#stand alone cheese shop

[dinosaurwithablog]

I visited the Stand Alone Cheese shop in Queens. They have every cheese that I've ever dreamt of and so many that I will now dream of. The people there are kind and very knowledgeable about cheese. They proved to me that I've got a friend in cheeses😉 I should've brought an extra suitcase that I could've filled with cheese to bring home. Next time, I will. Right now, the extra space I have to bring things home is already almost full of pizza, bialys, egg rolls, and Italian cookies. But I still bought some Parmesan reggiano, pecorino romano, and some asiago to take home. I'll find a way to squeeze it in. I couldn't resist. I can't wait to cook with these cheeses!!! Mama mia, this will be delicious 😋 😍 TSA always looks at me kinda funny when they see my bags are packed with food, but I don't mind because it's sooooooo worth it 😁 I love NY ❤️

[thefrankshow]

The Cheese Stands Alone

[brittle-doughie]

Introducing the Y/N plush! And the cookies and what they do with said plush!

The cookie in the second image are, shining glitter, pomegranate, chess choco twins, golden cheese, caramelon, custard the lll, black pearl, licorice, lychee, komiho, Affogato, lilac, onion, stardust, space doughnut, timekeeper, shadow milk, white lily, snap dragon, pitya, abyss monarch and fire spirit. And if your wondering, the two drawings took 6 hours total-)

The Earthbread Big Seller!

I can tell which of the two took you the longest. I would like to know what it says next to Snapdragon if you can!

“Amazing Y/N Plush! Collect your very own doll to keep. Be the first one on your block to own the amazing new Y/N Plush! Please do not fight over them!”

[A large line had formed at Butterbear’s shop! Cookies of the sea and sky have emerged too to get their very own plush!]

Many fans had considered Shining Glitter’s latest show to be one of her best! She couldn’t take all of the credit though, she had help!

She cuddled close the Y/N plush she had next to her mic stand. She can count on it to allow her to give it her all, as if Y/N themself was watching her!

Having her own plush hold up a mirror for her to help fix her hair up already made itself more useful to Pomegranate than a certain cookie in the CoD.

She took a quick look around before she took it with her to bed, dozing off with the plushie clutched tightly in her arms.

The Chess Choco duo loved that they now have an observer to their chess games in the form of their own Y/N plush! They didn’t expect one or the other to pull anything tricky, but it was nice to have some sort of reassurance that no sneaky tactics came into play!

They split the time in half with how much each of the two got to have the plush. It doesn’t stop disputes from breaking out that had Earl Grey stepping in from time to time!

One of Golden Cheese Cookie’s favorite things to do with her Y/N plush would be to dress it up in whatever amount of riches she can put on it the little doll.

One of her favorite outfits for it is one that makes the plush look like a resident of her own kingdom, complete with wings to match hers. Something she has planned for the real deal when she gets the opportunity!

Carameleon Cookie was so stoked to have a buddy to call his own within the forested areas close to the Silver Kingdom. It sure beats being alone all the time!

He can tell you that he isn’t too attached to the thing as he waits for the actual Y/N Cookie to come by. He just..doesn’t want to lose it, okay?!

It was good to have one of his loyal subjects always around to listen what he had to say! Even if it was just a plush version of them, Custard Cookie III could spend minutes just talking to the plush as if it were a real cookie!

It’s why he considers it as one of his best subjects in the kingdom! Right behind the real Y/N Cookie, of course!

Black Pearl’s Y/N plush is nothing short of the best thing to ever grace her waters. It was down to the very last detail the cookie of her dreams had.

She’d never tire of it, acting protective over the plush, something she’d be more aggressively so if the real Y/N Cookie was with her! The plush will look amazing within her dwelling!

Licorice Cookie didn’t care about Pomegranate’s venom spewing mouth these days, not when he has his bestest friend, the Y/N plush, with him!

He can truly confide his secrets and feelings towards the little plush, like his feelings towards Y/N Cookie, but it better not blab to you! He even uses the plush as a guardian for his diary!

Ha! Why wait in line for a plush when Lychee Dragon could just swipe it from that fumbler, Kumiho Cookie! She didn’t appreciate Y/N Cookie enough, so why not give it to a dragon that certainly will!

Kumiho was not having it though, angrily coming after the dragon for stealing her darling in plush form! She did not let Lychee’s lies get to her, she’s taking back that plush!

Affogato Cookie could just monologue all day to his plush on how he plans to take over the throne one day and Y/N Cookie will join him as part of that dream!

He’d promise nothing but the best life for you with a luxurious life with no worries or limits as he went to caress the plush’s cheek. The best victory would be to have you for himself while that Caramel Arrow Cookie watched! He can’t stop giggling to himself about it!

With how popular these plushies were getting, Lilac was particularly watchful of his. He already called it his own with the lilac scent and he’ll bring down anyone swiping his plush from him.

He always keeps it on his person, both as a precaution and that he has easy access to it to hold and cuddle close when he’s needy. It’s what he would’ve done to the actual Y/N Cookie.

Blackberry Cookie can always count on Y/N Cookie to help settle down Onion during one of her crying bouts, she enjoyed the company from them too. So it was a total win when she received a plush for herself and for Onion.

Onion always liked to go to bed holding both her doll and plushie to ensure a good night’s rest without the fear of a nightmare waking her up, for she trusts the Y/N plush to help her even in her dreams.

Stardust doesn’t mind sharing his Y/N plushie with his friend, Space Doughnut. After all, they share the same trait of seeing Y/N Cookie as a dear friend. Space Doughnut was just as trusting with theirs to Stardust as well!

Space Doughnut does get overly excited when they could play around with BOTH plushies, making Stardust laugh with a smile as Doughnut happily played the two plushies.

Was it really any surprise that Timekeeper Cookie wanted to be greedy and have a number of Y/N plushies? They’re her favorite, why wouldn’t she take them? It wasn’t like the original owners could prove anything against her.

Timekeeper Cookie cuddled herself amidst her plushies without a care in the world, relishing in seeing the face of the cookie she liked all around her. Though it wouldn’t hurt to try and grab a couple more to her collection…and then Y/N Cookie themself!

Shadow Milk’s puppet show was going to be wonderful with the guest of honor being Y/N Cookie themself! Almost! He was able to obtain a plushie from one of his clown faeries and he was absolutely adoring it!

The plushie is always going to be a part of his puppet shows, interacting with a doll of himself that he made. How romantic it would be if the two stuffed dolls danced and smushed together to replicate a kiss! It even made Shadow Milk himself blush at the thought of you and him possibly doing that too~

One of the faeries had gently opened White Lily’s glass case, placing down a Y/N plush they had gotten for her. She immediately grabbed it and clutched it tight close to her, a smile on her face being the indicator that she liked the plush already.

One of the faeries had gotten curious about what made this plushie so dear to her as she reached for it and tried to pull it out of her arms. She had to quickly reel her hand back when White Lily swiped at it, nuzzling the plushie closer to her body, shielding it from any further attempts.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie didn’t expect Snapdragon to enjoy their Y/N plush that much to the point that they whined for Pitaya to hand it over to them. While this was meant to be for Pitaya only, they didn’t mind it as they give it to the young dragon.

Snapdragon immediately swiped it up and flies around with the doll in their arms, babbling happily as they played around with the stuff toy. Pitaya couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was just like when Y/N Cookie would play with Snapdragon themself…

Abyss Monarch Cookie didn’t find themself going out much, especially for something as small as a stuffed plush. Yet there they were, having went out and gotten a Y/N to call their own.

This sense of adoration they start to feel for this plush was almost on the same level as they had for Y/N Cookie themself. They gently picked it up and spun slowly around with it, was this feeling a sign and not a temporary emotion? This feeling of…longing…

Fire Spirit was so stoked to have receive his own plush that he couldn’t wait to have simmer down first before messing around with it, too enveloped in his own that his hands start to emit smoke touching the plush.

He started to freak out when he open his eyes to see that he had turned the plush into a pile of ash, crying in anguish as he tried to salvage what he can. He went back to Butterbear Cookie with the news and he was generous enough to give him a replacement, warning him to be more careful next time!

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

Index:

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 1 - Size of A Plum | ‘Ours’

Pancakes. That was the only thing in your mind since you went to sleep last night. It was obscenely early so Trent was still fast asleep when you slipped out of your bedroom. He had a game last night and although you knew he preferred to wake up and have a cuddle with you after being knackered from his match. Unfortunately for him, your pregnancy cravings were not going to be as understanding as you knew he would be. You tiptoed down the stairs and crept into the kitchen. You turned on the warm lights and looked out into the still dark morning outside. You moved around the kitchen seamlessly pulling out all the ingredients for blueberry pancakes. It was hard not to make any noise as you whisked the batter in a ceramic bowl but you tried your best. You knew things were still fairly easy for you this early in your pregnancy so you were cherishing the morning and moments of fleeting ease and alone time. You swayed back and forth in a pair of Trent’s joggers and a little tank top focused on getting the pancakes a perfect golden brown humming the song currently stuck in your head. You were oblivious to the fact that a sleepy Trent had snuck into the kitchen. Your heart just about stopped when you felt his warm hands come around your waist. He tucked his head onto your shoulder and rested his chin on you.

“Hi baby…” you whispered, twisting your neck to try to land a quick peck on him. Your free hand rubbed over his arms that had wrapped tightly around you. He only hummed, pressing a kiss to your bare skin. “Sorry, I really wanted pancakes. I didn’t mean to wake you up, sleepy boy.” Your thumb continued to brush his strong arms in front of you.

“Cute...” he whispered with another kiss. He squeezed you a little tighter. He thought everything you did since becoming pregnant was adorable. You personally thought your indecision and late night cravings were annoying but if he thought otherwise you weren’t going to be the one to ruin it for him. Anything you wanted, he handled it and he loved doing it. Trent would get up in the middle of the night and drive to the shop just to get the specific red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting you were thinking about. .

“I know you don’t want these.” You giggled, flipping a pancake over. You knew this was not Trent’s breakfast of choice. He hummed a ‘nuhuh’ He could barely get any words out he was so tired. You felt bad he was even standing up with you. “Want an omelet, T?” He didn’t respond, he just kissed your shoulder again. You slid the spatula under the pancake and plopped it onto a plate off to the side and turned off the burner. You spun around encased in his arms. You brought your hands up to cup his face. You rubbed your nose against his. “Can you at least go lay on the couch for me? You’re making me feel bad. I’ll come bring it over to you when I’m done.” You cooed before pressing your soft lips against his. It only elicited another hum. His eyelids were so heavy you could barely see his beautiful big brown eyes making you feel that much worse he was awake.

“Promise you’ll come be with me? I want to spend my morning with you, baby.” He slid his hands in your his joggers to lay over your ass. His hands massaged over the soft skin. You smirked at his affectionate touch. Trent was always inadvertently so touchy when he was sleepy. He was so clingy and it made you melt. It was so cute for someone who typically liked to be alone, that, in these moments, he wanted to be so close to you.

“I promise” you assured him with a kiss.

“Good” he mumbled out before letting go of you. He pressed a sleepy kiss to your cheek and turned to leave the kitchen. You watched him tiredly trudge off rubbing his hands over his eyes. His exposed back muscles looked really really good. You swooned at him doused in morning light. When you were finished cooking, you quietly shuffled over to the living room. You didn’t know if he might’ve fallen back asleep because it was so dark in the room but he was there nestled up in the corner of the couch watching the tv. He just hadn’t been able to manage turning on any lights.

