying about the consequences. But nothing happens. Instead, you feel him loosen his iron grip on your arms as his hands fall to his sides.

When you open your eyes, he’s just staring at you. His empty stare makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“I killed him.”

Surely you’re not hearing him correctly, but your jaw still drops at the words.

“Tom?”

“I killed him.”

You know you need to speak but your mouth refuses to form any words… you’re just standing there, frozen. Was it fear? Or shock? A combination of both?

Shock that he actually admitted it, on recording, but also fear for what this meant moving forward. The only thing you get out is the question you’d been asking yourself every day since Frankie went missing… With tears running down your cheeks you quietly ask, “why?”

And then his demeanor completely changes…

“Because, baby, he wasn’t just going to stop. He would’ve kept coming back, to try to get you to run away with him, and I couldn’t have that… to think about you leaving hurt me so much…. You’re my wife, and the mother to my child. I couldn’t let him ruin our perfect family.”

You were used to his mood swings in general, but this was like a completely different entity had taken over and your jaw hangs loose with the weight of it.

Frankie’s alive. He’s alive…. You’ve seen him, you’ve held him, but Tom’s delusional state leaves you feeling completely unnerved. He hadn’t succeeded in killing Frankie. By the Grace of God he survived, but what was to stop Tom from finishing the job once he found out he was alive??

He backs up and reaches for your hand.. “Here, come with me..” He carefully leads you to the couch where he pulls down a photo album from the bookshelf. He sits down beside you and opens it up. “See? It’s our wedding day…” He nudges your shoulder with his own. “We looked pretty happy here didn’t we?”

You reluctantly look down at the album. Taking you back to another time, another life. You did in fact look happy. You were about to begin a new life with someone you thought was going to take care of you. You were nervous, but could’ve never dreamt what life would have in store for you.

“And that night? I’ll never forget it. I know you won’t either. It was your first time after all.” He’s looking at you with a hungry expression that makes you want to vomit.

You remember that day…

—

The wedding was small, but charming. Your family; your mama, Abuelo and your cousins were all there and you were truly excited to take this new step in life even if it wasn’t what you had intended. Tom even seemed genuine in the beginning.

The night in question was your first time being intimate with anyone. And it set the stage for what you could expect from there on out. The night wasn’t limited to just one occurrence either. The very first time, Tom, was extremely gentle with you. He tried to be soothing and talk you through it, preparing you as it was likely to be painful. He was also quite a bit older and much more experienced and you trusted him to take care of you.

He brought you to orgasm for the first time using his fingers and kissing you through it. He wanted you to be comfortable before moving further and it was actually… Wonderful—

You’d never experienced an orgasm before and if this was how it was, you could only imagine what it would be like to actually have sex. You were anxious, but also excited to take the next step.

When he entered you for the first time, he was slow and tried to allow you time to accommodate his size. He made sure you were ok and continued as you nodded.

He made little comments during, like, “you’re so tight. My God, I’m not gonna last baby ....”

It didn’t take long before he pulled out abruptly and came on your stomach. His words a blur, but he kept babbling things like “so amazing… you’re so beautiful.. I can't wait to do it again..” but you were too overwhelmed to really hear him.

You were sore, but not terribly uncomfortable. You were still reeling from everything that had happened in general. Tom had his arm around you and you both just laid in the afterglow as a married couple. There was maybe fifteen minutes of peace, before Tom was ready for round two.

“Alright pretty girl, let’s see what kind of mess you made….” You knew what sex entailed, you knew the first time would hurt, and you also knew that you were likely to bleed the first time… but seeing it, and seeing Tom’s expression change from curiosity to hunger, made you visibly shudder…

“Look at you… that’s beautiful.” He wasn’t looking at your face.

Between your legs was a mess of your slick tinged with blood. You were immediately embarrassed and moved to get up and clean yourself off, but Tom stopped you with his hand… “No wait, leave it…. It'll help make it easier this time…”

“We’re doing it again?” Your voice was full of confusion, you thought it was a one and done thing, not multiple times in one night.

“Of course, it’s our wedding night sweetheart. I plan to make love to you all night, and then again and again for the rest of our lives…” You gulp, but he moves in and catches your lips in a greedy kiss. One that leaves your head spinning as he lays you back down. He parts your legs and makes a show of using your slick to coat his cock before he enters you, never again as gentle as the first time.

—

You think he has wholly and completely lost his mind. He was speaking as if he hadn’t put you through hell the last seven years. As if you both had always been in love and that this was just a little blip in your otherwise beautiful lives together. He was insane.

“Why are you showing this to me Tom?”

“To show you.. No, to remind you who you belong to. Who that kid belongs to…” he chuckles at his exact use of the words he spoke to Frankie back in Colombia.

“If I belong to you then why did you have to kill Frankie???”

“Because he was asking for it. He would’ve just kept coming back for you like a goddamned golden retriever, trying to save you from me. But I put that pathetic dog down—

And now,”

Tom moves to sit closer to you, “I have the both of you to myself and everything can go back to normal.”

“Go to hell Tom. I am never going to be happy with you; you’re a fucking monster...” You can’t help break in your voice or the tears as they cascade down your face. He just smirks ever so slightly and leans in closer…

“Maybe. But I’m your monster…. Isn’t. That. Right?” Tom punctuates the last word by tapping his finger hard against your nose.

He gets up and chuckles to himself, walking down the hallway to your shared bedroom. He closes the door and leaves you to your thoughts.

Your heart is racing, but you do your best remain calm. You gently pat the pocket holding the voice recorder and will your breathing to slow down. You fucking got him. You had Tom, on tape, confessing to murder.

And you couldn’t wait to give it to Frankie.

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @just-here-for-the-moment @harriedandharassed @hnt-escape @quica-quica-quica @bitchwitch1981 @jb2856 @readingiskeepingmegoing @dashavau @queridopascal-main @littlemisspascal @tanzthompson @something-tofightfor @imaswellkid @sunnysidekit @autumnleaves1991-blog @mymo-n @wildemaven @pastelnap @rhoorl @pimosworld @spookyxsam @luciferiorbxtch @alwaysdjarin @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

A/N: I’m always super anxious about posting, but am just trying not to let myself overthink it. Let me know your thoughts and as always, thank you for reading! Your comments, questions, like and reblogs absolutely make my day and I appreciate every one of them ❤️

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {4}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! x

Warnings: language.

~ Nesta ~

I haven’t said a word to my husband since I caught him fucking his hand in the shower, and he hasn’t said a word to me, either. In fact, when he came out of the bathroom two days ago, he barely even looked in my direction before getting dressed, stuffing clean clothes into a bag, and leaving. Apparently he never intended to come home, he had only intended to get more of his things then go back to Feyre and Rhysand’s.

Which is where I am now, sitting in the driveway, trying to gain enough nerve to make my way inside.

I want to ask him to come home.

I want to ask him to go to marriage counseling. 

I want him to not give up, not yet, not until we try to see if we can fix this.

I’ve spent two days trying to come up with the right words to say, two days barely sleeping and picking up my phone to text him, only to delete every word that I’d typed. 

This wasn’t something to text about. I had to do this face-to-face. 

It’s Wednesday, so I know that he’s here because he has every Wednesday off. I did text Feyre though, just in case, and worried that he was off living his best life until I got my sister’s reply. He’s here and making us dinner. If you’re going to piss each other off….please wait until he’s done with the steaks…

It was a fair enough request.

I wouldn’t want to piss off the chef. Then no one’s happy.

Once I get out of my car, I walk through the garage and in through the door that leads to the kitchen. I open the door to see Feyre at the sink, rinsing off dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. She gives me a smile as I close the door behind me. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, quietly. Cassian is nowhere to be seen. “How was dinner?”

“So good,” she said, practically drooling. “I can’t say that I mind having a professional chef at my beck and call.”

I snort, completely understanding. Over the last week, I’ve been living off of frozen meals and takeout. Nothing compared to Cassian’s cooking. 

“They’re downstairs,” Feyre says, turning off the faucet and turning around to lean against the countertop. “He, uh…has been in rare form the last few days.”

Well, I did catch him in the shower with his cock in his hand, then he got pissed at me for existing and stormed off into the night, so…I can imagine. 

“I’m going to ask him to come home,” I say, fiddling with my keys. “I don’t think he’ll even say yes, but I need him to know that that’s what I want.”

Feyre’s eyes softened as she nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

I follow Feyre down the hall and into the basement, where Cassian and Rhysand are playing Call of Duty. Nyx is on the floor, building something with Legos, and the second he spots me, he’s running toward me and flinging himself into my arms. I catch him with a hug and a kiss, and when I set him back on the floor, the game on the TV is paused and both men are looking at me.

Rhysand gives me a wan smile. 

Cassian’s expression is emotionless. 

Feyre clears her throat. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Nyx frowns. “But Aunt Nesta just got here.”

“I know, but it’s late,” she says, picking him up. “Rhys, come on. We need you to read in your wild things voice.”

“Of course,” he says, and gives Cassian a pat on the shoulder before following his wife and son up the stairs and out of sight.

Cassian is still staring at me.

My pathetic self gives him a little wave.

Looking exhausted, he exits out of he and Rhysand’s game before starting a round by himself. “What are you doing here?”

No hi. No how’s it going? Just a what are you doing here?

I rock back on my heels. “I thought we could talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about. It’s late.”

“It’s seven.”

“I’m tired.”

“Please, Cass.” I must’ve sounded tragic, because he glances at me over his shoulder and sighs. 

When he turns back to the TV, his focus on his game, he says, “Fine.”

I walk to the couch and sit on the opposite end, far from him. “Smelled good upstairs. I heard you made steak. Did you make your garlic butter?”

“Yup.”

“And mashed potatoes? It’s always so good with mashed potatoes.”

He doesn’t answer, he just takes a deep breath. “What is it you want to talk about, Nesta?”

I have to remind myself not to get pissed. I’m here to fix things, not make them worse. Getting pissed, yelling at him, would just make things worse.

I wait a few seconds to see if he gives me his attention again. When he doesn’t, I say, “I want you to come home.”

His thumbs continue to fly over the sticks. “Why?”

“Because I miss you.” I hate that my voice breaks. We just started talking and already I’m on the brink of crying.

But that break, that show of emotion, draws my husband’s eye.

I push, taking advantage of his attention. “I miss you, Cassian. I don’t know what happened to us, but I want to fix whatever it is.”

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes leaving mine and landing on the controller still in his hands. “You want to fix us, but you don’t know what the problem is?”

I know. I know what part of the problem is, but I’m not ready to dive headfirst into my own faults tonight. “I want to try, Cass. I tried to give you space, but I miss you. I need you home.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I know it’s only a few seconds but it feels like so much longer. The silence stretches on for an eternity, and my tears start falling.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he says, at last, still staring at his controller laying limp in his hand. 

“We don’t have to stay in the same bed,” I say, wiping at my cheeks. “One of us can stay on the couch, and I’ll give you all the space you need, I just want you home. I need you home. Nothing will be fixed if you’re here, if we’re not talking.” I take a breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “If we’re not trying. We need to try.”

“I was trying.” Although his voice remains soft, he’s angry. “I have been trying, Nesta.”

“I know,” I breathe. “And now I’m ready to try too.”

His fingers flex. His body is tense. I know he’s trying to stay in control.

He shakes his head and tosses the controller on the coffee table in front of us before dropping his face into his hands. 

I don’t say anything while he processes.

I sit quietly, wiping my tears that won’t seem to stop falling. He drops his hands a moment later and now he just looks exhausted.

“This isn’t fair.” He refuses to look at me. “It’s not fair that we have to do this on your terms. All of the sudden, you're ready to try, but why now? Because I finally put my fucking foot down? I left, Nesta, because I was fucking tired. I was tired of trying to be a good husband and you not giving a damn. I’m still tired. But now that you’re finally ready to work on our marriage, you just expect me to keep trying? I’m tired of trying! I’m tired of working on this and getting nowhere!”

I try not to flinch at his raised voice, but my hands find one another and clasp together, helping ground me.

“I understand,” I say, even though it hurts. “I get it. I do. And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t feel that way. I’m just…selfishly…asking you to come home.”

“And what then?” He still won’t look at me. “We go back to ignoring each other and being the most miserable roommates of all time?”

“I thought it might be a good idea to talk to someone.”

He scoffs. “Like who? My brothers? Your sisters?”

Reminding myself not to let his anger affect mine, I take a deep breath. “A professional, a marriage counselor.” The sound of my husband’s laughter was not the response I was expecting and my voice was like ice when I went on. “What's so funny?”

“You won’t talk to me about our fucked up marriage, but you’re willing to talk to someone else?”

Grinding my teeth together, I took a deep breath. “It’s not just me, Cassian, I want us both to talk to her.”

“No.”

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m not going.”

“I’ve already contacted a woman who has come highly recommended to me, and she can get us in already next week. Monday, ten a.m.”

“Call and cancel.”

“No.” The hold I have on my anger is fading, and he can tell from that one word alone.

He finally looks at me and his eyes are ablaze. “No?” 