“Can I turn a light on?” You whispered, carrying two plates and waters under your arm. He nodded. So you awkwardly turned them on holding the food. You sat down next to him and put everything down on the coffee table. You tucked your legs into a crossed position and settled back into the big cushion behind you. Trent was ironically quick with his sleepy movement to come and collapse over into your lap. He laid over your legs turning his head to your body away from the tv. He kissed at your bare stomach.

“I’m sorry” he murmured out against your skin between kisses.

“For what?” You giggled looking down at him stroking your hand over his head.

“I should be taking care of you…” you could tell in his tone that he genuinely felt really guilty. He liked his sleep. He didn’t need to feel bad for that. You wanted him to get some rest. You didn’t need him this morning. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have wanted to wake him after a match but you might’ve asked.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You promised him continuing to stoke his face.

“Thank you” he said before sitting up right. His hand came to hold your jaw and turned your head towards him. He kissed your lips gently before turning to his plate. He took the first bite and gave a dramatic ‘mmmmm’ in delight at the taste of his omelet. “How lucky am I to have you, Ms. Y/L/N” you just giggled at how ridiculous he was. It was only eggs. You wiped the side of his mouth with your thumb. You ate your breakfasts together and then snuggled up laying on the couch for the rest of the morning. You gazed up at him and he just looked so comfy. He looked sleepy and happy but also just so at home. You knew he literally was at his home but you felt it was nice to see him so relaxed. You nuzzled up into his chest and laid practically on top of him as he watched sky sports tick on about something happening in La Liga. He was so warm and he smelt so good you felt yourself becoming intoxicated by it, falling into the same state of sleepy relaxation he was in. He rubbed his hands over you slowly and over time his hands found their way underneath your thin tank top.

“You look good today” he cooed as he drowsily kissed you all over.

“Just today?” You cheekily teased. Lifting your head a little to see him not particularly impressed with your joke so early.

“Everyday” he confirmed anyway with a more substantial peck of his lips on your head. “You doing okay, beautiful?” He asked, thinking about the passing weeks and early stages of the pregnancy. You just hummed a ‘mmhmm’ and he was too tired to press for something more. “Our baby is so lucky. Going to have the most beautiful mummy.” Followed by more kisses. You didn’t even realize you were falling to sleep but being in his loving embrace had that effect. It probably was from how early you had gotten up but no matter you were out like a light soon after his the last words rang in your head. Trent kept you on his chest stroking his warm hands up your back until he decided to wiggle out from under you to get up. You moaned a little but he just gave you a kiss and tucked you in with a blanket. You curled right up, staying asleep, unconsciously okay with the new arrangement. He picked up the finished plates and brought them back to the kitchen and did the dishes. Trent was really good about pulling his weight with any household things like dishes or laundry. He wasn’t the best at them but he did them and you appreciated it. You did them more often just simply out of how much more time you were home compared to him but since the pregnancy he’d been so considerate trying to make sure you didn’t have to do anything at home. He sat at the kitchen island on his phone for a little before he trotted back over to you.

“Baby, George asked if I wanted to play FIFA with the lads. Do you care?” He whispered sitting down next to your frame as he stroked your arm laying overtop the blanket. Your eyes were barely able to flutter open.

“Why are you asking… yes?” You groaned confused he was waking you up for this. He laughed mocking your dramatic ‘yes’ before he got up and left for the cinema with a particularly wet kiss you winced at. When you woke up an hour or so later you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. You got a little notification from an app that your baby was about the size of a plum now. It made your heart flutter. That was so cute to imagine. You couldn’t wait to tell Trent but for now you knew he was in the middle of a game with friends. You lounged around until you got an unexpected FaceTime from your best friend, Lauren.

“Guess who's coming to see you!” She squealed

“Oh my god! Really?” You echoed her excitement.

“Yesss, I’m flying over in a few weeks…” she began to rant about how excited she was to go out and bang… it hit you. You hadn’t told Lauren you were pregnant yet. In a few weeks you wondered what size fruit your baby would be by then. You wouldn’t be able to go out the way you normally did. You promised you’d tell her first when this happened… How were you going to do this? You certainly weren’t going to tell your best friend over FaceTime. “Can you come to London?” Her voice cut your train of thought in half. She rattled off the exact dates she was going to be in the UK.

“Oh… erm, I should be able to. I have to check with T, like what’s he’s doing or…” you kind of babbled trying to think of you had any appointments or what Trent would think of you going or telling her about the pregnancy so early. There was so much going through your mind. Normally you wouldn’t think twice about a trip to see Lauren. “If he needs me at home. I should be able to. Sorry.” You shook your head at how silly you sounded.

“Wow…so domestic, it's giving wife.” She joked and you rolled your eyes. She said she could come up to see you if London was difficult for you. She didn’t understand why you were being weird but regardless she wanted to see her best friend if she was in the same country. You had to make a plan.

When you hung up the phone, you realized you needed to shower and get off this couch. You could hear Trent’s friend yelling about their game from the cinema as you walked by. You jogged upstairs and hopped in. As you stood under the water watching it cascade over your boobs you became increasingly more aware of your changing hormone levels. The sexual desire you were experiencing in the last few weeks was off the charts. You felt like you were horny all the time. Your nipples were so hard, completely unprovoked. You stared down at your stomach. You didn’t really have a bump yet but you felt like you could tell. You felt incredibly needy and desperate to be taken care of. When you stepped out of the shower you didn’t really bother with clothes. You were wearing hardly anything when you ran down the stairs directly to the cinema determined to find the boy you knew would take care of you. You stood in the doorway watching Trent playing fifa with all his friends online. You whined his name quietly and sheepishly.

“Mates, hold on.” Trent said to his friends. He turned toward you and smiled, unknowing of your plan. You walked over to him casually after he acknowledged you and just sat down on his lap immediately making out with him. He was taken aback but didn’t exactly stop you. His hands wrapped around your waist as yours ghosted under his shirt. You were sloppy and eager. He pulled away laughing. “I’m in the middle of a game, baby.” You tried to go in for another kiss, beginning to grind down on his lap subtly. He turned his head away from you with a big smile. “Okay, okay. C’mere.” He couldn’t stop laughing at your antics but insistently pulled you into a hug tucking his chin over your shoulder onto your back. You huffed at the rejection but sat on his lap anyways settling for his proximity, time being. Trent ran his hands up your bare back very quickly noting you weren’t wearing a bra before he picked up his controller again. He listened to the boys on the line discussing the game they were about to start playing. He pulled back from your embrace quickly to look at your desperate face with his smug one before they began the game.

“Aren’t you cold? You're not wearing very much, baby.” You shook your head ‘no.’ As much as Trent was committed to playing the game with his friend he wasn’t opposed to you sitting on his lap right now. In fact, he was particularly happy with your choice of clothes or lack thereof. He was going to make this as great for him and as hard for you as possible. “Sure you're not cold?” You shook your head ‘no’ again. “Well, if you're not… You might as well not be wearing this at all then, yeah?” You smirked at him, happy with the direction of his words thinking you were getting what you wanted. “Yeah, let’s get this off.” He cooed, pulling your shirt off over your head. You sat in front of him completely on display for Trent now. “You look so good, baby” he whispered with his hands stroking up your sides, eyes glued to your bare top half. His friends were about to start the fifa match when you wrapped your arms around him pushing your tits against him while rubbing yourself down on his thigh as Trent attempted to pay attention to what everyone was saying about the game. You could feel him getting harder as you cuddled into him, nibbling on his neck. He needed to adjust his dick now so he shuffled in the chair. You pouted at him unhappy with the change. You wanted to whine but you didn’t know if his mic was on.

“George, gimme one minute.” Trent barely got the words out. It was hard to think straight with your current state. He muted himself.

“Can you be quiet for me, beautiful?” He looked at you so seriously with lust burning behind his eyes. Your eyes lit up. You zipped over your mouth locking it with your hand. You couldn’t wait to see what he was about to do. You felt your mouth water. He pulled his hard cock that was about to start leaking precum out. “Want to sit first or can I start, baby?”

“You can start. I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered. Trent told his friends he was good to go. He started the game. You wasted no time lining his cock up with your wet entrance. You sank yourself down on his length carefully. The two of you silently gasped feeling him slip between your wet folds inside. You were slow but it wasn’t long until he filled you to the hilt. He felt so fucking big and then… he didn’t move. You panicked coming to realize you were in for it.

“Such a good girl f’me.” He whispered. You wanted to moan or move. Anything. You were absolutely dripping on him. It felt like ages you were sitting there desperately. You impatiently kissed his neck trying your best to persuade him to do something. Everytime you would take your efforts to far he would tease you more. It was excruciatingly and deliciously painful. The FIFA game clock was counting down. He was gonna be done soon, he knew that, you didn’t, so when he began to thrust up into you, you bit his neck harshly in an attempt to muffle the noises you were dying to let out. He hissed at the feeling of your teeth against his skin.

“You good Trentski?” One of the boys asked, caught off guard by the noise.

“Yeah, yeah dropped something” he lied followed by a little snicker.

“Another game?” Another boy asked when they finished.

“Eh sorry, bro, I’m out. I gotta go lads” Trent spoke pulling you off his chest to see you. You smiled deviously at him. “Yeah, lads, I gotta go, I'm sorry.” His hands worked up your body to come and tease your nipples. Your mouth dropped into a pleasurable ‘o.’

“Alright, bro. See you later. Bye, Y/N.” George cooed. He could tell immediately by the change in Trent’s tone and breath. You giggled at George before you gasped when Trent thrusted up once more, turning off his game.

“What do you need?” He whispered. His low, raspy voice sent waves of pleasure all over your body. Your body responded to him like it was his… in fact, it was his. You didn’t respond as you tried to bounce on his cock. He held you still by your hips firmly down on him. “Answer me, baby” he demanded.

“Can I ride you, please.” You whined still trying to move against him.

“Yeah, beautiful. You can, go on.” He shushed you softly, letting go over your hips running his hands down the curve of your ass. As much as Trent was in control right now he couldn’t help but feel a little hypnotized by your body as you began to ride him. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him. The look in your eyes made Trent tense. “Oh baby, don’t give me that face. I’m not gonna last.” He grunted out. He slapped your ass and you smirked. You moaned at the second. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight. You want to cum for me? Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby, please.” He begged. He knew exactly what to do, what to say to get you there.

“Ah fuck. T… T… oh my god. T…” you moaned feeling the tight knot in your stomach snap.

“There you go. Say my name, beautiful. Tell me who this pussy needed.” Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t do anything but give into your next orgasm building up. The room filled with the sound of your skin slapping. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his cock pulling his orgasm from him. He cursed as he filled you. His cum painted your was white. Your sensitive pussy overflowing with both of your juices.

“Holy shit, baby.” You whined. As he stilled inside of you finishing out his high. He collapsed his head into the valley of your boobs when he was done. You thought you were done, until you felt him starting to suck on your nipples.

“C’mon let’s go again, baby. Need you.” Trent muffled into your tits. He picked you up by your ass and held you up aligning your dripping core with his hardening cock. He fucked up into again for a while before you could feel that familiar knot tightening again.

“Oh my fucking god, T! I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum all over your cock, baby!” You moaned, feeling your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

“That’s it, baby. Let me make you cum. Let me hear you. Cum on my cock.” Trent groaned as he continued hitting onto your sensitive nipples. You panted overwhelmed with the feeling. “You’re such a good girl f’me.” His thrusts started to become sloppy feeling his own release approaching. Your legs with a quivering mess, your toes curling at the mind blowing delectation you were experiencing.

You moaned when you felt a second orgasm crash over you. You threw your head back, your dripping pussy clenching deliciously around his cock. His thrusts didn’t seize, continuing to drill your pussy with the need to reach his own release

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum, baby. Take it f’me. Take it like a good girl.” His orgasm quickly approached. He watched your beautiful face. You were completely in a daze. Your eyes were half lidded looking at him. You were so in love with him. “You’re mine. You’re all mine.” Trent groaned as he came for a second time. He stilled exhausted. You collapsed your head onto his shoulder and held onto him. After awhile he pulled your sticky body off his for a moment to pull himself out. He groaned at the sight of his soaked cock. He sat back in his chair admiring his view. You straddled over him sweaty, panting, dripping. You cuddled up to him. You relished in the warmth that was radiating off your naked bodies. This was all he ever needed, you completed his existence.

“You know what I was thinking?” You giggled while walking to the kitchen for water. You finally were coming back to reality although still completely spent.

“What’s that, pretty girl?” Trent said, squeezing your side before sitting on a chair at the kitchen island. He pulled you in between his legs giving you a childish full toothy smile. You began to ramble. He just liked to listen to you. Your voice and accent were comforting. He didn’t really care what the topic was. He just wanted to hear what your thoughts were, your opinions, the way your mind worked. He loved hearing you talk and he let you just smiling at your animated face. You giggled and his chest warmed. He wanted the sound to be on loop for him forever. He never wanted you to not be giggling with him. He held you in the kitchen while you babled away completely smitten and enamored by you. You were the only woman he ever wanted.

At the end of the week, you and Trent were attending an event in Manchester. It was a gala for a charity a friend was having. It was massive; a ton of people you didn’t know would be there. The second you heard about it you began to worry about hiding your bump. You were keeping the pregnancy quiet for now. Trent wasn’t keen on going to the event but he had to. He was really anxious and while you usually would go with him regardless you definitely were going to this one just to hold his hand to make him feel better. He wasn’t crazy about big social gatherings. Neither were you but Trent especially hated it. You weren’t loving the way you had been looking lately. You felt so uncomfortable in your own skin. It made you apprehensive about the event but if your company made Trent less nervous you were going to be there. You put on a strapless black gown that hugged your figure perfectly but the thickness of the material made it so it wasn’t clinging to your growing stomach. It had a high slit on one side that exposed your thigh and gave a glimpse at the pair of heels you were in. You had gotten your nails done earlier in the week and asked Trent what color to get when you couldn’t decide. He told you he liked when you got a pink you usually wore. You could’ve made that decision on your own but you liked to have his opinion. As he held your hand in the car on the way to the event that night his fingers stroked over your long nails smiling that his opinion mattered to you. As Trent helped you step out of the car you felt the warmth of the camera’s lights. The photographers out front snapped away. Trent kept his hand on the small of your back as you walked towards them. His touch always made you feel more secure. He made you comfortable no matter where you went together but especially in these situations where the media was there to cover your every move. He looked down at you and rubbed his thumb over your back. He dropped his hand off your back and came to grab yours. He squeezed it to let you know he was with you. He really thought you were the one helping him but it couldn’t have been more opposite. He was the only reason you could manage something like this. You just stared up at him in a daze, just completely and utterly obsessed with him. When you were inside, he introduced you to people he knew through football. He kept you close to him. Despite your anxiety, you were naturally very good with people. They were drawn to you. People often described you to be pretty like a doll, like a model or ballerina. Your slicked back bun tonight really reinforced that imagery. You radiated a glow that had men drooling and women envious. Trent always felt really proud to have you by his side at these events. His big brown eyes watched as you spoke. He loved the sound of your saccharine voice as you spoke to the people you just had met while they rapidly fell in love with you. The way you moved and the way you carried yourself was perfection personified. Like the rest of the room, he was completely captivated by you. Trent was transfixed on you the whole night. The Van Clef necklace Trent gave you when he asked you to be his girlfriend laid over your protruding collarbones illuminated. He smiled everytime it caught the light reminding him you were his. You weren’t even sure he knew anyone else was at the event but you. You stood up from your seat to bop to the bathroom quickly. Trent stood up with you worried you weren’t feeling well but you assured you simply only had to pee. Happy you were actually okay he sneakily gave your ass a light slap. You rolled your eyes at his cheek. When you walked into the restroom there were 3 girls all at the mirror touching up their makeup so you just smiled before picking a stall. You were almost finished when you overheard them talking.

“Did you see that Trent Alexander-Arnold is here tonight?” They grabbed your attention immediately. You tried to be quiet to listen a little bit closer.

“Yeah, I think he was with a girl though… is he taken? I honestly don’t follow footie but he’s well fit” One girl responded to the other.

“I’ve been DMing with him. I don’t care. Fucking on the low” You almost audibly gasped. Your mouth hung open. You felt emotions rush behind your eyes. Tears filled your lash line but you blinked a few times trying to focus on listening to what they said next.

“Stop… no fucking way. You are?” One girl squealed at the other’s confession. They were freaking out for their friend while you felt like you were going to be sick.

“In case you were wondering… to no surprise the dick is perfect.” That was it. You felt absolutely broken. You didn’t know if you were going to pass out, get sick, cry, or maybe all three at once. After a while listening to them gush about one girl being Trent’s sneaky link they left the bathroom. You just stayed put. Trent was starting to get worried where you were. Your phone was buzzing uncontrollably with texts from him. You tried to pull yourself together. You stared in the mirror looking at yourself. What the fuck were you meant to do now. You had always worried about what would happen if things ever fell apart but you had kind of thought you had moved past that possibility until this very moment. You stared at the tears rolling down your face pulling your makeup down with them. What were you supposed to do now that you heard he was cheating on you. You were shaking, gripping onto the bathroom counter. Were you supposed to say something? Were you supposed to go back to the US? Were you supposed to raise the growing baby in your stomach on your own? The tears kept falling. You decided you would pull yourself together, tell Trent you're leaving, get home and stay in a guest room until you figured out if you should stay or not. Your heart felt like it was in a million pieces. You wiped the tears from under your eyes and reapplied your lipstick. Taking a few breaths, you walked out the restroom door eyes fixed on the floor trying your very best to keep the tears from flooding back. That plan fell apart almost immediately when you picked your head up and were met with Trent standing in front of you.

“Are you okay, baby? I was so worried.” He cooed, stepping towards you. You held your hands up in protest. Your eyes began to water.

“You were worried?!” You shot back at him. His brow furrowed confused by your tone and the look on your face.

“Is it the baby? Is everything okay?” He was genuinely distressed. He didn't like the look you were giving him but he put it aside for the moment concerned about his future child unknowing of the girls you had just encountered.

“No… it was the girl you’ve been fucking in the bathroom.” You quipped. His face twisted in confusion. Were you kidding? He obviously wasn’t fucking anyone else. He was either with the team or cuddled up to you. He didn’t have any interest in other women and frankly he didn’t have the time to entertain one.

“What the fuck are you on about? I’m not cheating on you.” He batted back at you incredibly confused and incredibly innocent. You only rolled your eyes, not impressed with his response. Trent was fuming but he was more concerned about your current condition. “You’re the love of my life. You’re the mother of my child. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You think I’m that stupid to fuck this up? That someone else would even have a shot with me when I have you?” He spoke sternly but not aggressively. “I barely even know any people here!”

“I don’t know maybe you would, it seems you definitely do know someone. She said you’ve been DMing her.” You muttered out, starting to question the truth of the girl in the bathroom’s words seeing Trent’s confusion.

“I’ll be happpy to show you my fucking DMs but that’s insane baby this isn’t true and you shouldn’t believe that it is. You need to believe me. Who is she… where is she?” You sensed his anger seep into his words as he started to question who the fuck was trying to ruin his happy relationship for in an attempt for some clout.

“I don’t want to see your DMs.” You quivered out starting to cry. You were too tired to deal with this. Too emotional to try to sort through what you were feeling.

“She’s lying. Just wanted attention, beautiful, C’mere.” He pulled you into him. He held you tight. “I love you so fucking much. I didn’t even know there were other women out in the world anymore. Only you.” He laughed a little and you did in response hearing the sweet sound. “I am never going to hurt you. I never would. You’re all mine baby and I’m all yours.” Your heart beat started to slow wrapped in his embrace. You were his from the moment he met you and you should’ve remembered that.

“Can we just go home?” you whispered. The words were tiny and fragile. Trent pouted seeing your tear stained face. His pout turned into a soft frown when he looked down at you.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry, baby. It’s unfair you always have to deal with this shit.” He cooed, keeping you close to him as you walked. You were on your way out when curiosity got the better of Trent. “So… who am I fucking?” You scanned the room and pointed at the women you had seen in the bathroom. “Not even my type.” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You slapped at his chest.

“It’s not funny, T!” You giggled. You knew he felt bad and was using humor to try to lighten the mood. Trent would never cheat on you. You believed him wholeheartedly but when things like this happened it was hard not to feel hurt by hearing girls talk about him like that. He understood but he did nothing but reassure you were the only one. At the end of the day it was you he always came home to. You were his whole world. You were his dream come true.

“You okay?” Trent whispered as you laid on his chest back at home tucked in your bed. His hands rubbing up and down your bareback under a shirt of his you were wearing.

“Right here? Yeah, I am.” You confirmed that you felt safe in his arms. The night didn’t go particularly well but it was all okay now.

“Good, it’s where you’re staying. Not going anywhere, baby.” He whispered as you hid yourself in the nape of his neck. You muttered an ‘okay’ quietly. Trent held you tight to him engulfing you in his embrace. He hoped you could feel how much he loved you in the way he held you. He hoped you could feel it in the way his arms wrapped you like they were always meant to be right there. “I’m yours forever. Forever and ever, all yours” he cooed. You could feel your chest warm as you cuddled a little closer to him. “I mean it, baby. I appreciate you so much, you have no idea. I’m so sorry about tonight. It’s so unfair to you” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in guilt. “I really, really am.” You felt bad that he felt so guilty. He couldn’t control what other people said about him. Sure, tonight was not a fun experience but it wasn’t so bad now back in his arms. You squeezed him tighter letting him know it was okay. “Gonna let go of me tonight?” He laughed at the tightness of your hold.

“No, never.” You giggled only squeezing him more.

“Okay, good” he muffled into your hair with a kiss. You let your senses dull, clinging to him. You absently listened to the rain falling outside comforting you when you were in his steady arms.

“Do you know the baby is the size of a plum now?” You spoke softly to Trent with a quiet giddy giggle. He hummed and pulled your head off his chest and towards him. He pressed his soft lips to yours and you melted. You fell asleep that night not worried about the girl in the bathroom but safe with the boy in your bed.

You sat at Trent’s home match a few days later. You were with Tyler in the seats outside the box. You were freezing. You sniffled brushing your icy red nose. You watched the minutes tick by until the ref blew his whistle for the first half to end. Tyler asked if you wanted anything to drink and you awkwardly declined. He furrowed his brow at you but accepted your answer. You typically drank at matches with Trent’s brothers so it was a little odd. You still hadn’t told either of your families, or literally anyone yet and it was becoming more and more difficult. You scrolled on your instagram when Tyler popped inside. You saw a Liverpool fan account had tagged you in a photo sitting in the stands today. It wasn’t anything new but you started to worry the general public might deduce you were pregnant before you got the chance to tell everyone on your own terms. The game went on and little shivers ran through your body, down your spine, and all you could do was clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. Heavy rain fell onto the pitch without mercy. You were cold just looking at Trent all wet but to his credit, he looked really really good like that. When the game finished Trent came up to the box as always. You stood waiting in one of his hoodies. It was unreasonably soft and you had stolen it about a day after he got it. Trent didn’t mind. He liked to see you in his clothes. You looked so comfy in them pulling the sleeves over your hands almost drowning in the fabric. He came into the box and he looked at you all warm and cozy. He had never wanted to hug you more than he did right now. Seeing you in his clothing sent a tremor of pure warmth through his chest. It started in his heart and spread throughout his entire body. He couldn’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so lovingly. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a kiss. As you left Anfield with him you held his hand walking to the car park. Your anxiety from the instagram post still lingered.