“No. I’m not canceling. We are going, and we’re going to fix this, because the idea of you leaving me, of you not being my husband anymore, makes me sick, Cassian.” The words rush out of me. My tone matches his. “So you can be stubborn, and you can be an asshole, because I know I deserve it, but I’m not canceling. If you’re going to leave me, it’s not going to be because we didn’t try.”

I have no clue what’s going on inside of his head. All I see is his frustration as he stares at me, his stubborn nature mirroring my own. He doesn’t back down. Neither do I. We just sit there, staring at one another, waiting for the other to break. 

“And if counseling doesn’t work?” He asks, at last, his gaze hard.

It will. It has to. “Then that will be that.”

He swallows, gaze breaking from mine and drifting to where his controller sat. “I’ll sleep on the couch—”

I release the breath I’d been holding since I walked into Feyre’s house. “Thank you, Cass—”

“I didn’t finish.” It doesn’t escape my notice that he won’t look at me. “I’ll sleep on the couch when I come home. I’m not coming home before we talk to whoever you found.”

“Cassian, that’s days from now—”

“And I need time to think, Nes.”

I didn’t let the familiar nickname affect me. I could grant him that, even if I wanted to beg him to come home tonight. “And when will you come home?”

“Monday.”

I nod. “Monday, then.”

He picks up his controller, all but telling me our conversation is over. Accepting his dismissal, I get to my feet and head for the stairs. Just before I reach them, I turn and look at where he sits on the couch, not moving. He hasn’t started a new game yet, still just staring at his controller.

“I love you,” I say, not giving myself time to reconsider the words.

I don't wait to hear if he says it back.

[snapthistiger]

exercise 12042023

bike ride to the gym

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

4 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

3 x 10 cable press

3 x 10 cable row

bike ride to my Mom's house, then home

the gym workers received Dove chocolates

bottom = my Mom was awake. we took a walk with the sitter down the driveway and to the stop sign at the end of the block and back. my Mom was up at 630am, calling my sister about going Christmas shopping today. my Mom has been keyed up on Christmas since we turned the calendar over to December. she started fretting about what we are preparing for Christmas eve and about where everyone would sit in her house. she has these "manic energy" days about once a week. i told my sister that i will take my Mom shopping at Walmart on Friday. i don't think we could manage the mall, so Walmart is my alternative.

beautiful, cool weather

top left = Christmas tree in the exercise room

top right = Christmas ornament i found on the road

called about the meal delivery program for my Mom. they deliver 5 frozen meals a week on Monday and a box of individual milks and fruit cups. i discussed with my sister but she thinks my Mom won't eat the food. my Mom still has this feeling that she isn't old and that she is better than old people in some way. Mom also gives my sister the business about what she eats.

picked up gum balls in the back yard from the sweet gum tree

worked on the Microsoft cybersecurity course

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[riflebrass]

I've made a previous post about the gated community where I like to set up my base in Project Zomboid. There's a couple acres surrounded by a tall iron fence that you can jump but the zombies can't. The only way for them to get in is down a long driveway that is also lined with more fences.

I usually set up my base at the bottom house because it has a fireplace. Unfortunately the zombies pretty well trashed this house. Worst of all they destroyed the garage door which I use as my primary entrance. I have no way to fix it so I decided to do a different house. I set up my base in the middle house. When I was playing PZ on a server with a buddy that was his base. There's no fireplace but it's still a house. Unfortunately again all the doors and windows were smashed. I had to replace one exterior door then I barricaded the doors and windows.

Once I more or less got my base fortified and put my stuff where I wanted it I decided it was time to clear and loot the top house. There were a couple zombies inside but nothing too serious. Best of all the house was in great condition. Nothing broken at all AND it had a fireplace like I wanted. So now I've been spending a couple days ripping the boards off the windows of my old place and barricading this new place and moving all my stuff over. We're a little over 2 weeks into the game. Food in refrigerators are starting to go stale so I need to start getting frozen foods, canned goods, and dried goods stockpiled. Water is going to be another big one. I need to find some office buildings to get a water cooler and some extra jugs. Electricity will be going out before too terribly long. I've already swiped two generators. One for my house and one for the gas station down the road. I just need to find a generator skill mag so I can actually hook them up. A fuel trailer would be a good idea while I'm at it. Next I think I need to start tracking down skill books/mags in general. Somewhere along the way I want to raid a dental office or clinic for enough supplies to make an infirmary in my base.

[queenmayor23]

Grand Piano III {Dean Winchester X Male Reader}

this one's a little angsty

Moments later, Dean wakes up in his back seat. He looks out the window to see dust being kicked up by the spinning wheels and rows upon rows of corn. TJ can see the confusion on Dean's face through the rearview mirror.

TJ: Shut up. We're almost there.

TJ pulls into a gravel driveway leading to a brick shed and a matching house next to it. The corn almost acted like a magical portal to the hidden property. TJ parks and shuts down the engine. He gets out, walking to the door of the house.

TJ: Hurry up if you want me to help.

Dean gets out of the car and follows the rock walkway to the porch, where TJ holds the door for him.

TJ: All the way down and hang a right.

Dean: After getting punched in the face, I don't trust you walking behind me.

TJ: That's hilarious. Either you walk in that kitchen, or I send my dogs after you, and you'll never see John or Sammy again.

Dean took the safer route and began walking. Staring at the back of his ex-boyfriend's head was the only thing that kept TJ from killing Dean right there and giving him time to process the mixed emotions.

TJ: Sit.

Dean sits at the kitchen table while TJ digs in the freezer. He pulls out some frozen peas and an ice pack, tosses the peas on the table next to Dean, and closes the freezer. TJ fixes himself a glass of whiskey and downs it like water. It was a taste he was just getting used to, even though his trash can would say differently. He fixes another glass and a separate one for Dean, walking it over to him.

TJ: Dean...

TJ struggles to find the words he wants to say. Was it "I hate you and want you dead," or "Why come back now just to ruin the sliver of happiness I just found" or maybe "I loved you, and I thought you loved me, but I guess I loved for both of us"? But the real question looming in TJ's mind was, "Why don't you love me?". But TJ didn't get to ask any of those questions before Dean spoke up, holding the peas to his cheek.

Dean: "Spirits of Vengeance", huh?

TJ: I bought the lounge a month after the mission with you and John. I was so mad.

Dean: He's your father too.

TJ: Was he? I've been alive twenty-seven years and have seen him a grand total of five times. I was ten when he introduced me to hunting. He had me chasing demons, poltergeists, and other unnatural creatures to prove myself to him.

Dean: It was your choice to start hunting.

TJ: He made me think he would love me if I eliminated all the monsters. So after graduation, I packed up and rode around the country on a hunting tour, and my mother hated me for it. She warned me of what kind of person John was, but I had to realize that he was the real monster on my own.

Dean: Dad was a hero!

TJ: He was my hero too, but I grew up Dean.

TJ walks back to his kitchen counter, smashing the ice pack on his knuckles.

Dean: I need you to help me find him. I don't want to drag Sam back unless I have to. At least that's what Dad would've wanted. 

TJ: Did he leave any clues as to what he was hunting or where? This wouldn't be the first time John went on a bender and forgot to tell his puppy dog.

Dean: What are you talking about?

TJ: Amherst. Clifton. Laredo. Mesa. He's always missing, then a week later, after you search the continental US, he pops up and is fine.

Dean: How do you-

TJ: Sam knows how to say thank you.

Dean: Wait, Sam? Does he know?

TJ: No. All he knows is that I'm the idiot who doesn't know how to say no to his brother.

Dean sighs in a mixture of both relief and frustration.

Dean: Dad has never been gone for this long. He's in real trouble if he's not dead by now. I can't do this alone.

TJ: Yes, you can. You don't need John to limit what you can do. He's just an anchor that slowly drowns you until you feel like there's no more hope, and by then, you're dead or mentally unstable.

Dean: Yeah. Well, I don't want to do this alone.

TJ: You still haven't told me what he was hunting?

Dean: Oh, right. Let's see. Where the hell did I put that thing?

TJ reached into his back pocket and slid out the tape recorder.

TJ: Looking for this.

Dean sees the tape recorder and nods his head.

TJ: Found it when I searched your car. I listened to it, and he sounds like he could be Winchester wasted or actually in trouble.

Dean: Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About two months ago, they found a guy's car, but he'd vanished. Completely MIA.

TJ: Kidnapping?

Dean: Yeah, well, there was another one in April, then December of '04, '03, '98, '92... ten of them over the past twenty years- All men, same five-mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I got that voicemail a few days ago.

TJ: Wait, why weren't you with him?

Dean: I was working my own gig in New Orleans.

TJ: Aww, he let you go on a trip by yourself?

TJ mocks Dean and takes the ice pack off his fist, feeling the melted ice.

Dean: I'm twenty-six, dude. Can you stop that?

TJ: I know you're twenty-six. We're nine months apart to the day.

Dean's face scrunches up.

Dean: How did I not know that?

TJ: You never asked.

Dean has a dumbfounded look on his face.

TJ: The message had an EVP saying it "can never go home" I ran into something like that about six months ago. It came after Richie, but there wasn't a body because she was cremated for cost-saving measures. So we sent her home.

Dean: How?

TJ chuckles, looking around the room.

TJ: This house wasn't always brick, and I'm not stupid enough to build it out of straw. Jackson drove his truck right through the middle of what was a bedroom and dining room. House caved in, Richie bought Jackson a new truck, and I started laying bricks that same weekend. The baseboards, door frames, and ledges are hollowed out and filled with salt, and everything wood is primed with mountain ash.

Dean nods his head, taking in the information about the house. Then, Dean takes a breath and asks the question.

Dean: So, are you and Jackson a thing, or what's your situation?

TJ smiles, looking up.

TJ: Jackson and I are in a business relationship. He helps me out at the lounge and around here while I'm out hunting.

Dean: What does he get out of your "business relationship"?

TJ: A slightly more than minimum wage paycheck every other week and a hunting buddy.

Dean's eyes widen, and he takes the now-thawed peas from his cheek.

TJ: What? I wanted to give him more, but he wanted the money to go into the lounge. I told him I had to give him enough to get groceries, pay his bills, and get gas. He only has truck insurance because I listed his truck as a company vehicle. There was this time before when we were a thing. He proposed, and I said no. But we're still as close as we were then, just as friends.

Dean: Can I ask why you said no?

TJ: I'll give you one guess.

Dean contemplates open-mouthed. When it shuts, it shows TJ that Dean realizes the answer. 

TJ: Jack wasn't heartbroken for himself but for me. The whole town kept telling me I was insane for holding on so tight to you, but Jackson knew I needed a friend to help me, and he became that friend. He got me to stop answering your calls because he knew I would halt my world just to help. Just to hear from you when you and John get into another situation. Come on, Dean, I knew John didn't think you were calling me. You never called me by name when you called, you said my trigger word, and I turned into a mindless drone for you.

Dean: I don't have a trigger word for you. What do you mean, a trigger word?

TJ: Let's keep talking and see if it comes up. It's been almost two years since I stopped answering your calls, and now you want to check on me?

Dean: I thought what got Dad either got you too, or you took him.

TJ: So you thought I took John for what? To have tea with him, sit down and gossip about my ex-boyfriends. Oh wait, my first boyfriend didn't love me and milked me emotionally dry, then I found out he's my half-brother. After that, my second boyfriend and I broke up because I was still hooked on my first boyfriend. Yep, that casual conversation with a man I've spoken to five times in twenty-seven years.

Dean: No. I didn't mean it like that, alright. I was running out of options, and you were the first person that came to mind.

TJ: Do you hear yourself? You only think of me when you have no other choice. Is that how you truly see me? A last resort? Nobody else wanted to go on a wild goose chase with you, so you're stuck asking me for help.

Dean: Baby, I'm trying to keep you safe. To do that, I need you with me. I'll deal with Dad later, but I need you.

Chuckling came from TJ's mouth.

TJ: There it is.

Dean: What?

TJ: The word. Baby. But it's not going to work this time. Dean, you are welcome to stay for the night, but you need to leave tomorrow. I'm done.

Dean sat silently at the table, not knowing TJ's next move but also baffled at two simple words he thought he would never hear from TJ, "I'm done". TJ turned away from Dean and gathered, from his refrigerator, fresh produce and some rabbit meat to cook dinner. He cooked in silence, Dean not saying anything. TJ handed Dean a beer with his meal and filled his own glass once more. They ate in silence. After dinner, TJ washed the few dishes and escorted Dean to a guest bedroom.

TJ: Sit tight while I get you some clothes.

TJ leaves and returns with clothes and towels for Dean to shower with.

TJ: There is soap, toothbrushes and toothpaste, and hair products galore in the bathroom across the hall. Go crazy.

Dean: Thank you. And I honestly mean that.

TJ: It's just what a friend would do. If you need me, I'm upstairs, the third door on the right. And I have my own bathroom, so I'm not going to sneak up on you and stab you in the back. 

Dean chuckles. TJ goes upstairs to his room and gets ready for a shower himself.