“T… You think I should still come to games when my bump starts to show more?I feel like people are already staring.” You cooed looking up at Trent before he went to unlock the car.

“Nah, baby. Maybe stop being so beautiful and people will stop staring.” He laughed, not taking your question very seriously. You gave him a knowing look. He walked with you to the passenger side to open the door for you. You silently thanked him and got in. “Alright, alright. I get what you’re saying though. We’ll play it by ear. Okay?” He cooed, coming to sit in the driver's seat before throwing his white Goyard wash kit into the back. You hummed and just smiled looking at him, focusing on reversing out of the parking spot. He was so unfairly pretty doing the most mundane things. The sharpness of his jawline, the pout of his lips, the way his eyes glimmered, all wildly unfair. Trent was exhausted when you got home. He laid dramatically on the bed while you massaged his feet mindlessly sitting at the end. You stopped your hands on his foot and began to work up his leg. He groaned in satisfaction feeling your hands on him. Your horniness lately had been hard to control, you just always wanted him to be naked and this moment was no exception. He looked so good and that’s when you found yourself with his cock down your throat.

“Fuck… baby I’m gonna cum.” He groaned out. You didn’t want him to cum like this. You had other plans. So you slowly drew off him and he looked at you wide eyed and desperate. You sat back and proceeded to knead your tits, wrapping them around his cock, Trent’s eyes only widening more. You began your efforts to make him cum all over your tits. You slowly massaged your boobs up and down his cock. Intently squeezing them tightly around him.

“You like fucking my tits, T?” You moaned as you continued working your tits on his pulsating cock.

“Fuck! So so much, baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna let me cum on your perfect tits, baby?” The sight of your boobs engulfing his cock so snug between them erased nearly every thought in his mind

“Cum all over my tits, baby” With that he stilled as he pumped his cum all over you. He moaned out your name repeatedly. Trent’s head fell back and he laid motionless. His chest rising and falling exasperated.

“Jesus, that was so fucking hot” Trent panted. Attempting to regain control of his breath. His tired gaze shifted to a lustful one. He was trying to wrap his head around the image in front of him. You played with the cum on your chest with your fingers swirling it over your nipples before bringing them to your lips. You climbed over top of him watching his cock spring back to life. He pulled you down into a kiss. He rolled you over on the bed to be in top of you. “Where do you want my cum now, baby? Hmm?” He cooed caressing your body. You gave him a mischievous smile with heavy eyelids. God, he fucking loved you. His big brown eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. Your nails dug into his back muscles as he slid inside of you. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He rocked into you. Trent’s cock stretched you deliciously hitting the spot only he knew. The squelching sound of your skin slapping against each other.

“You look so fucking good carrying my child, baby.” He grunted looking down at your perfect body. “Gonna fill you up. Fill my pussy up with my cum again.” You felt the knot in your stomach about to snap when Trent guided his hand down between your bodies and seamlessly rubbed tight circles on your clit. You moaned out in pleasure.

“There you go, baby. Cum f’me. Make a fucking mess on my cock.” He commanded you. Only he could make you feel this good. He continued to thrust into you relentlessly when you began to tremble underneath him. “Just like that. There you go.” Your pussy dripping all over him just the way he loved. It wasn’t long before he was close to his own release. You had the boy totally whipped, he was obsessed with you and your pussy. He presses his body weight down on you. He buried grunts into your neck before he moved his face closer to yours pulling you in for a messy kiss. Suddenly all at once he came inside you. His cock pulsed, his cum spilling inside of you in thick ropes, he could barely breathe as your pussy squeezed around him more. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts before you both stilled.

“I love you so much.” You panted out of breath before you both went quiet for a little absolutely exhausted. Trent laid down next to you and pulled your limp body back into his. He peppered kisses onto your hair. You cuddled up to him so comfortable, so full, so tired. “My baby” you murmured softly against his skin. You kissed his bare chest. “My sweet, sweet baby.” Trent was so vulnerable with you. He was often so tough and guarded but he loved when you called him things like that. He was more sensitive around you then he led on, you made him soft. He held you tighter, rubbing his hand over your stomach.

“That I am. All yours.” He cooed with a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes fixed on your stomach. “Our little plum.” He giggled and you pouted at how cute it was. You felt yourself starting to drift off, lulled by the warmth of your bodies, the sound of his slowing heartbeat, and the love you felt. “Get a good sleep, beautiful. I have a surprise for you tomorrow…”

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 2 xx

[literaila]

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

*

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market. 

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are. 

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts. 

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace. 

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps. 

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit. 

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain. 

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone. 

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly. 

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face. 

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine. 

it might even be great. 

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak. 

you should probably go. 

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat. 

it always comes back. 

why is he here? 

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him. 

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth. 

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you. 

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order. 

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him. 

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning. 

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you." 

i didn't mean to. 

and yet. 

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all. 

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things. 

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head. 

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late. 

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not. 

it's really not. 

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?" 

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough. 

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into. 

you step away from him, still shaking your head. 

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go." 

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back. 

it wouldn't be the first time. 

*

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone. 

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich. 

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day. 

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them. 

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable. 

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous. 

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise. 

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte. 

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule. 

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it. 

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away. 

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve. 

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?” 

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.” 

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.” 

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.” 

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.” 

“i’m honored.” 

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.” 

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here. 

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it. 

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there. 

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it. 

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color? 

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter. 

except that he’s completely different. 

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?” 

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?” 

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.” 

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else. 

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you. 

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat. 

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.” 

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk. 

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there. 

peter doesn’t take this hint. 

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?” 

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault. 

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?” 

“yes.” 

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink. 

“thank you.” 

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave. 

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.” 

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh. 

and neither do you. 

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?” 

“he sold me the shop a year ago.” 

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.” 

“thank you.” 

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this. 

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips. 

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.” 

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.” 

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it. 

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.” 

and then peter swallows. you blink at him. 

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back. 

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic. 

*

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager. 

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter. 

"about peter." 

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously. 

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?" 

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant." 

"do i?" 

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes. 

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway. 

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier." 

"yeah? how is she?" 

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him." 

"yeah..." 

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers. 

"have you seen him?" 

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday." 

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?" 

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left." 

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?" 

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him." 

"nothing else?" 

"he said it was nice to see me." 

she waves a hand at you. 

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all." 

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine. 

it's like talking to a counselor. 

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime." 

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?" 

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again? 

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it. 

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone. 

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all. 

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it. 

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?" 

"is he here for the holidays?" 

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess." 

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you. 

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing. 

"what?" 

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge." 

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you. 

even ask the words sink in. 

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'" 

you push her and put the milk in the fridge. 

*

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin. 

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back. 

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe. 

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours. 

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson. 

but peter hasn't learned anything. 

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me." 

"okay." 

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors. 

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..." 

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something. 

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty. 

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him. 

your mom's words ring out in your head. 

it might be good to talk to him. 

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you." 

"you want to talk to me?" 

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?" 

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore. 

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street. 

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault. 

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes. 

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same. 

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again. 

"where's your coat?" 

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets." 

you nod, slowly. 

peter nods back. 

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze. 

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow. 

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him. 

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases." 

"okay. thank you." 

you nod, one last time, and look away from him. 

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely. 

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all. 

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say. 

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this. 

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother. 

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance. 

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense? 

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you. 

[lace-coffin]

Slasher autism headcanons

Requests are open!

is this just me projecting onto other slashers? Absolutely! It’s like the spider man pointing at eachother meme but it’s just me and slashers both having autism 😌

Tw: slight mentions of meltdowns and self injuring stims

Billy Lenz

*slaps him like the hood of a car* “do you know how much autism you can fit in here?”

Billy struggles with loud noises especially repetitive ones. He often holds the phone far away from his ear when calling the sorority because he can’t stand the call tone. please get him some headphones or ear defenders

Despite this he enjoys making a lot of noise through vocal stimming/echolalia, picking up on words or phrases he hears from you or the others at the sorority. He usually has a record playing to keep him from getting under-stimulated, though this can be a delicate balance because sometimes it helps and sometimes it’s too much and annoys him.

Billy is hyper verbal (this may be more of an adhd thing I’m unsure) he has so many thoughts he needs to voice to the point where it feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get them out audibly. He does struggle knowing when it’s his turn to talk though so he may accidentally talk over you.

Billy tends to get along with animals better, connecting to them just feels easier and more natural. He loves to hang out with Claude and rub his face against his fur.

Billy often throws and breaks things during meltdowns, doing it in the heat of the moment and regretting it later if it was something he cared about. Please reassure him it’s not his fault and help him clean it up/ fix it when he feels ready to be around people again.

May not be purely and autism thing but affection bites for sure

Bubba sawyer

Bubba stims in a lot of ways. Flapping his hands in excitement and doing little dances. I think She would play with the charms on her bracelet she took from Pam when they don’t feel safe to openly stim, say he’s in public somewhere he’s not familiar with or dealing with victims.

They have a habit of hitting their head with their fists during meltdowns and pacing (as seen in the og movie when she’s upset about the victims breaking in when no one’s home)

Bubba is also hyper empathetic, other peoples emotions have a big effect on them, sometimes making it hard to settle when their family is distraught.

Non verbal- speaking feels unnatural and straining for her, her family have never pushed him to talk since it’s clear it’s uncomfortable so she’s happy to communicate via noises and body language. Communication cards may be helpful for when more complex answers are needed.

Loud noises aren’t really a problem for her since he’s running around with a loud ass chainsaw all day but it can become grating after a long day if they’re overstimulated already, they’ll push through it and get the task done but he’ll need some time alone in his room to recuperate after.

Doesn’t leave the house super often, they’re much comfier to be home around people they know. She does occasionally go shopping with Drayton and their siblings but it’s very taxing on her because of all the stimuli so it’s not super often.

Michael Myers

I think he’d have a very specific pallet, not liking inconsistencies in its foods and preferring to stick to the stuff it knows it likes. he has such a sweet tooth and eats a bunch of candy. It likes the texture differences in different kinds of sweets, jelly is a particularly good one. Mikey eats a lot of grilled cheese to, it’s mum used to make it for him a lot as a kid and it’s a staple safe food for him. He likes his food bland and beige (me to mikey)

Very specific about his clothing, labels are an absolute no go and need to be cut out. He only likes to wear one brand of coveralls because they’re the only ones it feels sits right without making him want to crawl out of his skin. So basically its wardrobe is just a bunch of the same brand coveralls. (Like SpongeBob with his identical wardrobe lol)

Non verbal through choice, mikey can talk but finds it uncomfortable to do so it usually doesn’t. If he really needs to get something across that he can’t then it’ll use sign.

Low empathy, Michael feels empathy for people close to him like his mother or you but not for others. He doesn’t really understand why he should care about people unimportant to him.

It’s part of Michael’s routine for you to go to bed together at the same time, it gets gradually more antsy the longer you stay up over bedtime. Eventually if he deems what you’re doing not worthy of staying up for he’ll just pull you away from it and carry you to bed. It also sleeps in a specific position, he has the whole bed to sleep in but prefers to curl up in the same way he did back at smiths grove, apart from there he didn’t have a choice. If you’re asleep and splayed out Michael would rather sleep on the sofa so he can be in its comfy position. He also probably won’t touch you if your wearing pyjamas with a bad texture, brushed cotton is a no and he won’t be cuddling you unless you’re in a safe textured set.

Doesn’t like eye contact much, he feels more comfortable in looking at peoples face if it’s wearing a mask, it’s less intimate and awkward.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms can go from very clingy to not wanting to be touched very quickly. He adores being attached to you anyway he can, like cuddling you from behind when cooking or wrapping himself around you in bed. Despite this Brahms can get overwhelmed with touch sometimes, the feeling of ‘to much’ buzzing under his skin. If this is the case then he’ll likely need time to himself back in the walls.

Brahms likes everything to be on schedule and to follow the rules. Like we see in the movies he gets upset when his rules are ignored since it throws of his routine and schedule. If you need to do anything extra or take something off the schedule please let him know in advance so he has time to process it.

Low empathy but only for people not super close to him. He understands how he’s expected to react socially to peoples problems/pain and can show it through masking but it’s purely because he thinks it’s what he has to do.

The walls are a safe space for him. His room was the place he felt calmest after what happened with his parents, its decorated to his taste and dimly lit as not to hurt his eyes. His room has everything he needs within close distance so if he’s feeling low on spoons then the fridge is only a few steps away. Plenty of blankets for pressure/burying himself into.

Also we can’t ignore the fact he literally masks with his porcelain doll mask lol

I think Brahms would use to much eye contact as opposed to none, he was taught it was polite in his lessons as a boy and took it slightly to literally. He loves to stare at you affectionately < 3

Asa emory

Special interest in bugs and entomology! I headcanon that he mostly became a professor so he can info dump about his special interests all day to his hearts content. He can get frustrated quickly if he feels he’s not being listened to.

(Ignoring the shitty enclosures in the collector bc I say so) I think proper husbandry would be important to him, he researches for days before he feels comfortable setting up a home for his specimens. If he’s feeling overwhelmed he likes to sit with his bug enclosures, watching over them and rocking himself.

Asa connects to his bugs more, finding them easier to understand , bugs tend to have more readable body language so it’s easier to tell when they want to be left alone without pressing to far. A person may say they’re not upset but are only hiding it to be polite. A tarantula will bare its fangs and let you know when it’s had enough.

Asa is very precise in his traps, planning them thoroughly before assembling, however he can get overwhelmed and upset say if a wire snaps repeatedly or the trap won’t work as it’s supposed to. He can feel himself boiling over and will abruptly stand from him chair, taking himself over to his bug collection to distract himself and hopefully avoid a meltdown.

[swissboyhisch]

New York Luck

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Reader

Summary: After a lovely holiday, your partner breaks up with you and so you turn to your only friend in the city.

Word Count: 1055

A/N: I'm not super happy with this. I feel like it's rushed but I want to put it out anyway.

<< PREVIOUS

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Why is it that every time you come to New York, something bad happens. The last time you had gotten your shitty diagnosis. This time your current boyfriend and yourself had decided to go on a holiday to Hawaii for a week and of course, an hour after landing back in New York he decided to break your heart.

Something about not being ready for a relationship. Apparently. And here you were ready to tell him I love you on your holiday but held back because he was a little distant at night. That’s why you’re now standing in a Walmart; wearing a pair of sunglasses trying to find food.

Sadly you can’t even go home. In three days you have to have another surgery. A different one to the last time you were in New York. Now you’re stuck in the city, alone and crying your eyes out. Dealing with health issues and a break up. What a great combo. And to make things worse, you can’t even drink away your emotions!

Aisle by aisle, you grab chocolate, some cupcakes, cheese and crackers, a bit of everything. Oh and a bottle of coke, can’t forget it. That’s when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You turned to where the voice came from. 

“Mat?”

One of the few people you knew in the city. Mat wasn’t a stranger to you. Quite the opposite actually. The pair of you grew up together then reconnected later on once he had been drafted. After a couple hook ups since the reunion, you two were close when you did meet up.

“Are you okay?” Mat questions, spying your reddened cheeks just under your glasses. 

“I uh… Yeah,” You tried to brush it off. Discreetly wiping the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks. “Just some personal stuff.”

The hockey player wasn’t buying it. He had known you long enough to see through your lies. Even if they were really bad like the one you just told. “Okay, what’s up? I know that’s a lie. You were literally just in Hawaii.”

“Stalking my insta?” You joke weakly.

“Gotta see what my favourite girl is up to.”

That made your heart hurt more. Here Mat was calling you that where as your ex could barely call you his girlfriend in front of his friends. God, you thought your relationship was great. Fuck. How could you be so blind. 

“Yeah we got back this morning and then he broke up with me an hour after we landed.”

Mat immediately brought you in for a hug. “Shit. He’s an asshole for that.”

“Doesn’t help I have surgery friday,” You add, sniffling.

“Another one?” Mat sighs. “He’s a coward for breaking up with you before that. It’s a dick move.”

You shrug off the comment. “I’d rather him do it now then drag it out. Now I can just focus on myself. Gonna get snacks and have a night in my hotel. Maybe get ice cream from the place next door.”

“Can I join?” Mat asked. 

“Are you sure?”

Matt agreed and the two of you finished grabbing snacks for the night and finished Mat’s shopping. He brought groceries for his apartment so the two created a plan. First, drop off Mat’s groceries to his apartment. Then head to your hotel to have a chill night. 

You two arrived back at your hotel, which was quite a fancy one since you and your partner had planned to stay there together. First, before retreating to your bedroom, you stopped by the ice cream place and got way too much. Enough that Mat’s nutritionist would cry at the thought of the hockey player consuming all that sugar. 

“This is nice.” The two of you walked into the nice hotel room. A modern style hotel room on the 9th floor. A king sized bed in the middle with the bathroom off to the left as you walked in. There was even a window with a blind in the shower. “Have you stayed here before?”

“Yeah, my ex worked nearby so I’d stay when I’d come to visit him,” You respond.

Mat grabbed the bag of snacks and put that on the counter, wrapped you in a hug and dragged you onto the bed. The smell of his cologne filled your senses. Despite your old hook up ways with Mat, the familiar scent still gave you butterflies.

“I wanna have a shower and get into my pyjamas,” You sighed, pulling away from Mat. You grabbed some clothes and went to go to the bathroom when a sulking sound came from the boy laying on your bed. When you looked at him, he was pulling the puppy's eyes. “What? Do you wanna join?”

“Please?” You giggled and agreed, leaving him to join you when he wished. “Thank youuuu!”

The bathroom was really modern. A large mirror in front of the sink and a huge shower with a rainfall head. Your favourite type of shower. After turning on the water to your preferred temperature, you stripped and got into the shower. The water felt calming as you stood under the stream. 

“Heya,” Mat mutters as he slips into the shower. 

You leaned into the hockey player as he wrapped his arms around you. This wasn’t the first time you had showered with him. But let’s just say usually, a simple shower wasn’t just that. 

“Are you okay?” Mat asks as you’re unusually quiet around him. That question just makes you break. A flood of emotions coming through. Mat was quick to pull you closer, tight against his naked body as you started to sob. “He’s an idiot.”

“What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing. I promise you it’s him. He’s the worst person for doing this to you. He’s the problem.”

Once you had calmed down and the two of you had finished washing, you changed into your pyjamas and cuddled up on bed with a ton of snacks surrounding the pair of you. Mat had signed into his Disney. You allowed him to pick what the two of you would watch for the night. When you saw the intro it solidified the hidden feeling for him. It was your favourite show.

“Thanks for this,” You mutter to Mat.

The brunette kissed the top of your head. “Always.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

[roseofdarknessblog]

Taking chances (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 4 540

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: A year after the Rumbling, Levi finally has the chance to open the tea shop he always wanted. But due to his lasting health issues, he doesn't think it's a good idea.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Taking chances

„Thank you so much, have a lovely day,“ you said and smiled at the elder lady, who handed you a piece of cheese wrapped in brown waxed paper. She already knew both you and Levi because her amazing selection of cheeses made you come back to her little stall every single time. „Here, you can cross off another item from the shopping list.“

„It's still ridiculously long,“ Levi muttered, taking the cheese from your hands and putting it in your favorite wicker basket you loved taking to the farmers market. When he came with you, he always kept it in his lap while your shopping list was in his hand with a pencil he used to check off the things you've already bought. „Do we really need all of this?“

„How do you expect me to cook if we don't have food at home?“ you teased him lovingly, before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. When he was sitting in his wheelchair, he simply had to put up with this cute little habit of yours.

While he wasn't a huge fan of PDA, you loved showing him love and affection anytime and anywhere. But only if it didn't make him feel too uncomfortable. After all, with a husband so handsome and charming, you simply couldn't help it. You wanted the whole world to know just how much you loved him.

Even more, because he didn't think of himself as handsome and charming.

„Right, you need lots of things because you keep messing up,“ he teased you, looking over his shoulder to see your reaction.

„Oh, stop that! I'm getting better at cooking and baking. Just ask Onyankopon, he's very proud of my progress.“

During your life in the Survey Corps, you never had time to learn your way around the kitchen. Cooking and baking were foreign territory to you, so now you had to learn almost everything. All you could do by yourself were the most basic things. But Onyankopon was so nice that he agreed to teach you. While on Paradis, he never mentioned just how great of a cook he was, so it was a huge surprise for both you and Levi.

He used to come over whenever he had some time, commanding you around in your small kitchen. With all the patience in the world, he explained everything and helped you prepare many delicious sweet, and savory dishes. The bad thing was, that they almost always turned out good solely when he was there. When you tried doing some of them alone... the kitchen ended up looking like a battlefield and the food was questionable.

„And hey, if you don't like my cooking, how about you take over? I'll gladly stand by and comment on everything like you always do it to me.“

„Not that I would be standing around...“

You chuckled when he tilted his head back and looked at you. It was such a shitty thing to say, that only Levi would do it and make fun of himself. And to be honest, he didn't do it often. Only on very rare occasions, which came once in a blue moon.

„The point is, I'm making progress. Soon I'll be the better cook of the two of us.“

„Yeah, only in your dreams. Learning how to prepare tea the way I like it took you almost two decades,“ he scoffed.

Sometimes it really made you upset. The fact, that your husband, who was missing an eye, two fingers and had trouble standing or walking without aid, was a better cook than you. It seemed that he knew his way around the kitchen naturally, while you felt like a fish on the shore – disoriented and full of panic. While Levi handled everything with grace, you were a walking disaster.

„The funny thing is that you hated cooking in the past. In the Underground... you hated that shitty little kitchen we had.“

He nodded slowly. „That's why Furlan was the one in charge.“

You smiled upon hearing his name. It's been so many years since he, Isabel, Levi and you lived together under the Capital of Paradis. Despite that, you still remembered the day the three of them left and you stayed behind. It took Levi almost a year until he came back for you – after Furlan and Isabel passed away during their first expedition beyond the Walls. Since then, it was only you and Levi. Through thick and thin, leading the Survey Corps by Erwin and Hange's side, and surviving the Rumbling, which wiped out 80% of the population.

It was a true miracle, that you two were still alive and now living a completely different life after so many years of fighting for the sake of humanity.

The Rumbling happened more than a year ago and since then... well, countless things changed. For the better and for the worse. Leaving Paradis behind, managing Levi's health, getting used to so many new things in the outside world, getting engaged and married just half a year later... Too many things were completely different from a year ago.

Both of you were still suffering and recovering at the same time. While you only mentally, Levi was still dealing with a lot of pain and discomfort. On top of all the mental health issues, he had to face himself as well. Nightmares kept coming and going for the both of you, while your own anxiety was sometimes threatening to suffocate you. Although it wasn't as bad as before, when you weren't even able to walk down the street due to the fear of the new place and people, you were still having a hard time with many things.