[underturnedapplecart]

Good Morning,

I feel like I want to die and can't tell anyone.

Two days ago, an internet troll took two solid days to run my name through the mud. He peppered me with calls, laugh reacts, etc. …That's not so bad, except.

Except I ran out of money this week. Except I found out this house has an end date. Except everything is falling apart in my real life, and the only friends I have are on Facebook.

So now, going online to talk about my very real mental issues feels dangerous. I thought my Facebook circle limited to people who would, at the very least, -let- me be crazy. I even dropped over 350 people when I switched accounts. I only added safe folks. Or so I thought, because he started out encouraging. And took offense that I didn't thank him. I used Matthew 6 1:4 on this Christian to remind him not to ask for gratitude openly on Facebook, and he went for two days about how nasty a person I am, who doesn't do anything for himself, and how I will be asking for money soon. …He really did pick the wrong target. A slew of my mutual friends came to each of his posts, with screenshots and evidence that I'm just a quiet generous person having a mental health crisis. (In one case, a friend admitted that I had given them money, so I admitted that I'd given hundreds to different people over the past year.) Most of my friends on Facebook have been reassuring, but… One has declined to see me at all while I'm here, so I have no St. Louis friends to see anymore outside of the ones I'm visiting. (This should be normal, right?) I do need money, and tbh if I asked for it, I'd likely get enough to leave the state. It's not about principle, though…

He just dragged up that I was taught to never ask for money, ever. I ask for help, they offer money, I take that. If no one offers money, then I just get by with whatever people offer me. And so here I am in St. Louis with barely enough money to get to Little Rock, and trying to get back to Florida, and I can't ask anyone for help anymore. My last place where I felt open to talk about my problems was poisoned in my mind, now that Facebook is re-drama'd.

No one here seems to be inclined to help, but instead they seem to pity me. That's what it feels like. They pity me, that I have nothing and no one and they'd help if they could but they don't have anyone or anything to give me. Jessie sent me a few job leads for the area. I put in for a part time Sound Guy job at the Y, "For while I'm here with my parents." If I have that job at the Y, even part time, I can save to get out without much help from the Jessie & Mike. One week is enough for the train ticket(s) I need. Two weeks to break the trip up. Three weeks and I could take a sleeper car halfway.

My reasonable goals are still intact, and my plan is still here, but…I didn't realize that my hosts were looking forward to my departure at all. Last night while I was asleep, Jessie sent a text reminding me to be quiet in the morning, that they were sleeping in for a long day today. They didn't need any singing or affirmations. This is what my life is like, though…anyway, I've tried to keep it down. Dressed quietly for my walk. And…I set the alarm off.

I'm utterly embarassed. I spent the first fifteen minutes just utterly frozen in fear as Mike dashed around the house doing several alarm things. I had already turned it off - I knew the code - but I could tell he didn't want to be up but needed to check everything. He left the alarm off. The next fifteen minutes were in tears as I slowly undressed from my walk. It's windy. Snow blasting my face. I didn't want to go far, so I only walked to the driveway and back. I walked back in the door and the alarm went off…I didn't know I had to go hit the code right away, and the thing screeched us all awake. It's been an hour or so now. I want to eat, but I'm afraid of making too much noise. And I don't feel wanted here. And I feel like I'm trapped and unsafe. I am safe here. I know this! I could fall apart and I'm safe here. Except people will now be on me, every single day, to meet their expectations, and I don't believe that I can.

I'm trying to get a job and I even have an informal interview planned.

The point is, I can fuck up BAD here and still probably be OK. Alright?

[yearninqheart]

dinner for one (table for two)

he didn’t mean to be late again, he really didn’t. he’s just been forgetful lately. it wont happen again however, he promises you so.

pairing: corinthian x reader

word count: 1.4k

tags: gender-neutral!reader, implied reader is shorter than corinthian, fluff despite the title and summary lmao (though it does get a tad sad at the end).

notes: i don’t even remember how i got this idea all i know is that its bene sitting in my drafts for weeks and forgot about it until last night when i decided to finish it

The Corinthian was a creature known for many things. He is the Dream Lord’s masterpiece, a popular figure—dare he say, idol—amongst serial killers, a literal Nightmare, and also a boyfriend who was late to dinner. Again.

He had promised both himself and his partner that the first time would be the last but now it was nearing 10 p.m and he was still miles away from home. He’s barely even finished the meeting he’s in when he’s suddenly running to his car and stepping on the gas so hard he wondered if his car would blow at any second. 

Thankfully, it didn’t and at around 11:46 p.m, Corinthian was in your driveway with a messy bouquet of flowers in one hand and a nervous—almost fearful—expression on his face. He had to take a second to try and calm himself down before actually knocking but when silence was his only response, he couldn’t feign calmness any longer. 

There were two scenarios that filled his head at that very moment. The first, was that you were—understandably—angry and was refusing to even acknowledge him, and the second, was that something had happened to you and it was somehow his fault. Truthfully, he wished for neither but he knew to some degree, it would be one of the two. A part of him hoped it would be the first. 

Fishing out his keys, he quickly unlocked the door and rushed inside to search for you, barely thinking about the flowers in hand as he checked the house.

“Darling?” He had called out as he stepped into the kitchen, there were pots and pans left in the sink to soak along with a perfectly set table with a dinner for one. Guilt washed over him at the sight knowing that you had probably sat in the seat opposite of his waiting for him to come home before you decided to simply eat alone. He’ll make up for this. He has to. 

“Love?” 

The living room was empty, along with the bathrooms and closets. Even your shared bedroom was empty and that was when his worries heightened. 

Where were you? 

The flowers were forgotten on the floor somewhere by now as the Corinthian all but roamed the house you shared. He had checked everywhere! There weren’t any traces of you having been forced out of the house but there also seemed to be no indication that you were still here. Unless someone had found a way to teleport inside your home and take you, there was no way that you could’ve just disappeared. Surely you’ve got to be here somewhere, but where could you have—

“Cori?” 

For a second he was frozen at the sudden sound of your voice until he turned around. You were still on the opposite side of the door—he hadn’t even heard you open the door—with a plastic shopping bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Glancing past you in the doorway, the Corinthian realized it must’ve begun raining sometime after he got home. He hadn’t noticed.

“Sweetheart, look I’m so—” His apology was cut short as the door shut behind you and asked, 

“How are you home so early?” 

Early? 

“Earl-Early? It’s almost midnight!” 

Looking at you as if you had offended him, Corinthian saw the slightest hint of a smile on your lips before you said: “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Forgot? 

Forget what?!

He had just missed dinner yet here you stood as if he was the victim of a successful prank. You should’ve been angry. Should’ve been anything but grinning up at him after he missed– Oh. 

By now your smile was wide and almost bordering teasing as he pulled out his phone to confirm that he indeed did forget.

Today was Tuesday, and the Corinthian never came home until Wednesday due to his work. That was the routine the two of you had fallen into, meaning that he was never late for dinner in the first place and he had just rushed home with his heart in his throat for nothing. 

Relief and embarrassment hit him both at once and the result was a very confused Corinthian standing in the middle of the hallway with no idea of what to do or say. Instead, your laughter filled the empty space around you and he found himself admiring the way your eyes basically twinkled in the dimly lit hallway. He didn’t even notice when you had closed the space between you two—or was it him?—but all of sudden you were in-front of him and his hand cupped your face before fingers traced the side of your jaw up towards your temple before just barely grazing over your eyelids. 

“Should I be worried that you always do this?” You asked as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips barely brushing past the delicate skin that protected the peculiar organ he could never seem to get enough of. He simply chuckled before shaking his head ‘no’ and guiding your head to lean against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your middle. 

“Alright then,” You said as you pulled away from him. He reluctantly loosened his arms to let you go. “Since you’re home now, how about some dinner?” 

He followed you into the kitchen where he took the seat opposite of where the ready set meal was placed and watched as you stood opened the oven where leftovers of what you had cooked remained. 

As he sat there he wondered why you had left a meal out if it was only Tuesday. Dinner was typically served and eaten at 9 p.m and currently it was well past midnight and a meal was still waiting in the spot he usually filled. Either that meant you hadn’t had dinner yet or you were expecting other guests. The lack of decoration and tidiness of the room however led him to believe that the latter was not the case. 

“I had a strange feeling I’d have a guest tonight.” You said as you set down a plate of hot food in front of him. It was as if you had read his mind. 

“Gut feeling, I think that’s what it is. Didn’t think it’d be you who showed up though, I would’ve made something else. I know you don’t particularly like this as much.” And while in most cases he would’ve made his own dinner whenever your tastes didn’t seem to align with his own, tonight Corinthian smiled at you before saying, “Perhaps a second try will change my opinion.” 

Bringing a spoonful of food into his mouth, he tried to conceal his dislike for a particular ingredient that he didn’t favour all too much but it was such a strong part of the dish that he just couldn’t help it. Your cooking was wonderful and he’s enjoyed every single dish you’ve given him but he just couldn’t finish this one. 

He was thankful you understood and even found amusement as he struggled to mask his distaste for the dish before finally swallowing it and reaching for his glass of water.

“How about we get some pizza, and maybe catch up on that show you haven’t been able to watch yet?” You suggested and while he would’ve eventually finished the meal you worked so hard on, he really couldn’t resist the offer of being able to have you in his arms for the rest of the night. 

“I’ll give them a call.” He said as he got up and brought the plates towards the sink before going to place your order of pizza and drinks. Meanwhile, you headed towards the living room where blankets and pillows cushioned the couch as you set up the tv. 

The Corinthian would be a day or so behind schedule now due to a minor hiccup in his planning, possibly even pushing his original plans to a much later date but Corinthian didn’t seem to mind the inconvenience at all. 

With his limbs a tangled mess with your own as he listened to ramble about the scene playing on screen, he would postpone the rest of his plans if it meant he could live in this moment forever. 

Humanity would still have lots to offer him even decades later but a love like this would surely not make it long in his lifespan. You wouldn’t. And no matter how hard he may try to defy fate and Destiny himself, he knew that the inevitable would one day come and he would once again be lonely. But until the dreadful day comes, he would drop every meeting he had if it called for a night like this. And perhaps be more mindful of when he’s supposed to be home. 

[avintagekiss24]

one cup sugar, one cup spice | a. barber

→ pairing: andy barber x black!reader

→ word count: 7074

→ warnings: age gap, corruption kink, innocent reader, daddy kink, pain kink, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, hand job (male receiving)

→ author note: happy holidays my dudes! what i would do to have andy barber standing in my kitchen... anyway, reader is i n n o c e n t, but totally of age, and in college. as always, line breaks by @firefly-graphics​, gif by @evansensations​

There’s a light dust of white covering the green lawns and black asphalt of the street. You shiver as you follow your parents out towards their car, pulling your beanie down over your ears before you shove your hands into your navy blue Dartmouth hoodie.

“Honey,” your mom coos, turning back towards you as your dad loads the car, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? Your aunt has plenty of room.”

“I’m positive,” you laugh, “Aunt Sohpie and I don’t get along that great anyway.”

“Well, you could try a little harder.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes wide as you stare at her, “She called me a stuck up, yuppie bitch when I told her I wasn’t going to stop using deodorant.”

Your dad chuckles, prompting a swift slap to the shoulder from your mother before she turns back towards you, “Sophie is a free spirit. She doesn’t believe in putting chemicals in or on her body. One week of trying to get along won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, it’ll hurt,” you answer, pulling her into a hug, “Smelling her B.O. for a week would actually kill me.”

Your mother tuts, pulling back and slumping her shoulders a little as she squeezes your sides gently, “I don’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

“Oh, stop badgering the girl. She’ll be fine,” your dad cuts in, kissing your forehead when he approaches, “She had a tough semester, she’s allowed some alone time. Be good, baby. I left a credit card on my desk for any emergencies.”

You smile warmly, “Thanks daddy.”

There’s a sound of a door opening, then closing, heavy footsteps against the old wood of the porch next door, “Oh, Andy,” your mom calls towards the neighbor, “You got a minute?”

Your face scrunches as you glance over at your father, who sighs heavy, “Don’t get mad, baby.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“She kinda, you know,” he shrugs, knocking his head back and forth, “Asked the neighbor to look in on you while we’re gone,” when your face drops, he throws up his hands, “I didn’t do it, she did.”

“Mom!” You hiss, flipping your eyes to the tall, dark haired man cutting across his front lawn, “I don’t need a babysitter! I’m twenty years old!”

“Hush,” she whispers, plastering a smile on her face as she wraps her arm around your waist, “Sorry to bother you, Andy.”

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s okay, I was just checking the mail.”

You’re angry and embarrassed as the tall, older man approaches, but a sudden heat blooms across your chilled brown skin. Pushing your glasses up your nose, you take a heavy breath, expelling it hard as you eye him. You’ve only really seen him in passing, throwing your hand up in a friendly wave as you jogged into your childhood home during a long weekend away from school. You only vaguely remember him moving in about a year or two before. Hell, you don’t even think the two of you have uttered anything more than just a neighborly ‘hey’, and now, thanks to your mother, he’s going to be keeping an eye on you.