Healing was simply taking... too much time. At least that's how you saw it. Yes, you got to survive and have a future, but this still wasn't the life you so desperately wanted. Not for you and not for Levi. His disabilities... hurt you in a way you had no idea you could hurt. Ever. It was a brand new kind of pain you didn't know even existed before. It was coming from your own inability to help him be the man he was before. The man he wanted to be again.

„You okay?“ Levi asked after a long moment of silence, as you were making your way through the farmers market of the little seaside town you were living in now. Early Wednesday mornings were the best time to come – many great deals that would be available throughout the whole day, but still just a few people.

Everything looked very pretty and calming in the soft morning lights. All the colors of everything you laid your eyes on. The sellers were nice and friendly, many of them already knowing who you and Levi were. Some of them liked to chat with you a little every time you came here, others simply said hello and gave you a bright smile. It looked like... it looked like they were truly grateful, that thanks to you and your comrades, they still have all of this – their homes, jobs, families, friends, and their lives.

But despite being grateful and happy, that you found such a nice place to live, sometimes it got too much. All the noises from the people, who were watching you and who knew your identity. Sometimes... it simply didn't feel right to you.

Forcing your lungs to take a long and deep breath was suddenly too hard. You could feel the familiar uneasiness rise inside your chest, making it feel uncomfortably tight. „Yeah, yeah... just got a little lost in my thoughts. I'm fine.“

„Don't go down the rabbit hole again.“ You nodded even if Levi couldn't see you. He was right, tho. Getting drowned in your own memories and worries would only end up in falling back into depression once again. And avoiding that was your main goal every single day. You didn't spend so many years fighting to be killed by your own mind when the war was finally over. „Focus on what we need to get next,“ he said in a calm tone. „Breathe and try to stay in this moment with me.“

You tried taking a deep breath again, succeeding this time, as you continued walking forward, pushing Levi's wheelchair in front of you. For a moment, you stopped looking around and kept your eyes on the top of his head in front of you, focusing on breathing as calmly as possible. „Okay, what else do we need? You have the shopping list.“ Keeping your body busy and mind distracted by the truly important things was the key. Your past didn't need you, but the present moment did. And with it, Levi needed you as well.

And after all... nothing was happening at that moment. Nothing. Everything was completely okay. You were safe, had your husband close and together you were doing one of the most mundane tasks of an ordinary life. All you had to do, was keep yourself grounded and slow down your racing heart, that was freaking out for no logical reason.

Levi looked at you for a moment and after you gave him a reassuring smile, he started reading all the things you wanted to buy – onions, peppers, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, rice, bread, eggs, apples, and cherries. You nodded at every word he said, slowly letting go of your memories once again and focusing on shopping.

You kept your mind busy by looking at the different stalls once again, taking in every little detail that caught your eye. All the vegetables, fruits, spices, and many more things needed for the kitchen, or other parts of the household. You focused on how the sellers arranged their products, on the prices written on little blackboards, or on the fresh flower decorations some of them had put on. You took in the whole atmosphere of the market, letting it pull you back into reality.

Within the next hour, you got everything you needed and also a little something that was not part of your shopping list. You simply couldn't say no to a couple of incredibly smelling herb bars of soap and to a nice straw hat with a yellow ribbon. Your last stop was a little stall, where a young man was selling different kinds of teas or homemade fruit juices. Without a doubt, this stall was Levi's favorite and you had to make a stop every single time and get at least one thing. So by the time you were truly done shopping, the basket in Levi's lap was almost completely full.

„Ready to head back home? It's about time we eat some breakfast.“ your husband asked, while you were pushing his wheelchair away from the farmers market.

„Not quite yet,“ you said, smirking a little for yourself.

„What? Why not?“ He sounded a little annoyed, but when you didn't say anything else, he decided not to ask and simply trust you. The additional journey you were making was just a short one. Your surprise stop was just a few doors down the street you lived on.

When you stopped in front of a small and empty shop next to a toy store, which was very popular with all the kids in the town, Levi looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows. You smiled at him, squeezing his left shoulder lovingly.

„What the hell are you smiling about?“ he asked, placing his hand on top of yours, his warm skin coming in contact with the cold metal of your wedding band. It was simple but held so many beautiful memories. Your wedding was small, but all the more precious and simply perfect. The calm and warm atmosphere, that your closest friends helped to create, was exactly what you were looking for – on your wedding day and in your marriage as well.

„Onyankopon said, that there used to be a caffé. It closed down around the same time we moved here,“ you stood next to him and started explaining, your voice calm but with a tiny hint of excitement. „It's for sale now and it seems nobody is really interested.“

„And?“ Levi asked, still not understanding why you were telling him all this.

You took one last deep breath, fairly afraid to continue. „What if we bought it?“

He furrowed his brows even more, pulling his hand back and putting it around the basket in his lap. It seemed that he had a truly hard time finding the right words for your offer.

„Are you out of your mind? What the hell would we do with a place like this?“ he spoke finally, his voice surprisingly cold and flat.

„We could open that tea shop you always wanted,“ you said quietly, locking eyes with him, when he looked in your direction again, his hand once again finding yours. His confused expression seemed almost too cute. „I mean... we still have some money left and... well...“

„Spit it out!“ he commanded, his grip on your hand getting stronger.

„I went to the Town Hall and asked around about this place. They said that if we wanted to open our own business of any kind, the town would lend us money, to help us set everything up and actually start earning. Eventually, we'll have to pay it back, obviously.“

Despite this little risk, it still seemed like an amazing opportunity. You knew how much Levi wanted his own tea shop. It was his dream for many years and now it was finally close enough to grab and turn into reality.

„What do you think?“ you asked him when he didn't react to your previous words. Sadly, everything was written all over his face, which became blank and almost sad.

„I don't think it's a good idea, Y/N. Not when I'm like this,“ he said almost too quietly, letting go of your hand.

You immediately shook your head. „Hey, hey... listen, don't talk like that!“ Even if he tried his best to adjust to the new reality, you knew Levi was suffering every single day. He wasn't able to find peace with how things turned out for him. Not even after a whole year, was he truly content with his disabilities. Not after being active throughout his whole life and being known as Humanity's strongest soldier.

When it came to walking, he was able to do it – with the help of his cane or while you were holding one of his arms, to help him with stability. But bearing his own weight for a longer time was simply too much for his left knee. Walking and standing caused him excruciating pain almost every single time, so he really had no other option except to use his wheelchair.

That fact alone wasn't even what made him so angry. It was the reality of appearing weak and vulnerable. Something he was never used to. Not, when during your time with the Scouts he was always the one people relied on. He was a living and breathing legend everybody knew about – people from all branches of the military and civilians as well.

„We would manage. I know we would, darling,“ you said, interlocking your fingers again and lovingly kissing the top of his head. „We need something to do. Something that will give our lives a new meaning. Something that will keep us busy.“ Money was always needed, but it wasn't the main reason now. All you wanted, was something that would help you and Levi heal further. Something, that would help you find a new purpose.

Levi shook his head without looking at you. To be honest, you weren't expecting a reaction like this. Wide smiles and loud cheers weren't his thing either but.... you truly felt disappointed in the lack of interest he showed. The lack of will to turn his dream into reality.

„Levi, having a place like this has always been your dream and...“

„Enough, let's go home,“ he hissed through gritted teeth, looking down the almost empty street, which was illuminated by the warm sunlight. It looked like today was going to be another beautiful summer day.

„But...“

„I said enough!“ he repeated himself a bit louder, his right hand, which was missing two fingers, curling into a fist. „Let's go home.“ You could hear the pain in the tone of his voice, but you did obey this time. With one last look at the empty shop, you took hold of his wheelchair once again and started walking towards your little apartment on the ground floor, which was just a few minutes away.

The day went by rather quickly. Maybe because you spent half of it in the kitchen. You managed to prepare a pretty good pasta salad and your cherry pie also turned out edible. A little sour because of the cherries and the lack of sugar, but you liked it anyway. It was probably one of the best things you've ever baked.

„May I come in?“ you asked after knocking on the bedroom door. Levi spent the whole day inside, reading and trying to appear busy, so he didn't have to talk to you. He barely even said anything while you were eating together.

When he stayed quiet, you rested your forehead against the door with a silent sigh. Communication was the most important thing in every single relationship. Romantic or not. And while both you and Levi knew it, sometimes it was simply too hard to sit down and open up about what was troubling you.

„Darling...“ you said quietly, keeping your hand on the door handle. „I'm really sorry if I made you feel upset or angry with that idea. That wasn't my intention at all.“

Some days it was very hard to find the right words. Hurting him or making him feel sad was the last thing you wanted. That's why sometimes it was better to stay quiet and simply wait it out. Give him the space to grieve the past, present, and future.

„I'll go make something for dinner, then. What would you like?“ you asked after another moment of painful silence. It seemed, that backing down was the smartest move to do.

But just before you walked away, you heard Levi's voice from behind the door. He said your name quietly, maybe hoping that you had already left. That's why you waited for a second and only then slowly opened the door. You found your husband sitting on the edge of the bed, a closed book put down next to him.

„Can we talk?“ you asked, not sure about what was going through his head when he looked up at you. His face seemed much more tired than in the morning, even though last night was full of nightmares. For the both of you, unfortunately.

For the past few nights, you weren't able to escape one of the worst memories of your life – leaving Hange behind, while they held up Eren's Titans. Having Hange in your life felt almost natural since the very first day you spent aboveground. They were simply always there, for you and for others. Accepting their fate felt as if somebody was ripping your heart out of your chest, while you were screaming and begging them to stop torturing you.

„Look, I'm sorry about the way I reacted earlier,“ Levi said, gripping the edge of the bed with one of his hands. It almost seemed that looking up and into your eyes took all his energy. „I know you only meant well. You always do.“

With a loving smile on your lips, you came to sit down next to him. „I thought you would be excited at least a little bit,“ you admitted, very carefully inching your hand closer to his. Any kind of physical contact was a hit or miss in these kinds of situations so you always tried to be as careful as possible. „Did it scare you? The possibility of truly turning your dream into reality?“

„It made me feel upset... angry, even.“

„Why?“

He took a deep breath, searching for the best words to use so you would understand his inner conflict over this whole situation. „How am I supposed to run my own business like this?“ The way he looked over at his left leg broke your heart. The tone of his voice was so cold and angry. So disappointed.

„You know more than well, that I would have your back. It would be our responsibility, not solely yours, Levi,“ you tried explaining, while the tips of your fingers brushed against his skin. When he didn't pull his hand away, you very gently grabbed it. „I know it's difficult, I really do. I try to understand the best I can. And you know that I support you in everything. But... not now. You're going to regret it, if we don't buy that empty store and put in all the work, to make your dream come true.“

Levi closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, his body tiredly leaning against yours. He pulled his hand from your grip so he could wrap his arm around your waist to keep you close. Confused, you leaned your head against his, waiting for him to say or do something.

„I'm beyond blessed to have you by my side after all the shit we went through. Sometimes... I still think it's a dream. I think about how I'm going to wake up back in the Scout's HQ with your death report on my desk.“

„Levi...“ You felt a lump form in your throat upon hearing his broken voice. You had a few close calls with death, but you always pulled through, thankfully.