Just wonderful.

She smiles proudly, “You remember our daughter, right?”

“I do,” he smiles slowly, an intense pair of blue-green eyes bouncing between yours, “We’ve run into each other a few times over the years. How you doin’ kiddo?”

He reaches out, extending a large palm and long fingers. You take it gently, smiling soft as you drop your eyes from his, nerves suddenly pooling in your stomach, “Um, good. Thanks for asking. How um,” you swallow, glancing back up at him, finding his eyes still centered on you, “How are you?”

He shrugs, but keeps your much smaller hand in his, “Can’t complain.”

“Listen, honey,” your mom starts, “I asked Mr. Barber to pop over and check on you every now and again while we’re gone.”

“Mother,” fake laughter filling the air, your face hot from being annoyed to all hell, “I’m not a child, and I’m sure Mr. Barber has better things to do with his time than to check on me constantly.”

“It’s no problem,” he shrugs again, those eyes of his now roaming, down your body, then up again, slowly, “I have the next couple of weeks off myself.”

“Congrats on the promotion, by the way.” Your father smiles, finally drawing Andy’s attention away from you. He nudges your side with his elbow, “Andy’s the new District Attorney.”

You keep your eyes on the tall Andy, sliding them the length of his body. He’s sturdy. Broad shoulders not so hidden underneath his zip up hoodie, clinging to thick biceps. Dark jeans accentuate long legs and a little waist. A perfect, full beard lines his strong jaw and chin. Two enormous hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants, so large that they don’t even fit right… You inhale deep, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, sinking your teeth into the flesh as a tiny moan slips through.

Blue eyes snap to you again as it sounds. God. Your lips part, eyes widen as they stare back at him in embarrassment. He just smiles again, slow and seemingly knowing; his eyes falling down your frame again.

“We better go if we’re gonna miss traffic, hun.” Your dad’s voice suddenly breaks into your conscience, snapping you out of the small trance that Andy Barber has leveled over you, “Andy, thanks for watching over our baby while we’re gone.”

Andy winks at you, “I won’t hover, I promise. If you need anything, at any time, I’m right next door, okay? Better yet, let me give you my number.”

You nod quick, clearing your throat as you fumble around with your phone, pulling it out of your hoodie and handing it over to him, “Sure, yeah. Th-thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“Andy,” he corrects, reaching out and cupping your elbow gently, “Please.”

Another warmth spreads through you, emanating from the contact, making you giggle and smile nervously like a stupid girl before you get a hold of yourself and blink away. You all exchange another round of pleasantries, Andy wishing your parents a safe trip before he locks eyes with you again— biting his lip as he blinks and hands your phone back before turning away and heading towards his mailbox.

Almost frozen in place, you blink as you watch him move across his grass, forcefully swallowing. You really need to get out more.

One last hug from your mom and dad and you wave as they pull out of the driveway, your mom waving excitedly at you through the windshield. Rolling your eyes, but smiling wide, you return a wave before heading back inside, locking the door behind you before making a brisk b-line to the front door.

Andy’s still outside, pushing the green trash cans up against his garage as you peek out at him from behind the thin, white, door curtains. He throws open one of the lids before dipping his head, eyeing the mail in his hand as he flips through it slowly, tossing the junk into the open can. A pink blush piques on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, lips red with the chill. He looks up suddenly— out of nowhere— and cocks his head, letting another smile curl onto his lips when the two of you make eye contact again.

You gasp and jump back, instantly turning on your heel to run up the stairs towards your bedroom, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The smell of fresh baked cookies fills the house as you pull a pan from the oven. You hum in satisfaction, a small smile on your face as you scoop the sugar cookies onto the cooling rack before pulling your mom’s Santa Claus mittens off your hands and tossing them to the counter. Last Christmas by Wham plays from the small bluetooth speaker in the corner of the kitchen, A Charlie Brown Christmas on mute playing from the ipad leaning against the utensil holder.

There’s a random crackling from the fire you started in the living room as you move around, a whir from the mixer as it beats the eggs, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and corn syrup together. You dip your finger into the mixture, popping it into your mouth and groaning as the sweetness explodes on your tongue before you pull the beaters out, slipping your finger down the stainless steel to collect the icing still stuck to them.

A knock sounds from the front door, permeating through the rather quiet house. You lean to the side, blinking at the door as a shadow shifts through the windows on either side. Shoving the icing laden finger into your mouth, you jog towards the door, bare feet heavy against the wood floor.

“One second, one second,” you mumble, wiping your hands on your pale pink cotton shorts before you tug at your hoodie and unlock the door. A sharp inhale of cold air fills your chest when you pull open the door to find one Andy fucking Barber standing on the opposite side, “Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Hey,” he smiles, “It’s been a few days, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Being a biomedical engineering student, you can rattle off some of the most difficult, obscure words known to man with exactly zero problems. When it comes to social interaction with the hot, forty-something, lawyer next door? Your tongue is heavy, your brain… dumb.

His smile widens as you blink like a moron, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he waits for you to talk. Here’s the part where you speak, dumbass! “Um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I, uh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m good, sorry.”

“Smells good in here.”

Nodding, you bite your lip, your eyes everywhere but on his face— his stare just too much, “I’m making cookies.” you glance over your shoulder before you point, “Do you want to make some? I mean,” you slam your eyes closed, “Do you want to try some? Not, some, one, do you— do you want to try one? Or some… I guess… whatever.”

Idiot. You’re a bumbling, stumbling, idiot.

He chuckles, the rumble low and deep as he runs one of those big ass hands through his dark, soft looking hair, “That is the best offer I’ve had all day.”

He steps over the threshold, his fingers brushing over yours as he reaches to close the door. You snatch your hand from it quickly, wringing it within the other as you turn awkwardly and move towards the kitchen, swallowing hard, suddenly hyper aware of how bare your legs are.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Andy starts from behind you, “I’m surprised to find you here and not out with some friends.”

You move behind the marble topped island in the center of the kitchen as Andy walks around the opposite side. His eyes are on you again, staring as you fumble with the spatula, your fingers going as dumb as your brain, dropping it with a loud clang. You don’t even know why— okay, you know why, but this is something deeper, something you haven’t experienced before.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No, I uh, I just kinda like to stay around the house.”

He nods slowly, “A homebody, huh? Me too.”

He makes you dizzy; his masculinity is intimidating. It fills up every little space in the room. His intelligence— worldly, experienced—  oozes from him. He looks like you could ask him anything, anything, and he’d have the right answer for you. He could teach you a thing or two, that’s for sure.

A shudder creeps through your body, heat blooming across your skin, having to shift on your feet as your stomach flutters while you focus on icing this stupid cookie. The physical space he takes up unnerves you too. That wide, towering frame looming over you. Deft, thick fingers tapping gently against the countertop as you stumble around, your hands shaky.

There’s a stickiness. A warm, little wet spot in the center of your panties as stupid thoughts run through your stupid brain. You’re being ridiculous. Like this grown man would be interested in an inexperienced, socially awkward, in bed by eight thirty, little girl. Get a grip.

You slather some icing over the warm cookie and cautiously hand it towards him, clearing your throat and forcing a smile. Wringing your hands again, you find a little courage to lift your eyes just as he pops the small cookie into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chews slowly, a grunt sounding from deep in his throat.

Every muscle in your body clenches at the sound. It’s gorgeous— and if there’s anything your body appreciates, it’s a gorgeous man with a gorgeous grunt.

“It’s okay?” You squeak, timid and small before you nervously clear your throat.

“Shit, girl,” he moans again, licking his lips as he extends his hand again, “I could eat every single one of these.”

Nervous fingers clutch another cookie, adding a dollop of icing before you hand it over to him, eyes drifting up his chest and to his face as he devours the second treat. Your curious eyes watch with a longing. Pretty, thick, dark eyelashes closing again, splashing across smooth, slightly reddened cheeks. A pink tongue darts out of a wet mouth to slip along an inviting— too inviting— bottom lip, and you zero in on it. Chest rising and falling a little harder as you blink, in your own little world as you imagine just how much experience those lips, that tongue has.

There’s a hint of blue suddenly, his eyes no longer closed, now set squarely on you as those sickenly perfect white teeth emerge with another sly smile.

Another wave of embarrassment pushes through your veins, but you can’t look away from him this time. Locked in a heated stare, mind racing, palms sweaty as you watch Andy dip his index finger into the bowl of icing, scooping the sugary mix onto the pad of his digit.

“You like watching me, huh?”

Your mouth parts to answer, but nothing comes out, mouth and throat suddenly dry. He laughs at you, standing there, dumb and nervous, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pushes the tip of his finger into his mouth, sucking the icing from it slowly.

He’s moving, that much your brain can comprehend. Moving around the island, sliding the bowl of icing right to the edge where he dips his finger again, curling it to collect another glob.

Shallow, shaky breaths escape the small part in your lips, your chest and stomach so tight you’re surprised you can breathe at all. As it is, you have to rest your palm against the marble island, just to keep from falling over.

A long arm slips around your waist, nudging you forward— closer— so close that when one of those shallow, little breaths pushes out, your chest, well, your tits, brush against his. You picked a fine day to go without a bra. He drops his free hand to your waist, pushing it underneath your oversized hoodie to feel your skin as he wraps those long fingers around your hip, giving it a squeeze before he cups your chin.

“You have a boyfriend back at that fancy ass school?” He asks, eyes hooded as he tilts your head upward.

A hum vibrates through your chest before there’s a quick shake of your head as he pushes the icing over your bottom lip, smearing the sugary mix along it. He keeps your chin anchored in his hand as he stares down at you through slits, his own mouth dropping open as he coaxes yours.

“No, a smart girl like you doesn’t have time for boys, does she?” He purrs, “You probably haven’t even been touched by a boy.”

A squeak chokes in your throat as he teases you, pushing that finger back and forth, the tip pushing ever so gently into your mouth. He chuckles again, real low, menacing almost as he knows he has you right where he wants you.

“Ya know,” he starts, thumbs stroking your chin and jaw, “This Christmas cookie frosting would taste a hundred times better on you than my finger.” He smiles again, tilting his head, “Can I see?”

You mewl, pitiful and small as emotion pools in your eyes. You’re overwhelmed— nervous and unsure, wanting to be perfect. Womanly— but surely falling flat.

“Oh, baby,” he laughs, sweeping his thumbs underneath your eyes to catch the hot streaks, “Awww, it’s okay.”

Andy pushes in close, his lips brushing yours as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of yours, a low sound thrumming in his throat. He presses his cheek against your face, the soft hair of his beard pushing along your skin, goosebumps popping up all over. Your bodies start to sway in a slow rhythm, side to side, his warm breath washing over you as he smiles.

He pulls away, eyes traveling your face, “You haven’t even been kissed before?” When you don’t answer, he closes his eyes, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “No? Oh, my sweet girl. That is just,” he groans, eyes twinkling with an emotion you don’t even understand, “You are so perfect— so good.”

His forehead comes to rest on yours, his hands still corralling your face, fingers sticky. His tongue darts out quick, licking at your lips, dragging up to the tip of your nose. You shudder, bleating as the rough velvet passes over your mouth.

Andy moans again, sucking the icing into his mouth and swallows slow, “Yum.”

You’re jittery— clammy, as labored breaths push out of your mouth, a murky fog clouding your brain. Shaky whirs tremble through your chest as you shift on your feet, your panties sticking to your now throbbing pussy. Andy closes the distance between your mouths again, his eyes hooded as he nips at you.

Your eyes flutter, closing instinctively— waiting for the claim. It doesn’t come, not right away, making your eyes pop open, a childish whine squeaking out. You even stomp your foot a little. Twenty years is a long enough wait.

“Kiss me,” you breathe, not wasting a second, “Please, Andy—”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he grabs your lips, inhaling deep. His tongue fucks into your mouth, slipping along the roof before massaging yours, sucking lightly. You go limp against him, trying to keep up with the fervent kiss, but soon just let him take full control.

Andy pushes his hips into yours, pressing his hard cock against you, forcing you to break the kiss, gasping deep. He rests his forehead on yours again, tittering as he bites his bottom lip, “Never felt that before, huh? Mmmm,” he groans again, “I bet you feel good. So tight and warm— umph, I’m probably not even going to be able to fit my cock all in.”

You shudder at the thought.

He brushes the tip of his nose against yours, “I gotta open you up a bit, don’t I? Hmm? This sweet little cunt needs to get used to being stuffed full.” He turns you in his hands, presses his burly chest into your back, his lips to your ear, “I want you to finish icing these cookies like a good girl, okay? You do as daddy says.”

You don’t move, you can’t really, as you try to comprehend what’s going on. It takes Andy pushing his crotch into your ass, grinding your hips against the island and literally grabbing your wrists, making your hands grab the butter knife and a cookie before your brain catches up. With shaky fingers, you push the knife through the icing and slather it on one of the small, round, golden brown cookies.

“Good girl,” he praises, pecking your cheek, nuzzling into the side of your face, “Daddy wants you to focus.”