„And when I finally realize, that we made it out of that hell alive, I feel like... like I'm not allowed to ask or wish for anything else.“ His grip around your waist tightened a little, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. „I have you, we're married and we have a fairly nice roof over our heads. Why should I ask for anything else?“

You swallowed hard, battling with your emotions, as your right hand started rubbing his back comfortingly. „Because you can. And you really should, you deserve it. Every good thing this world has to offer because you were the one, who sacrificed the most to save humanity.“

„No, you don't get it...“

„I think I do,“ you interrupted him. „And I don't agree with you. Most people in your place would be selfish and take everything that was offered to them. Every single thing, without thinking about it for more than a few seconds. They would take every chance to do something for themselves to feel good and happy. To put their wants and dreams before everything else.“

„I'm not most people.“

„I know, but I think that right now, you should try being like them. For this one thing, you always wanted so much.“ You could tell he didn't like the tone in which you were talking to him, but you kept on going. All you wanted, was for him to be happy and have everything he ever wanted. Absolutely everything. „If you're scared about looking selfish or anything similar, you don't have to. I want this too, Levi. For us. Owning and running such a place will help us heal even more and that's what we want, right?“

When he took a deep breath but didn't actually say anything, you knew you hit a very sensitive spot. Unfortunately, this was how healing looked like for you and Levi. Constantly getting uncomfortable and being forced to face your darkest and most painful emotions and thoughts. Admitting, that you simply weren't the same people as last year. Accepting, that this was your reality, your life.

„I know it hurts, Levi. I know it, I see the suffering in your eyes every single day, even if I sometimes don't say anything. But if we don't force ourselves to...“

„I can't fucking walk!“ he screamed out, putting all of his anger and frustration into those four words. You could feel his whole body shake a little, while he was still leaning against you, his breathing becoming a bit heavier.

„I know,“ you said almost inaudibly, your hand traveling from his back to the back of his head. While you could feel your eyes filling up with tears, you tried staying as calm as possible, letting your fingers run through his silky soft hair.

What broke your will to stay strong, was when you noticed that Levi was crying. Tears were running down his cheeks, his lips pressed into a thin line so as to not let out a single sound. Since the Rumbling, you have seen and heard him cry more times than throughout your entire time together. And despite that, you still felt unimaginable pain, when tears rolled down his cheeks again.

„We promised each other that we'll be happy,“ you said after a minute, pressing a kiss into his hair. „And opening that tea shop is one huge step closer to that happiness. It will work out, I know it will. I'm sure.“ No, you weren't. But you had to lie to yourself and him, to keep your true emotions in check. „You don't have to give me an answer right now, just promise me that you'll think about it.“

Very gently, you pulled away from him and held his face in your warm hands. Your thumbs wiped away every single tear, while you forced your lips to form a smile. Seeing him so broken and sad was the worst possible punishment for a loving wife like you. For someone, who was with Levi since before he joined the Scouts. He suffered a horrible amount of pain throughout the years, and yet nothing broke him like this. Nothing left him feeling so powerless.

„You are still you, Levi,“ you whispered, pressing your lips to his forehead. Keeping your own tears from rolling down your cheeks was becoming harder and harder, almost impossible by the time you pulled away. „And I really hope you'll let yourself be truly happy one day.“

„Nothing will ever make me happier than having you by my side,“ he said, when you wiped away the last of his tears, before leaning in for a sweet long kiss. Your foreheads ended up resting against each other, as Levi kept his eyes closed, focusing on calming down his own emotions, taking slow deep breaths alongside you. „Thank you for giving me this opportunity.“

„You know I'll do anything for you. Anything.“ In the past, you killed for this man. You killed Titans and humans to keep him alive. And if it came down to it, you would do it again. Without any hesitation.

When silence fell over the bedroom, you knew the discussion was over. At least for today. When Levi wrapped his arms around you and when he hid his face in the crook of your neck, you finally let some of your tears fall. Holding him tight as he started crying silently once again, you hoped with your whole heart, that today was another step forward and closer to happiness.

[apuckishwit]

"Sorry! I only speak English."

Steddie

"Sorry! I only speak English." Eddie offers what he hopes is an appropriately apologetic smile, holding his city map a little higher and offering it to the thoroughly unimpressed-looking cashier in the little shop he'd ducked into. "Train station?" he asks, racking his brain for any of the helpful phrases Gareth had tried drilling into him before the guys let him go wandering alone. "See-voo-play? Train? Uh, ho-hotel de...uh, fuck, Grand Vista Hotel?"

If he can get back to the rail station, he knows he'll be able to make it back to the hotel. The cashier tilts her head, now looking a little insulted as well as unimpressed and FUCK. It had seemed like such a romantic idea, exploring the French countryside by himself for a couple days before the show. He's been working on a few ballads for their next album...looking for ways to keep their sound fresh, keep their fans on their toes...and this had seemed like the perfect opportunity to get some inspiration. Quiet his head a little, get into a writing mood.

Only now he is lost as shit in this quaint city where there are hardly any signs in English and everybody seems to only speak French and he's supposed to be back in Paris TONIGHT and he has no idea how to fucking get there. And like, yes, he's very aware that he's living up to some very bad American stereotypes right now, but Gareth will actually kill him if he fucks this opportunity up for them (they're in motherfucking PARIS, opening for a motherfucking HUGE music festival...this is big for them) and he's frustrated enough that he thinks he might actually start crying and what is he going to DO???

"Hey man, you need some help?"

He is so startled by the thoroughly American voice behind him that he whips around, fast enough that he dislodges the baseball cap he's tucked his hair up into. He barely catches it before it goes flying, dropping his map in the process.

"Shit, sorry, let me..." The stranger shifts his basket of charmingly-wrapped cheese and wine bottles to his other arm and crouches down, gathering up the map. He looks up at Eddie as he holds it out to him and all Eddie can think is that there is a great deal he would give up in the world if he could have this vision on his knees in front of him every night.

The guy is fucking beautiful. Eddie can feel song lyrics bubbling up inside of him--an ode to those perfect lips, that creamy, mole-dotted skin, the way his jeans stretch enticingly over the muscles of his thighs as he stands, still holding the map out. Eddie's staring, but he can't help it. He takes the map in a daze. The guy cocks an eyebrow.

"Didn't mean to scare you, you just sounded like you needed help." He turns towards the cashier with a bright, charming smile, placing his purchases on the counter and starts speaking with her in what sounds like damn near perfect French. Eddie swallows hard at the lilting, beautiful language in that voice. Fuck. He guesses he has a language kink now. Who knew?

"Um, I do! Need help, that is," he blurts after the stranger has completed his transaction, whipping out a black AmEx card like it's nothing. "I need to get back to Paris tonight, but I'm, um, I'm lost as fuck." He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his now loose curls. His breath catches when the stranger follows the movement, a slight gleam of what Eddie VERY much hopes is interest lighting those honey brown eyes. Fuck, forget the French countryside--Eddie's got a goddamn MUSE standing right in front of him.

The guy smiles, just as charming, just as friendly, but is there a little bit of flirtatiousness in there as well? "Well, it just so happens my friend and I are heading into the city tonight for some music festival she's been dying to go to since, like, before we met. I'd be happy to make sure you get back."

Heaven really is smiling on Eddie today.

"Oh? I'd be...grateful," he says, taking a risk and laying on some innuendo. Wants to fist pump when the smile widens. That is definitely interest in those eyes now. The guy sticks his hand out.

"Steve," he says, his grip firm and sure when Eddie takes his hand to shake.

"Eddie," he says, and God, wandering around the French countryside by himself is the BEST idea he's ever had.

"If you are not going to buy anything else, please step away from the counter," the cashier huffs. In perfect English.

[multifandomslxt]

BLACK ROSES

Pairing: Mafia!Lee Jeno x Florist!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x sunshine

Genre: Dark Mafia Romance

Word Count: 1.5K

Synopsis:

Lee Jeno is a dangerous man. From going on k!lling sprees for fun to torturing and k!lling his own father. He does it all. In short Lee Jeno is the devil.

Y/N is a florist. She's as pure as they come. Nothing exciting ever happens in her life and she’s okay with that. In short Y/N is an angel.

He was bad and she was good. They were complete opposites.

…Or so they thought

Get your tissues for this one. It's gonna be one hell of a ride

*((((A/N- I'll continue this based on the feedback I get...enjoy my loves <;33)))))*

FLOWER OF THE DAY: Daffodils are some of the first flowers we see in springtime and are a great indicator that winter is over. Because of this, they are seen to represent rebirth and new beginnings.

"Y/N, can you look in the back room if they're any more peonies left? Mrs. Lee just ordered a dozen" The sweet old lady shouted out while using her pale wrinkly hand to cover the phone so the person would hear her shouting.

Y/N jumped at the sudden shouting coming from the front desk. She was sat in the break room with her nose stuck in a book, something she usually did when she had nothing else to do around the small shop. "Okay, Izzy." Y/Nreplied.

She placed the book on the table beside her not before folding the page at the corner to mark where she had left off (a habit she had picked up from her mother a few years back) got up and dusted off her jeans then headed to the storage room.

Y/N searched the room high and low before coming to the conclusion that there were no more peonies in the storage room.

"Izzy I'm afraid we have no more peonies." She told the sweet old lady in a solemn voice. 

She always felt awful when her favorite customers couldn't receive their orders.

Izzy, the sweet old lady sighed " Mrs.Lee, I'm afraid we're out of stock on those, you can check tomorrow when we restock. I'm deeply sorry"

Mrs. Lee on the other side of the phone reassured Izzy "It's okay old friend, I'll be sure to come personally tomorrow to check. Goodbye Isabella"

"Goodbye " Izzy hung up the phone

Y/N had made her way back to the break room while Izzy and Mrs. Lee were talking.

Can't really blame her, she was excited to finish the book.

"You'll never leave that book alone will you?" Izzy spoke standing at the doorway of the room.

"Nope, never ever" Y/N replied popping the 'p'.

The old lady smiled at the young woman who continued to read the book she had read a thousand times before.

The old lady loved Flora dearly, she reminded her of her granddaughter who had passed away from leukemia.

"I baked some cookies before I left this morning would you like some?" Izzy asked already knowing the answer,

The girl was a foodie with a ginormous sweet tooth.

"Of course I do! Izzy this is food we're talking about" Y/N rushed out suddenly standing up.

Izzy chuckled at Flora's antics and handed her the container filled with double chocolate chip cookies that she previously hid behind her back.

"Thank you!" Y/Nyelled out in excitement.

Books and food the perfect mix.

Izzy left Y/N in the break room to resume her reading and eating. There was nothing else left to do for the day anyway.

Before they knew it, it was time to go home.

"Goodbye Y/N, get home safely okay? Don't talk to-" the old lady was cut off by Flora's playful tone

"-Strangers, I know Izzy, I'm 22 not 12. You do the same m'kay? I don't wanna have to punch somebody" Flora stated seriously

"Okay darling, see you tomorrow " Isabella replied before getting in her car

"Bye Izzy" Y/N shouted out to Isabella who was already out of the parking lot.

..................................................................................................................................

Half an hour later Y/N was in the comfort of her own home stuffing her face with seasoned mac n cheese.

She let out a long sigh before plopping herself on her cheap, old, blue couch that she had bought at a garage sale for forty dollars.

 The couch was practically falling apart.

She stared at the chipped cream walls of her apartment and allowed her thoughts to take over.

How am I gonna pay rent this month? The shop is barely getting any sales.

How am I gonna pay for groceries? I've been eating mac n cheese for three months straight now.

Maybe I should go back ho-

Her thoughts were cut off by her cell phone ringing

Who's that girl by EVE blaring out of the speaker

Her screen flashed the caller ID

'IZZY<3'

Y/N picked up the phone and answered

"Hello sweetheart, I'm not feeling too well tonight so I'm going to the doctor tomorrow could you possibly go to work a little earlier than usual to fill in for me?"

"Sure Izzy that's not a problem. Is the spare key still kept in the same place?"

"Yes it is, thanks again love, you're an angel, also Mrs. Leeis coming to pick up the peonies she wanted tomorrow tell her I apologize for not being able to make it okay?" Izzy replied in a weak voice.