He drags his warm palms up your forearms, stroking gently before they fall to your sides. They push up into your hoodie, fingertips glancing across sensitive, untouched skin. Small laughter vibrates through his chest as you jump and gasp, huffing and keening as he explores.

Little kisses are pressed to your temple and side of your face as his hands venture up your sides, curling around your rib cage until he’s grasping your bare tits in both hands, squeezing and kneading— hissing as he grinds his rigidly hard cock into your ass.

You freeze, body going stiff as nimble fingers play with your thick, piqued nipples. Warm lips nip at your neck as you push back into his hips, wiggling slowly, the thin cotton of your shorts not proving to be much of a barrier at all.

Andy reaches around, plucking the cookie out of your hand and pops it into his mouth just as his free hand skips down your stomach— right into your shorts. You jut your hips forward as his fingers plunge through your folds, massaging your clit slowly as he murmurs in your ear.

“That’s what I love about virgins. The slightest little touch gets you all worked up.” He pulls his hand from your shorts, holding it out for you to see your slick coating his fingers— a string connecting from his index finger to the middle. He brings his wet fingers to your lips, steel eyes peering at you as he waits, “Clean ‘em up.”

He slides his free hand back into your sweatshirt, pushing it up over your tits before he tweaks your left nipple, rolling it slow as he pushes the tips of his fingers into your mouth. Sweet, tiny little whines sound from you as you accept his long fingers into your mouth, starting to suck gently, the taste of your arousal exploding on your tongue.

“That’s right, just like that baby.” He reassures, slipping a hand back into your panties.

Your mouth goes slack around his fingers as he toys with you, rubbing your achy clit as your hips start to move with his rhythm. Resting your weight against his sturdy body, you moan loud, pushing out hard breaths, eyes slipping closed, head rolling on his shoulder as his wet fingers slip from your mouth back to your left nipple.

His fingers start to tease your slit, pushing gently, slowly, until… a sharp yelp fills the kitchen as two fingers stuff you full. Andy wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him, cooing in your ear as he continues to push in, “You’re okay baby. I know, I know sweet girl, we’re almost there. Just a bit more.”

Tears sting your eyes as your face strains from the pressure and pain of being spread for the first time. Once his fingers have disappeared, the heel of his palm pressing against your folds and clit, he pulls your chin towards him and licks at your mouth, sucking air in between his teeth.

“I can’t wait to fuck this sweet pussy,” he kisses you quick and hard, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before he releases you with a loud smack, “I love a virgin cunt. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

You squeak when his fingers start to move, slow, deep, a squelch sounding as his fingers push into your muscles. It hurts, but there’s a twinge of good, something inside of you being pleasured once you push past the pain. The sweet taste of pleasure doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks as his fingers pick up a brisk pace.

Andy growls in your ear, the sound scratching at the back of his throat, kind of hollow and breathy as he grinds his cock into your ass, “You havent fucked yourself like this before? I didn’t think I’d hurt you this bad with just my fingers, baby.”

A hot, rough wetness slides along your cheek, his tongue, lapping at you. You grab onto his forearm, feeling his muscles tense and flex as he fingers your innocence, digging your nails into the thick Shetland wool sweater covering his torso. He pushes deep, suddenly, making you cry out again.

He grunts, snaking his hand up into your hoodie to take a firm hold of your tit. Resting his forehead to the back of your head, he quickens his fingers, his hot breath on the back of your neck, quick swipes of his tongue and lips against your hypersensitive skin— making the miniscule hairs on your body stand on end.

His palm presses against your clit with each shove of his fingers. Strapping, hard chest flattened to your back, loud, husky moans in your ear. His hips roll and push, writhe into yours as his fingers start to thrash. Teeth sink into your shoulder, his tongue sliding and sweeping.

“Andy—” you cry, whimpering like a child, “It hurts. I— I can’t,”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His fingers slow and then stop, pulling out of you to rub your clit, soothing the balmy flesh. He turns you around in his arms as you cry, lifting you right from your feet, “I’m sorry. Shh, shh, I’m sorry, baby.”

The instant warmth of his mammoth chest and arms soothe the tumultuous pangs of anxiety coursing through you. Nuzzling in, the softness of his beard helps ease your nerves as you wrap two jelly arms around his neck. Andy’s big hands push up and down your back as he murmurs sweet nothings. Stomach tight, heart fluttering, face hot and wet with tears— you’re properly overwhelmed and overstimulated, and Andy could just eat it all up.

“You are so pretty when you cry, you know that? You did so good, baby. You took my fingers so well.”

You huff, disappointed, pushing your face deeper into his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispers, “It’s okay to not be ready.” He sits you back on your feet, pulling and adjusting your sweatshirt back over your chest. He pecks your lips quick before cupping your face in his hands, “It’s gonna make our first time together so much better.”

He pushes in to kiss you again, but stops, just as his lips brush yours. You get up on your tiptoes, wanting to meet his mouth but he’s quick, pulling away and stealing another cookie as he takes a step back.

“Thanks for the cookies, sweetheart.”

And just like that, with a wink and a smile, he’s moving out of the kitchen, the front door slamming behind him.

It might as well be the middle of a Texas summer heatwave in your bedroom. Exasperated, you throw the covers away from your body, skin slick with sweat as you wipe at your forehead. You’ve been like this all day— hot and irritated, stomach and mind jumbled, unable to focus on much of anything but thoughts of depravity. Pissed off at yourself more than anything; that you couldn’t take it all.

You sit up in the dark room, a sliver of moonlight spilling in from behind the thin curtains over your window. Snow flakes float down from the sky, glimmering, basking in the soft, natural light of the moon. Thoughts of Andy return. Reddened, full lips on your face, his soft, velvety, pink tongue forging its own path in the uncharted territory that is your mouth. His hands, big and warm, pinching and grabbing, pushing in deep.

Every muscle in your body clenches; achy cunt squeezing around nothing.

A soft light illuminates from the nightstand, followed by a buzz, a random alert from your twitter. But then, oh but then— Andy’s words come floating back to you. Better yet, let me give you my number. The sleek iphone is in your hand within seconds, fingers sliding over the keyboard, shooting off a text.

You 1:15am

You up?

Andy B. 1:17am

What’s a smart girl like you doing up so late on Christmas Eve?

An influx of air fills your lungs as your heart leaps.

You 1:17am

I can’t sleep…

Andy B. 1:18am

Want me to help with that?

You won’t be getting much sleep tho…

You 1:18am

That’s what I’m hoping…

Andy B. 1:19am

LOL, okay smarty pants, come wait for Santa with me, front door’s open

You’re already halfway down the stairs by the time his invite slides across the screen. You shove your feet into your Ugg boots at the bottom of the staircase and grab your jacket from the coat rack, pushing into it as you throw open the front door. Crossing your arms over your chest, you jog down the steps of the porch and start for Andy’s, an instant chill rattling right down to your bones.

Footprints in the snow follow you as you cross the lawn, a light crunch sounding underneath your feet, adding to the whoosh of a breeze that rips through the sleepy street. Once you’re on Andy’s porch, you reach for the door, pushing through the threshold and closing it softly with a click.

The house is dark, and quiet, a tiny point of light coming from the kitchen and the random ticks of a clock somewhere deep. Your jacket hits the floor, ugg boots thump against the wall as you kick them off, hand slides along the banister as you climb the stairs slow. Wide eyes adjust to the dark as you pad slowly down the long hall, passing by one closed door, and then another until you reach one that’s slightly ajar. Light spills out of it, splashing over your bare toes as you step right up to it, fingertips pushing against the door.

You find Andy propped up against his headboard, chest bare, legs spread— hard, pink cock sticking out of his boxers, gripped tight in his hand. He flips his eyes to yours as he strokes himself slow, pushing his hips into it, groaning at the sight of you.

The air in your body— the room— is sucked right out as you lock eyes. With a blink, your greedy eyes are on the move, down his hair smattered chest and chiseled stomach, over the dark blue boxer briefs, down his meaty thighs and toned calves, right to his curled toes and back up again.

You have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

“I’ve been,” the words out of his mouth come to a halt being replaced by a low grunt as he squeezes his cock, precum dribbling out of his slit, “Shit sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Haven’t been able to cum since you left me all worked up.”

You bleat softly, blinking wild and nervous as you watch his hand slide up and down, palm and fingers sweeping over his mushroom head to collect the droplets of his arousal to push it down his shaft.

“Well, come on. Come touch me.”

It’s a good thing your feet aren’t as stupid as your brain, or else you’d still be standing in place. Before you can get your mind to catch up, you're pulling yourself towards the edge of the bed, falling forward, catching yourself with your hands. Crawling between his legs, your tank top hangs low, Andy’s eyes peering down your cleavage before you sit on your knees— hands trembling.

He reaches for you, grabbing your wrist gently, pulling your hand towards his towering cock. Guiding you slow, he wraps your hand around him, his hips jerking soft at the warmth of your palm and pushes your hand down to his base, before dragging it up to the tip. He helps you for a few more strokes, twisting your hand around him, guiding your fingers up over his cock head and then back down, squeezing your hand to apply a gentle pressure.

“That’s right, baby—ah—” he hisses, jutting his hips up into your hand, “Shit.”

You continue to pump him after his hand falls away, relishing in the small noises that sound from him— sending your heart soaring. His hips pulse into your hand, eyes fluttering as more cum bubbles out, slipping and sliding over your fingers. Andy reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it out, covering the room in darkness except for the moon.

He’s beautiful like this. Chest tight and shuddering with each breath, dark eyelashes splayed over fair skin, a chorus of sweet, small little whines and praise pouring from him. A soft pink blush unfurling over his broad chest, creeping up his neck.

“Fuck baby,” breathless and strained, “You’re a fuckin’ pro already. My smart little girl.” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth but still can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners, “Oh, you like that?” Andy smiles lazily, “You like being my smart little girl?”

Hot lips are on yours before you can even form your mouth to answer. Flipped onto your back, strong hips digging into yours, his cock pushing against your covered clit and slit as he kisses you hard. It takes your breath away.

You’d always thought you’d be awkward, stiff and unknowing, once you finally reached this moment— nothing but teeth and elbows and knees in all the wrong places— but, there’s a natural instinct coming into play. You’re lost, but somehow intricately aware. Fingers creep up his biceps and curl around his shoulder blades, digging in as your hips push back into his. Mouth leans into the feverish kisses, tongue sliding with his.

Colossal hands push into your shorts, pushing them down before his feet knock them off the rest of the way. Your top is rucked up, up over your breasts, exposing more brown skin, two soft, jiggling mounds, two piqued nipples soon sucked into a warm, wet mouth. A long middle finger toys with your clit, rubbing circles before more fingers join, slipping through slick and skin as they play.

“Tell me,” hot, whispered words sting in your ear, “Tell me you like being my smart girl.”

Hips dig into yours once more, hard cock pushing against your sensitive nub, then pressing at your opening. You grab the back of his neck, moaning hard and loud as electricity bounces through your veins, “Andy—” you squeak, “I like—”

A sharp cry breaks through the words as Andy pushes hard, spearing you for the very first time. Pressure and pain courses through you, body going tight and stiff as he sinks deeper and deeper, large palms on your cheeks, forehead to yours, warm breaths and ragged, choked grunts washing over your face.

Hard kisses— one, two, three— on your lips as he holds your face, his eyes closed, mouth hanging as he sinks, sinks, sinks until you’ve taken him all. Your head is empty. Devoid of any real, coherent thoughts, unable to focus on any one thing; well, nothing other than the fullness.

“Tell me you like being my smart girl.” Andy rasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to keep himself together. He shifts, hips pulling away from yours, cock dragging out, “Come on baby, tell me you like it.”

Andy pushes his hips, pushes back into you, but real gentle and smooth, knowing you’re teetering— overwhelmed in more ways than one, a feeling that can turn south on a dime. So, he keeps his hands on your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles. He opens his eyes, giving you something to focus on as he moves gently— so, so gently. Keeping you present.

“Use those words, sweet girl. Talk to me.”

Water fills your eyes as you grip, nails biting into the meat of his sides as he fucks you slow and sweet. Heat burns through you, tiny sounds, choked sobs scratch at the back of your throat, but it’s good— feels so good. Your legs push up and around his waist, hands start to snake up his sinewy back, feeling the muscles flex and tighten as he makes you a woman— makes you his.

Safe. Warm. Cocooned between his heavy body and the light mattress. Hips rolling, pushing and pulling. Hot breath over hot skin. Quick, jumbled words, thick and ripe with a heady lust. You like being his smart girl. Gripping fingers, around your face, your wrists, your tits, hips, thighs, ankles— everywhere you could possibly imagine.

Andy flips you over suddenly, his back now pressed into the mattress as you lay on top of him. He positions you right where he wants you— sitting you up straight, positioning your hands against his brawny chest. He encases your waist with those massive hands, squeezing tight before the pads of his fingers drag along your thighs as you wiggle, getting used to the new position.

“Push up— that’s right, sweetheart,” he sighs softly as you follow his direction, “Now sit back down— slowly, baby, go slow.” His head falls back on the pillows as he exhales, a groan trembling through his chest, “God, yeah babe. Good girl. Up and down, up and down.”

Your fingers push through the tuft of soft, dark hair covering his chest as you ride him, lifting and sitting, rolling and bucking as you get a hang of it— catch a feel— your clit rubbing against his taut skin. You feel Andy trying to keep his composure, feel him trying to restrain himself, his hips. Watch his eyes flutter and close as his mouth goes slack again as he pushes up into you, meeting your increasingly greedy thrusts downward.

“I’m your smart girl,” you whisper, heart beating hard and fast in your chest as your confidence grows, “I’ve always wanted to be your smart girl.”

He jams up into you, much harder than anything you’ve felt so far.

A sharp yelp cracks into the silence and he grabs your wrists, runs his hands up your arms, before he cups your face, “Shhh, shhh, shhh, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know it was gonna sound so sweet,” he laughs, “God, I fucking love hearing you say that.”

He drops a hand back to your chest, grabbing a handful of your tit, toying with your nipple, pinching and pulling. His other hand wraps around your hip again, helping to pull you forward, as he thrusts soft. You don’t move; you just let him fuck up into you, grab his hands and thread your fingers with his as you bounce.

Thrusts get faster; hips hurried, jabbing. Wet rasps fill the room, octaves soaring. You fall forward a little, unclasping his hands to catch yourself against his chest. Andy’s hands are back around your waist and hips as you fuck down onto him, chasing that little, dull ache in the pit of your stomach that grows with each push of his hips.

Andy has two full handfuls of your ass, growling loud, hips faltering— losing control as he forces you down on him. You take each hard thrust, tears spilling down your cheeks, pleasure and pain all wrapped up into one. Sweat and heat crawls along your skin, stomach goes tight, throat dries. You dig your fingers into his chest as your toes curl, whimpering and crying out, choking as the pressure builds.

You tighten— freeze quick, gasp hard as a white hot orgasm floods your veins, like a molten lava, oozing, spreading. Flattening yourself to Andy’s chest, you let him wrap his arms around your back and hold you tight as he fucks you through it. The meat of his thighs slapping against yours, your cunt sounding wet and filthy, squelching and convulsing as you come.

There’s another heat, quick and dense, filling you as Andy’s grunts grow deeper. His grip on your ass tightens as he spurts— your used cunt coaxing long, hot ribbons of white silk from his sensitive, red cock head. He falls out of you, dick wet and hard, pushing through your ass cheeks as his hips still churn out of habit and inherent instinct.

Hands are on your head, fingers wiping at your face and forehead, pushing hair away. You’re embarrassed— not sure why— and nuzzle into his neck, hiding your face as you tuck your hands into your chest protectively. Another laugh sounds from him, vibrates through you, as he kisses your forehead and rubs his bearded cheek against your face.

“You’re a sweet girl,” honeyed, his voice, smooth and sweet, slow drags of his hands up and down your back lulling you, calming you, suddenly nervous, “My sweet, smart little baby. You okay?” you nod, but it isn’t good enough, “Tell me.”

“I’m okay.” You sniffle, eyelashes clumped, cheeks wet, lips swollen and red.

You nuzzle into him more, taking a deep breath as you listen to his heartbeat. Another silence fills the room, Andy’s breaths soon turn deep, slow and rhythmic, his hands and fingers coming to a slow stop but still splayed out over your back. A quick press of your lips against his neck makes him shift, but doesn’t wake him. You press another on his chin before you settle down into him once more, watching as snow starts to fall again.

There’s a Christmas present sitting at the edge of the bed when you wake the next morning, your name scrawled out on the name tag. You tear into it, pulling out a small white box, the name LELO embossed over the top. Eyebrows firmly furrowed, you turn it over in your hand, mouth falling open as you read the description and eye the two twenty karat gold Ben Wa beads.

Andy appears in the doorway, a steaming cup in his hand, a smile on his face, “Merry Christmas. Santa came for you, huh?”

“Merry Christmas,” you glance away, “I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay,” he shrugs, “I was a bit presumptuous after our little rendezvous in the kitchen— ordered those from Amazon yesterday.” He pads towards you, leaning down to kiss you quick before he hands you the hot mug, “Are you okay?”

A nervous giggle escapes through your lips, your head falling as you cover your mouth with your hand, “Mmhmm.”

Andy tips your head back upwards, pushing his index finger underneath your chin, smiling again before he kisses you all sweet and soft and slow, making you go all stupid and gooey again.

“What are these for?” You ask after he pulls away a few moments later.

His eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he winks, “Training. Now, lay back and spread your legs for daddy, little one.”

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

-

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

-

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

-

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

-

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

-

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

-

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

-

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

[msmarvelwrites]

For Old Times' Sake

Summary: “Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue,”

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Explicit sexual content, Vaginal penetration, fingering, Choking, Bucky with the filthy words, mutual pining.

Word Count: 2.8K

Authors Note: WOW! It has literally been a hot minute hasn't it? I cant say that I’m not a little excited about this 3rd lock-down in Ontario because it means I can actually find time to write. I’m sorry it’s been so long, babes. Anyways, enjoy! (I’m actually the worst and it’s been so long since I’ve done this!) The Biggest Thank You to @sweeterthanthis for literally cheering me on the entire time. This was such garbage before you came along 😂 I had so much fun with this one babe 💕 thank you for all you do ✨

The wind whipped against your face, bruising your skin with it’s callousness. Though the unwelcomed lash was nothing compared to what was to come. Or who, for that matter. 

It had been longer than you cared to admit. The dodged calls hanging at the bottom of the icon on your phone serving as a cruel reminder of how cold you had been. Of course, it was never in your job description to take care of Bucky after Steve left— but there was an implication that made you run for the hills. 

You couldn't do anything for him - give him anything. The last five years had consisted of running and trying to start over. 

Besides, after the Accords, in the government's eyes you were just as fucked as Hydra. An ally turned fugitive the moment you’d chosen your side in that airport. You’d fight with yourself most nights that you decided with your head, but your first evening with a man who had bruised your lips with promises of what would come may have had more pull than anything else. 

The same man that had called you every week for the past six months… The same man you had spent countless nights with, years of your life you would never be able to scrub away, no matter how hard you tried. 

You had watched from afar as half of the world returned, their loved ones welcoming them home with teary eyes and broken hearts. You watched as he came home. His eyes, always scanning the crowds waiting for you. Waiting to see your face. 

It made all of this so, so much worse. This was definitely not the homecoming you could have hoped for. 

“We’re nearing the drop.” Your comm’s rang with a woman's voice who had helped smuggle you onto the craft. You weren’t exactly welcome in europe at the moment- or anywhere for that matter. The government did not take lightly to your’s and Sharon’s betrayal. You’d think that after everything the world had seen they would be a little more forgiving, but you couldn't exactly blame them for their trust issues either. 

You could, however, blame yourself. 

As soon as your feet hit the ground you were off. The distress call had come from Sam earlier that evening and now with the sun setting you could only hope you weren't too late. You tried to push the man who had haunted your thoughts for the past few years out of your head, desperate to focus on the task at hand. 

Bullets exploded through the air, a warning as you were approaching the large shipping container unit. Your comms went static as they began to connect with Sam’s, his voice ringing through your ears as—

“Sam, a little help here!” 

His voice stopped you dead in your tracks. 

“I’m on my way - called in some back up.” Sam grunted as the sound of strangled yelps echoed around you. 

“Back up? Who do we know that-” Bucky’s words were cut short as he let out a growl, the sound of his vibranium arm whirling in the background. 

You rushed in without a second thought, the sound of his pain too raw as it ripped through your chest. Before you could assess the danger, you charged forward, hurling yourself at a large man pointing his gun right at- 

With a loud thud, the man hit the ground. Your combat boot, heavy on his throat until he went still, and with it came silence. It was deafening despite the explosive gunfire around you. 

“Y/n?” 

Your name ripped through the air, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Back turned and body rigid, you were frozen in place. Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue, soft and get so personal. Like no one had spoken it before. 

“Y/n, what are you-”

Sam's voice cut the newly cropped brunettes words off,  “I got two coming in on your left, Buck. Oh- and welcome back, Y/L/N.” 

You smiled sheepishly at Bucky, pulling your gun from its holster and flicking the safety off as you closed your distance with him. Despite the aggravation apparent on his face, a broken smile seemed to be pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Here we go again, huh?”  You chimed, your eyes locking with his just as all hell broke loose. 

The trip back to Sam and Bucky’s base was one filled with uncomfortable silence, and a tension that had your blood running cold. 

Once the adrenaline of the fight had worn off and you were left face to face with Bucky Barnes, the guilt began to creep in. 

“So…” Sam started from the backseat of the beat-up truck, the suddenness of his words startling both you and Bucky for a moment. “Long time no see.” 

The scoff that left Bucky’s lips wasn't as subtle as you imagined he meant it to be. You tried not to let it bother you; in fact, you had prepared for this. How he might react when you finally returned home. What you weren't prepared for, however, was how indescribably gutted you would feel to watch him - eyes trained to the road ahead - as he gritted his teeth at your proximity. 

To say that yours and Bucky’s relationship before the snap was easy would be incredibly delusional. It was messy and at it’s best dysfunctional. But for whatever reason, the two of you looked beyond that. He saw through you like no one ever had and before you knew it, the two of you were glued at the hip. It didn't make sense, but no questions were ever asked. 

You just fit. 

And of course there was the sex. Good god, you could feel your thighs clenching at the thought. 

The way’s Bucky knew how to take you apart, with an accuracy that only he had. How he had your toes curling and body vibrating from the flick of his tongue. How he would have you screaming the most filthy things for him, all while begging to never ever—

“Y/n?” 

Sam’s voice was like an ice bath. Your name yanking you back into the present and the question at hand. What was the question again? You couldn't think straight. Not when Bucky was staring at you the way he was, one brow cocked and that same familiar smirk plastered on his lips. If you didn't know any better, you’d think he could read your thoughts. 

“Sorry- I… I was…” You couldn't seem to bring yourself back to this realm, too lost in the Super Soldier’s stormy eyes to remember what exactly you were trying to say. 

“He asked you where you’ve been, Y/n.” Bucky spoke your name like it was a curse, laced with razor sharp ache and pain. His eyes told a different story though. The way he looked at you; the same way he always did. 

With a warmth that only he had for you. It made you shiver. 

“Running, mostly.” You started, your body physically breaking your gaze with Bucky. It was too much, watching him glare down at you. And maybe you deserved it. 

“And you never thought to, I don't know, call me?” Bucky’s words were spiteful, oozing with a disdain that was beginning to wear down your patience. 

“It wasn't like that, Buck-”

“You can’t call me that anymore.” He snapped, his eyes trained on the road. Your gaze snapped to him, brow arched as you all but scoffed at him. 

“Oh, I can't?” You chuckled, but the sound came out flat. He had every right to ask you where you've been. Hell, get angry if he wanted. But the way his words seeped with disgust made your blood boil. 

“Okay, okay guys. Let’s all take a breath and just—”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both snarled, causing Sam to roll his eyes as Bucky pulled into a long winding driveway with a small log cabin sat at the end of it. You reached for your seatbelt until your door swung open. 

“You two figure your shit out. Whatever this is,” Sam motioned to the space between you two, “ isn’t leaving this car. I’ll be inside. Feel free to come in when y'all have killed and made up, okay?” With that, Sam slammed the door leaving Bucky and you alone in your static tension.

Bucky worried on his lip, his eyes trained to his lap. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words seemed caught in your throat. 

“You didn't even call…” 

It was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. But you did… 

Voice small and so filled with ache; it kicked you in the stomach, the guilt washing away any anger you had felt. 

“Bucky… I- I couldn't.” You forced out, tentative as you met his gaze, stomach dropping as your eyes locked with his. 

“I thought I lost you. I thought - I mean, fuck - you were all I cared about.” He sighed, clearing his throat as if it would help ease his discomfort. “I looked for you, ya know?” He chuckled, but there was no warmth behind it. Just a brokenness that made you squirm. 

“It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, I know it’s not.” Bucky quipped, his eyes flicking away from yours and turning back to face the cabin. “It was your own selfish decision.” 

You scoffed, head snapping back to meet his glare. “Selfish? Bucky, I had no other choice. Not everyone can be pardoned for their crimes. It’s not like I had Steve Rogers advocating for my freedom!” 

Bucky only rolled his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, you swore he might rip it clean off the car.  “Don’t bring him into this. You don't think that I would have done everything to get to you? To clear your name?”

You laughed bitterly, blinking away the tears that welled at the corners of your eyes. 

“You gotta at least give me more credit than that, Doll.” The pet name rolled off this tongue easily, washing over you, and making you freeze. 

“Please don’t call me that…” You faltered, wiping away a stray tear that rolled down your cheek. 

It seemed the tension dissipated in that moment, silence heavy between you both as Bucky reached out, his flesh fingers finding a tear and brushing it away. You tried to speak, but with everything that had been said, and all that would never be, you decided words just weren’t enough. 

You didn't have time to object before his lips were on yours, your body moving at its own accord as he pulled you onto his lap, your thighs either side of him as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. You tried to moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound. He rendered you breathless, his taste intoxicating as you melted into his embrace, grinding into him and shivering when a familiar growl slipped from his lips; vibrating against your mouth. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” You moaned out, clutching his jacket as you licked down his neck. His skin was burning against your lips, the rumble of his breath heavy against your ear as he let out a dark chuckle, urging you on. 

“Well, if you had just called me—” 

Before he could finish the sentence, you reached for the recliner, snapping it forward as you toppled forwards onto Bucky’s chest. His words fell back into his throat, hands automatically finding your hips to steady you while you fumbled with his belt. 

“Doll—” He tried to start, but you swallowed the name with your kiss, heated and rooted in a desperate need to feel him again. You ached for him in a way you’d never felt before. 

Maybe what you had was unfixable. Maybe it was beyond repair, but with the way he was kissing you and hiking down your pants, it didn't matter. You were drunk on him, and by the way he bucked his hips, so was he. 

You shivered as his vibranium fingers looped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down over your legs as you both awkwardly tried to move in the cramped seat. You wanted to laugh, but as his cold thumb swiped through your slick folds, all you could do was whine. 

“So wet for me…” He hummed, teeth sinking into your throat as he pulled a whimper from your lips. 

You cursed, hands propping you up on either side of him as he dipped his index finger into you, the intrusion enough to have your back arching into him, desperate for more. 

But Bucky was a tease. And even now, after all of this time, it was the very thing that had your buckling above him. Pleading and begging for more.

“Look at you.” He started, his eyes dark as he pushed deeper inside, his finger curing into you as you gasped. 

“P-please, Buck.” You begged, grinding down onto his hand. To your dismay he only chuckled, watching intently as you came undone around him. 

“I told you,” He started, lifting you off of him and tossing you against the backseats, “Don’t call me that.” 

You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat as he awkwardly crawled towards you. But the look in his eyes had your stomach twisting into something that emulated fear. It was guttural as he pressed into you, the outline of his cock digging into your drenched folds.

You bit back a moan, eyes rolling back in your head as his cold fingers brushed against your core, pulling himself free from his boxers. 

“Do you still love me like you did?”  He spoke, and though the words were soft and filled with promises you had broken before, there was a darkness in his voice. 

“I never stopped.” You admitted. And it was true. But that didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for as he licked his bottom lip, eyes trained on your throat. 

“I’m afraid isn’t gonna’ feel much like love, doll.” He breathed out, lining himself up with your entrance. Before you could speak, he thrusted into you, knocking the air out of your chest as he bent you uncomfortably in half. You could only scream as he caged you in, forcing you down against the seats as he fucked into you. 

It’s not like you forgot how Bucky filled you, but his size was something you would never be able by to fully adjust to. Especially not now, when he was holding you steady, his hips snapping against you giving you no time to ease into the assault. And by the looks of the lopsided smirk plastered on his swollen lips, he knew exactly how shredded you felt. 

“Fuck, you take me so good, sweetheart.” The pet name doing nothing to quell the ache he sent ripping through your body as he sank deeper into you. You could only cry out, head smashing into the door as he kept up his brutal pace. 

“B-Bucky, please.” You weren't exactly sure what you were asking for, but at this rate you wouldn't last long, the familiar coil building in your abdomen as he nudged up against your cervix. 

“Slow down, baby.” You choked on a sob, eyes glassy as his vibranium fingers coiled around you thoat, pining you to the seats.  

“Did you miss this part, doll?” He whispered against your ear, a shiver ripping through your body and igniting a flame you had so desperately craved since the moment he vanished from your world. “Miss the way I ruin you, Hm? I can feel you, coming undone. You’re so close, aren’t you?” he teased, pressing his fingers deeper into your throat until you were coughing around the pressure. 

“All I need to do is-” His flesh thumb ran circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back into your skull as you croaked out his name, begging him to ease up. “There it is.” He chuckled, quickening his pace until you were a shivering mess beneath him. 

“Bucky, I-” 

“I’m going to ruin this cunt, sweetheart. Stay still, and let go for me” His voice was like gravel, only letting you breathe once you nodded your head in complicity, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as the orgasm wrapped itself around your core. 

“Fuck.” You managed to scream, your head lulling back as a title-wave of ecstasy crashed over you, pulling you under.

“That’s my girl.” His words tipped you over the edge, his name on your lips like a prayer as you quivered, your body violently shaking. “God you're so tight when you- Shit!” 

With a few sloppy thrusts, Bucky came undone. His hot spend coating your pulsing walls as he gasped. Your bodies a tangled mess as he puffed out a breath against your neck. 

You both just stayed frozen, too afraid that the moment you pulled away, reality would sink in. And the truth was, you weren't exactly sure what that meant. 

Bucky slowly eased himself out of you, gasping a little as you spilled out onto, what you only hoped, would be easy to clean seats.

 “Doll, that was-” 

“Hey,” Sam knocked hard against the now foggy glass, “You two hungry, or what?” 

[angryschnauzer]

Warm Hands

Summary; Its your fourth date with Henry and you still haven’t slept together, so when you arrive at his house for a picnic, you are surprised to find that he needs your professional help as a physiotherapist. But once you get your warm hands on his body, neither of you can hold back much longer.

A continuation of my Henry x Physio Reader story previous part here

A/N This is wholly inspired by Henry’s recent instagram post and the part where he said that no-one needs to see him in his underwear on the kitchen table because I CERTAINLY DO.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Physiotherapist Reader 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, massaging Henrys thighs, sports injury, Henry in his underwear, unwanted erections, unprotected sex, Henry being slightly dom, reader taking control, creampie. 

Unbeta’d, all typo’s are free range and organic. I do not run a tag list but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you will get an alert every time i post something new, AND its where you can find my previous works.

Warm Hands

Parking your little car in the corner of the secluded driveway you shut the engine off and chewed nervously on your lip. It was your fourth date with Henry and he’d casually invited you for a picnic ‘in the quiet countryside’, but hadn’t been specific on the end time of your date. What was making you nervous was that you hadn’t actually slept together yet and the vagueness of the end time had you wondering. 

Your first date had been coffee a few weeks after meeting when you’d stumbled upon him injured in the park during your lunch break from the hospital where you worked as a physiotherapist. Second date had been to a rugby game where he’d put too much strain on his injured leg and had ended with him scheduling an appointment with you for some professional physio treatment. Third date had been dinner at a fancy restaurant that had ended with a mind blowing kiss in your hallway but nothing further as he had to get home to let Kal - his dog - out for an evening bathroom break.

So now you were at date number four and you were more than ready to take the relationship to the next level. You glanced at the small overnight bag you’d packed ‘just in case’ with a few essentials. Deciding to leave the bag in the car for now, you got out and made your way to the small kitchen door of the mews cottage, Henry having explained how it was the best door to come to. What you weren’t expecting to see as you looked through the glass section of the door was Henry grimacing in pain as he steadied himself on the kitchen counter. Trying the doorknob you stepped inside;

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?!” slipping your hands beneath his arms as he winced and kept all his weight on one leg.

“Cramp…” he gasped; “... in my thigh…”

Looking down you only then realised he was in just his underwear below the waist, the muscles in his thigh tense and frozen. Just then the steam iron hissed and you saw that he must have been pressing his smart chino’s just before you’d arrived;

“Ok, let's get you rested somewhere… hop onto the table…”

You helped him move the few feet to his massive wooden table that ran the centre of his kitchen, quickly moving a pile of papers on there and setting them down elsewhere, before noticing the switch for the iron and flicking that to off. Returning to Henry you placed your hands onto his cramping thigh, the muscles rock solid where the spasm was in full hold.

“Uurggh ah uuuhhh” Henry moaned, wincing and sucking in a sharp intake of breath as another spasm shot through his muscle. 

You held your hands over the muscle trying to warm it so it could relax, rubbing the skin as he whimpered from the pain;

“Shhh it’s ok, it’ll go. We just need to warm your leg up”

Running your hands around his thigh you attempted to remain as professional as possible, but the sight of his quite frankly enormous thighs under your hands were a sight to behold. Looking up you saw that Henry had his arm thrown across his face as the spasms kept sending waves of pain through his leg, and it was then that as you moved your hand around the inside of his thigh that you felt it. You couldn’t help but to look where your knuckles had just touched, your eyes going wide as you saw the considerable bulge he had packed in there. Another whimper from his lips pulled your attention away from the elephant’s trunk in the room, rubbing your hands over his thigh as it still cramped. 

Nothing seemed to be having any effect, and it was then that you saw his hand was gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were going white;

“Hen… you’re going to have to relax… let go of the table…”

He took a deep breath before finally speaking, his voice small and quiet;

“I can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because if i relax, i won’t be able to hold it back…”

It took you a few seconds to realise what he was talking about before with a dawning realisation hit that he was fighting a hard-on. What you did next surprised him enough to have him pull his arm away and look at you with wide eyed wonder, as you’d climbed into the table and straddled his thighs, your soft summer skirt falling around you. Resting your hands on his chest you nestled your leg right against his, the warmth of your skin starting to soothe the cramp;

“There…” you smiled at him; “Plus now you can relax as everything is hidden by my skirt…”

He glanced down to where you were sitting on him and you watched as he finally let go of the table, stretching his fingers out before with a smile rested his hand on your hip;

“Thank you… and i’m sorry…”

“What are you sorry for?”

“For… well…” he actually blushed, his cheeks and nose a beautiful shade of pink as he looked away bashfully; “I didn’t want you to think… umm, i don’t know really, i didn’t want to pressure you into anything…”

Resting your hands on his stomach you gently leaned forwards, your face over his as you smiled;

“You wouldn’t be pressuring me… i want this..”

At your works you rocked forward a little, knowing there was just the thinnest of lace between you and the jersey fabric that was struggling to contain Henry’s arousal. You watched as his expression change, his eyes grew a little darker and he licked his lips;

“Again…”

This time when you rolled your hips you found his other hand had grasped your hip too, his firm grip adding to the smooth roll as you ground your core against his hardening arousal. 

“C’mere…” he suddenly pulled you flush with his chest, his mouth upon yours as he kissed you fiercely which you eagerly reciprocated. The kiss was fiery, teeth and tongues before he suddenly gasped and pulled away; “FUCK!... The cramp’s back…”

Quickly sitting up you settled your weight over his thigh, the warmth from between your legs immediately soothing the strong muscle beneath you. Henry’s expression dropped and he look liked a sad kicked puppy;

“Its ok… it’ll go soon…” you reassured him

He let out a deep sigh;

“I just… i want to be able to please you…”

“To… please me?... Oh…” you took hold of his hand; “Henry… you will please me…”

“But… if i’m not at peak performance… i wanna bring my best game to our first time, ya’know?”

And just like that the blush was back on his cheeks, and you finally realised why he had been holding back;

“Henry… i really like you… like really like you, to be blunt just this brief grinding on you has me close. You don’t have to be in control all the time” you softly pressed his hand to your chest; “And i’m kinda getting the idea that when you’re in bed with someone you like to be in control, right?”

“Well, you can still be in control even if you’re not on top…”

His hand gently squeezed your breast through your dress as you watched the realisation of what you said sink in, and a mischievous smile crept over his face;

“So… what are we waiting for?” he cocked an eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help but to laugh

“Your leg to stop cramping…”

“Oh… yeah…” he flexed the muscle beneath you and smiled; “Well, it seems ok now…” his other hand started to sneak beneath your skirts and it was your turn to be surprised;

“Henry! Now? Here?”

“Why not... you already said you were close, and as you can feel i’m ready…” he bucked his hips just the tiniest amount and you felt his considerable length rub against your mound.

“On the kitchen table?”

“Yes or No sweetheart…” just then his hand had found your panties and a thick finger was rubbing at your clit through the soaked lace

“Yes… fuck yes…”

You quickly lifted your hips enough to reach into Henry’s underwear and pull his erection free, marvelling at the thick girth and the heat of the silky skin against your hand, just as he pulled your underwear to the side. Rising up onto your knees you positioned him at your entrance and slowly sank down, gasping as his thickness stretched your velvet channel;

“Oh fuck…”

Beneath you Henry growled, his sharp teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he struggled to hold back from pulling you down, knowing that his size was a struggle to take at first and letting you go at your own pace would be worth it in the end;

“That’s it babe… doing so well” he let out a grunt as you took another inch, he could feel the warmth of your thighs as you got lower and was almost there, until he couldn’t hold out any longer and his hand instinctively pulled you down the rest of the way until he was balls deep inside you.

The moans that escaped your lips echoed around the room, your womb trembling from the sheer pleasure that was surging through you as you let your body adjust to his massive size. He rested both hands on your hips as you moved your own to his hard stomach, and with a grin you started to lift your hips and start to ride him.

“That’s it Babe” he praised you as he started to move your hips, to pull you down a little harder each time you would rise up on your knees; “Can feel your tight cunt squeezing me so hard already”

A litany of curses fell from your lips as he took control, moving you as if you weighed no more than a feather and he fucked you from beneath. Your orgasm was growing closer as whimpers escaped your lips, before with a blinding explosion in your mind you came with a scream. 

Henry was seconds behind, the tight squeeze of your cunt around him was enough to set his own orgasm off, pumping you full with rope after rope of his thick creamy seed, the knowledge that you’d be walking around all day with his cum dripping from you prolonging his orgasm even longer.

Henry pulled you down to kiss you, this time soft and gentle as his lips pressed to yours, your bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of your tryst. Resting on his chest you pulled away and smiled at him, his arms holding you tight;

“Do you still want to go on a picnic today? My friend has a hundred acre farm in the Surrey Hills, its beautiful”

“I’d love to” you started to push yourself up to decouple your bodies; “Sounds secluded too” 

“Oh, it is”

Carefully swinging your leg over Henry and climbing off the table, you extending a hand to him so he could side to the floor too;

“Can i suggest something then? Perhaps not chino’s then?”

He glanced at his still creased trousers as they sat on the abandoned ironing board;

“Why?”

“Grass stains” you said with a wink. 

Henry pulled you to his chest, his hand on your ass giving it a squeeze;

“Ooh naughty… good idea, i’ll go get my jeans… this is going to be a picnic to remember”

As he stepped away he called over his shoulder;

“If you brought an overnight bag might be worth bringing it in now, i fully intend on fucking you so much this afternoon you’ll be too exhausted to carry it in later”

Laughing you said ok as you went to your car, glad you packed multiple changes of underwear. As you returned to the house you went to pull a clean pair of panties out of the bag just as Henry was walking in buttoning his jeans and saw what was in your hand;

“No no, you’re keeping those panties on”

“But they’re soaked with your cum”

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes dark with desire;

“That’s exactly why you’re keeping them on, the only other acceptable attire would to be bare beneath that pretty dress of yours, understand?”

“Yes Sir” you answered with a smirk as Henry grabbed the picnic basket and headed for the door. It was certainly going to be an afternoon to remember...

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 23}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was torn.

Half of her thought that Cassian was overreacting, but the other half of her thought that his anger and frustration was perfectly justified.

What exactly were they getting into? And, was it what was best for Nyx? Yeah, the last month had been great, but if it didn’t work out, what would that mean for him? Would it be better if she and Cassian had simply remained two friends, co-parenting under one roof?

Nesta’s heart began to beat a little faster.

She felt like she was going into a panic attack.

Cassian and Nyx had been gone for an hour, and every second that passed became more and more unbearable.

She needed him to be there.

She needed to figure this out.

She just didn’t know what the answer was.

Alis had gotten into her head, there was no doubt about that. A little over an hour ago, she was living in a dream, then Alis came in, out of nowhere, and brought her back to reality.

She was sitting on the couch, almost exactly where he’d left her, when he finally returned. He was covered in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to him. Nyx was having a conversation with him, more to himself though, since it didn’t seem like Cassian was even close to paying attention to him. But his eyes went directly to Nesta as soon as he walked in.

She’d changed. She no longer wore his t-shirt, instead in a loose shirt of her own and a pair of jeans, and her hair was loose and wet around her face. As if she’d need to shower their night together, shower him off of her. Not a shred of that beautiful skin was showing, not like she’d been doing lately. Leggings and shorts and tank tops. She’d been comfortable around him.

With a scoff, Cassian set Nyx down on the floor. He headed for the stairs, but Nesta stood, nearly toppling the cup of coffee she’d been clutching over as she set it on the coffee table. “Cassian, we need to talk about this.”

He paused, waving a hand towards her. “What for? It looks like you’ve already made your decision.”

“I need you to calm down,” she said, steadily. “I need you to think logically.”

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me.”

Nesta hesitated. “Tell you what?”

“If this is something you want to pursue or if I just wasted the last couple months falling in love with you,” he finished.

His voice may have lacked emotion, but Nesta felt every word like a stab in the chest. Falling in love with you. Those were the words she was going to tell him today, under much different circumstances.

Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Now, she was overwhelmed.

Now, all of her thoughts were rushing toward the same spot in the middle of her skull at a thousand miles an hour, and when they got there, her head would explode.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“But it should be,” Cassian said. “If you feel the way that I do, it should be that easy.”

“We have to think of Nyx,” she breathed.

“I am thinking of Nyx,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. At the sound of his name, the baby turned to look at him. “I want him to grow up in a happy home, seeing two people who love each other, and damn it if that isn’t how it’s been for the past few weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “What happens if we break up? What happens if we get in a fight or something happens to one of us? What then?”

He had strode down the stairs and was in front of her before he could stop himself. He framed her face in his hands, like he had so many times the past month, to kiss her, to make love to her, to show her how he cared for her. “Why are you worrying about the what if’s? Why are you worrying about what could go wrong, rather than how right everything has been?”

Because everything goes wrong eventually. The only reason we’re together is because we were shoved into this house after the worst thing imaginable happened. They died. We took over. What right do we have to be happy?

The words flooded her mind, but stilled on her tongue.

Nesta didn’t push him away. She wanted to reach up on her toes and kiss him, softly, but she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze. “Cass,” she breathed.

The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Nyx had walked up to them and was hugging Nesta’s leg, as if he knew that she needed the comfort.

“Dont say my name like that,” he whispered.

Nesta slowly shook her head. “I just think this has all happened too quickly. We haven’t been thinking, we’ve just been acting-.”

“You’re pushing me away,” Cassian interrupted, swallowing harshly. “Damn it, Nesta.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“Because you’re not making sense,” he argued. “Things have been perfect—”

“They’re dead!” She cried, pulling from his grip, scooping Nyx up. “Things have been far from perfect. We’re only like this now because Rhys and Feyre are dead.”

The words seemed to freeze something inside of Cassian and he stepped back as well. “So what? We go back to how we used to be? I’m back in the guest room and we awkwardly exchange good mornings over breakfast?”

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him, the scent of him, everything. “I don’t know, Cassian, I don’t—.” She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping tighter around Nyx. “I just need some time to think, to breathe…”

When she looked back up at him, his jaw was set and he was slowly nodding. “Fine. Take your time.”

And then he was moving, back up the stairs before Nesta could even ask what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he was back with a duffle bag in his hands.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you space,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Nesta opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was frozen where she stood, her feet stuck to the floor, her mouth hanging open, that panic rising from the pit of her stomach into her heart, which was beating far too quickly.

Cassian kissed Nyx on the forehead as he passed, but paid Nesta no mind as he went for the door.

“Cassian!” She called, at last.

Cassian stopped just in front of the door, keeping his back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“You're just going to leave?” She asked, quietly, bouncing a sleepy Nyx on her hip. “Just like that?”

Cassian didn’t turn around. “Are you going to ask me to stay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Nesta said nothing.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, exhaustion lacing his tone. “Maybe I need time to think, too.”

He opened the door and shut it softly behind him.

*

He didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He knew where he wanted to be, but right now…

He couldn’t look at her.

It didn’t escape him that when he’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, she didn’t say it back. He couldn’t even act like he hadn’t seen her eyes flare in panic. So he couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t go back to sleeping in that guest room, not when he’d become so used to sleeping with her in his arms every night.

So Cassian had ended up here, knocking on his brother’s door, thankful that his car had been parked in the driveway when he pulled up.

He needed a drink. He needed someone to tell him he was being an asshole. He needed someone to listen while he vented and bitched. He knew Azriel would do all that for him.

When he answered the door, Seph was in his arms, pulling on his bottom lip. She smiled when she saw Cassian, but Azriel’s surprised smile quickly faded.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, looking at the duffel bag tossed over Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Azriel stared at him for a second before stepping aside and letting Cassian pass.

“Are we talking about this now or later?” Azriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Beer?” Cassian asked, dropping his bag beside the couch.

“Fridge,” Azriel said, slowly, watching him.

Cassian made his way to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a cold bottle and chugging its contents.

Azriel followed, leaning against the countertop and Seph continued to play with his lips.

“Where’s Elain?” Cassian asked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and getting another.

“Work,” Azriel said, sighing. “So, if this involves smack talking Nesta, you may want to get it out now.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do that, barely wanted to think about her. But he owed Azriel at least some explanation.

“The social worker stopped by this morning,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter and opening the beer. “And honestly, yeah, it was unexpected, but I figured it’d be fine. Last time, Nes was drunk off her ass, but we— I figured, since we were more of a family this time, things would be great.”

Azriel blinked. “They’re not taking Nyx, are they?”

Another shake of his head. “No, gods, no. They— She could tell he was in good hands, but she immediately picked up on Nesta and I. What we’ve…become.”

It seemed, just like Cassian, Azriel didn’t see it as a problem. He wasn’t following. “And?”

“And Nyx was hungry so I left the social worker and Nesta alone to get him breakfast. I came back and she’s gone and Nesta is second-guessing our relationship. She asked if I’m just fucking her out of convenience.”

The thought made him sick to his stomach, almost as badly as it hurt his heart.

“And you replied with…” Azriel began, trailing off, waiting for Cassian to finish the sentence.

“I went for a jog,” Cassian said, shrugging.

“So you ran away?” Azriel pushed.

Cassian shot him a look. “No. I went for a jog.”

Azriel sighed. “And when you came back?”

“She said she needed space,” Cassian said, emptying his bottle.

Azriel set Seph on the floor with a plastic spatula, which she instantly start banging on the cabinets. “And that’s when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run,” Cassian snapped. “I gave her what she wanted. I gave her space.”

Azriel slowly shook his head. “Did you even try to talk things out?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, the word clipped. “Told her I was falling in love with her, and guess how she replied?”

Azriel watched his brother.

“Didn’t say a fucking word,” Cassian finished.

When Azriel didn’t speak, he walked back to the trash can, dropping the bottle inside.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here,” he said, unable to turn around and look his brother in the eye. “She was ending it. She was calling things off and I’m supposed to, what? Just keep living there like we were before? Pretend nothing has changed?” He swallowed hard, willing the damn tears clouding his vision to fade. They wouldn’t. “She didn’t even ask me to stay.”

Azriel sighed, opening a cabinet beside the fridge that Seph couldn’t reach. He produced a bottle of whiskey and set it on the counter. “I can’t drink until Elain gets home. And I absolutely think you need to talk to Nesta, but I think you’re right. You need to stay here tonight. Give her space.”

Cassian blinked, and a tear that was holding on slid free, down his cheek. He angrily wiped it away. He felt ridiculous, but it had been a long time since he had told a woman that he loved her. He’d never said it in his adulthood. A couple times in his teens, before he knew what the word really meant, but never as an adult.

He’d said it.

He’d meant it.

And she hadn’t felt the same.

Cassian nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

*

Nesta stared at Cassian’s contact on her phone screen.

She wanted to press the call button, but didn’t.

She did open a blank text a few times, but couldn’t type anything.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted Cassian.

But, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

She had never been one who was dependent on a man, had spent most of her twenties single and having no problem with it. But suddenly, she couldn’t imagine her day to day life without Cassian in it. And that terrified her.

She heard murmuring on the baby monitor sitting next to her on the side table and glanced over to see Nyx sitting up in his crib.

It had been nearly three hours since Cassian left, and aside from putting Nyx down for a nap, Nesta had barely moved. She still sat in the same spot on the couch she’d been in when the social worker had shown up and when she’d ignored that Cassian had said that he loved her.

The words should have filled her with joy and she should have screamed from the rooftops that she loved him, too. Instead she locked up and thought she was going to be sick.

What was wrong with her?

Wiping away the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen, Nesta hurried up the stairs, and into Nyx’s nursery. He reached for her the moment he saw her, his own big, blue eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” She cooed, resting his head against her shoulder.

After a deep sigh, he looked up at her and reached for a tear that had fallen down her cheek. His lip began to wobble.

“I’m okay,” Nesta promised, even though her voice cracked and those tears continued. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise.”

Nyx knew, though.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He knew Cassian was gone.

He knew Nesta was heartbroken.

Little did he know that her heartbreak was self-inflicted.

Nyx laid his head back on her shoulder and clung to her. He stayed like that as she walked back downstairs and sat back in her spot on the couch.

He held onto her, looking around the room. She knew he was looking for him and was about to tell him he wasn’t here when he spoke. The word wasn’t a mash up of noises like it had always been. No, it was a true and steady word. His first word.

“Dada?”

Nesta froze. She didn’t even know what to say. Should she tell him Cassian wasn’t his father? He probably wouldn’t even understand, just like he didn’t understand where Rhys and Feyre had gone.

But…for all intents and purposes, Cassian was his daddy now. And she was his mama.

So she pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered. “He had to leave, baby. He had to go for a little while.”

Nesta hoped and prayed that Cassian would walk back through that door, and yet, she couldn’t muster the courage to ask him to.

That night, instead of Cassian taking up the spot next to her, it was Nyx, who held her hand until they both fell asleep.