"Alright old lady g'night and get some rest please" Y/N said.

Eventually, they both hung up and Y/N decided that it was time for bed.

She had to wake up at 7 tomorrow to prep and open the store.

POV SWITCH 

Y/N💐

It was already 7:49 when I reached the store. I was a little late but that didn't matter. Izzy wasn't here to tell me off anyway.

Standing at the door of the shop my eyes started wandering among the heap of black plant pots to find the worn red Russian doll

"Eureka" I whispered when I finally spotted it.

I picked it up and started breaking down each layer until I found the spare key.

With a forceful push of the old wooden door

I was finally inside the store I had grown to love.

The store was weirdly quiet thanks to Izzy's absence but again, that didn't matter right now. She trusted me enough to manage the store on my own for a day so I won't disappoint her.

Dropping my shoulder bag on the front desk I walked over to the staff notice board and memories the schedule for today

8:00-8:30 delivery of new stock

8:30-9:15 restock the flowers CORRECTLY

BREAK

10:15-12:00 Make new bouquets for display

BREAK

Do whatever the heck you want after that until closing

I giggled at the last bit "of course she would write something like this"

It was understandable though the store wasn't that popular and we didn't have many sales.

With a sigh, I looked up at the clock that hung on the wall above the board

8:01 it read. Good, that means the delivery truck will be here any min-

The doorbell chimed signaling that someone had entered the store.

"Any minute" I finished

"Hey, Ricky, y'know your like 2 minutes late right? Izzy's gonna eat you alive for this " I laughed with my back still turned towards the door.

"I'm not Ricky" an unfamiliar voice said.

I quickly spun around to find a tall lean man dressed in a suit.

"Who are you?" I asked surprised

"A customer. I ordered previously I'm here to pick it up" He responded.

He had an accent.

I loved men with accents.

Fuck.

Clearing my throat I made my way to the small computer at the corner of the table

"Name?" I questioned

"Lee Gyun-hee " he replied shortly

I looked up from the screen "huh? What'd you say?"

"Lee Gyun-hee ." he repeated

Maybe I'm going blind or something because the person standing in front of me claiming to be Mrs. Lee did not look like Mrs. Lee.

Mrs. Lee was female

This person was not

Mrs. Lee was barely 5'6

This man was not

"Um....see...here's the thing I would give you the flowers but I can't" I stated

"And why is that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because you aren't Mrs. Lee" I vocalized

"이 멍청한 여자. Obviously not. I'm her son, Jeno" He said rudely.

Now my Korean (I'm assuming) might not be the best but it didn't take long for me to figure out that he was insulting me.

This rude bitch.

"You're the one who's lost all common sense. How was I to magically assume that you were her son? For all I know you could have been a stalker or something. I am many things Mr. Lee but a mat is not one of them so don't try to walk all over me. Kindly get that through your thick skull." I offered him a tight smile.

His body went rigid and we both stood in silence for a while.

That was until he took one long stride and was suddenly leaning on the tabletop baring his teeth at me like a fucking dog.

It was hot.

no, it wasn't.

Because of the close proximity, I could now admire his facial features. My eyes immediately went to his pink lips lips

Then his Sharp jaw could probably cut concrete

His big nose led me to believe...stuff.

And.....sweet baby reindeer.....his eyes

Double fuck.

His eyes were practically drilling through me.

Oh fuck me.

He suddenly smirked "You would like that wouldn't you"

My eyes widened realizing I said that out loud

Suddenly he used his index finger to trace from my jaw to my lips, then he used his thumb skimmed over my bottom lip

"How bad do you want me to fuck you?" he asked

I gasped "Let's not...have this type of discussion"

he smirked "Don't be ashamed I wouldn't have a problem giving you what you want"

I folded my lips not knowing how to react in the least - I only get sexual experiences and confrontations from books- virgin way possible.

"Cat got your tongue?" He laughed

I rolled my eyes and stepped back.

Yes

"No"

You're hot

"You're not as hot as you think you are asshole"

Triple fuck.

[h0nology]

For The Cameras (Part 2)

sorry, this took so long guys, had a lot going on. hope you enjoy!

read part one here

warnings: fluff, angst, crying, slight bullying, kissing, cussing

It’s been one month since that night in Pedro’s suite, and it’s never been brought up after that. But you could tell it was on his mind as much as it was on yours. He was inviting you out more, not just as his assistant either. You’ve had a few casual dinner dates, the other week you two went out for sushi, and now the two of are walking the streets of New York looking for a nice place to get coffee.

You were always worried about paparazzi catching you two out together, and how the media would make it look. But your just his assistant, that’s all you are. To their eyes at least.

“Oh, look. Perfect.” Pedro snaps you out your thoughts, pointing to a little coffee shop up ahead.

You decide to push your thoughts to the side, smiling at him as you two approached the shop. He held the door open for you and you made your way inside, the smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries taking over your nose. You two approached the counter, where the young girl working there didn’t even realize the two of you were standing there, too busy chatting with her coworker.

“Excuse us.” You say politely.

Her head whips towards you, then the man next to you. You watched as her gaze softened and her eyes grew wider as she looked at Pedro.

“H-hi, sorry, what can I get for you?” She continues to look at Pedro.

“You know what you’re getting?” Pedro looks over at you, “Uh yea…I’ll take the iced chai latte and a cheese Danish.” You tell her.

“And for you, sir?”

You know she was just some crazed teenage fan but you couldn’t help but cringe at her, you wanted to roll your eyes and walk away but then you’d be the childish one here. After Pedro ordered and paid, you two looked around for somewhere to sit.

“Want to sit outside?” Pedro asks.

Was that really the best idea? No, but you really didn’t want to deal with that girl anymore. You shook your head, following Pedro outside where you two sat alone.

“Okay, so, you have a meeting on the fourteenth and after that you have a fitting for the—”

Pedro placed his hand over your notebook, “I don’t want to talk about that. I just want to talk. To you, not my assistant.”

“But I spent a lot of time organizing this.” You frown slightly, Pedro removes his hand and looks at the neat handwriting, with some doodles here and there.

“I know, and I appreciate that.” He placed his hand over yours, “But I want to talk about you.”

You slowly close your notebook, sliding it back in your bag. You didn’t stay up past midnight for nothing, he was reading those pages in that notebook eventually.

“Okay, what do you want to know?” You shrug.

“What is it that you like to do during your free time?"

“Funny of you to assume that I get free time.” You slightly laugh.

“Oh whatever, yeah right!” Pedro laughs, waving you off, “I am not that hard to work for!”

You join in on the laughter, “I don’t know…you can be sassy sometimes.”

“Sassy?!” He was genuinely in shock.

“Yes!” You argued back, the laughing taking over, “Get this, get that. Did you do this?” You mocked him.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You do!—”

“Here’s your latte and Danish.” The cashier from earlier appeared out of nowhere, “And here’s your coffee, sir. Enjoy!” She smiles before scurrying off.

“I don’t get how you drink that.” You cringe, shaking your head, “It’s good!” He defends, “Try it!”

“I’ll be up for three days if I even take a sip of that.”

“Cmon, you know you want to.” He says and before your even able to respond, he’s holding his cup up to your lips.

Against your will, you take a tiny sip of the absurdly strong coffee.

“Yeah, that’s disgusting.” You stick your tongue out, trying to get the taste out of your mouth.

“You just like that overly sweet shit.” Pedro mugs your chai, “Yes, yes I do.” You take a sip from your overly sweet shit.

“Back to the question though...”

“I don’t do much.” You shrug, “Watch a movie, read a book…crotchet.”

“You sound like a old lady.”

“Okay, that’s enough, old man.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him.

The two of you talked for a couple hours after that, enjoying the company and the New York breeze. You were finally able to go over Pedro’s schedule with him after damn near begging him to let you pull out your notebook.

“How are you going to stop me from doing my job?”

“You’re not working right now.” Pedro shrugs, slight smile on his face.

“I am always working, Mr. Sassy.”

Once the two of you had wrapped up your coffee date, you were walking the streets of New York again, you really didn’t know where your destination was, but you enjoyed just being there with him. The walk didn’t last long, you two ending up at a random park that wasn’t too packed. You sat on the bench, by the pond, watching the ducks go in and out the water.

You sat in a comfortable silence, the sounds of nature doing most of the talking. You hated to be one of those people, but you couldn’t help but pull out your phone, beginning to scroll through social media. Your timeline was the same as usual, boring, until something caught your eye. As you scrolled through your explore page you couldn’t help but click on the picture of you and Pedro that had been taken hours ago! How were they so quick?! Where were they even at? You knew sitting outside was risky but you didn’t even see anyone with a camera!

“Pedro and mystery woman out today in New York!”

fan1: not a mystery woman, just his assistant!

fan2: that’s just his assistant

fan3: looks like a date to me

You couldn’t help but to look through the comments, making your stomach turn and your mouth twist. Just his assistant. That’s all you were. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you continued to scroll through the familiar posts. And sure enough, there it was, the girl from the coffee shop. She had snuck a picture of you and Pedro from inside the shop.

“pedro came into my job today!!! his assistant was kinda rude but pedro was a sweetheart as usual I love him sm 😭🥹”

Your eyebrows furrow, “How was I rude?” You whisper.

“What?” Pedro asked, still looking at the pond ahead of him before turning to you since you didn’t answer, “What? What are you looking at?” He tries to peek at your phone.

You turn off your phone, “I don’t know what this is, or what we have going on. But to them, to the public I’ll always just be your assistant. That’s all I am.”

“No.” Pedro sighs, “That’s not all you are. You’re not just my assistant, you mean way more than that to me.”

“They don’t know that, Pedro!” You turn and look at him, “Does it matter if they know? You and I know that.” He says.

“Do I?!” You stood from the bend, “Pedro I’m not going to continue to do this if I’m just going to remain hidden away! I-” Your voice started to crack, “I can’t, I can’t just be your little secret.” You cry.

Oh, there's no way you're standing here crying in the middle of the park right now you thought to yourself. Pedro sat there, looking for something to say, anything to say but he knew anything he said right now wouldn’t help at all, so he remained silent. His heart breaking at the sight of you crying. How could such a perfect day be ruined?

You sat there and watched him sit in silence, waiting for his response but he had nothing.

“Right.” You sniffed, grabbing your bag off the bench before storming off, Pedro calling and following after you.

You remember that day like it was yesterday. Pedro had followed you throughout the whole park, up until you got in a cab. That was a month ago. Of course, you had to see him, which actually sucked but you kept it professional. You did your job and went home. That was it. That’s how it was, until Pedro decided that he was inviting you and the rest of the team to yet another event.

You got annoyed even thinking about it. Having to deal with him, Veronica and a whole bunch of press, cameras and social media. It made you sick, you just wanted to get it over with.

“The car will be here in ten minutes.”

“Could you help me tie this?” Pedro asks as he struggled with the tie he was putting on, “Ask your girlfriend.” You muttered.

You knew what he was trying to do, you knew. You had seen this man tie his own tie thousands of times.

“I’m asking you.”

Your mind told you no. No, just leave the room and wait for him in the lobby. But your feet had failed you, reluctantly (but really eagerly) walking over towards him. He had a toothpick in his mouth for some reason, eyes burning into your skin as you tied the tie.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?! You thought to yourself.

“You look gorgeous.” Pedro’s eyes scan over you, all you had worn was another black dress. This one was a baby doll dress, a bit longer than the other one and it had one sleeve.

You had tried a little more this time. Doing more with your makeup, you had found the time to purchase some not so mediocre accessories and you had did something different with your hair.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, Mr. Pascal.” You finish up with his tie, grabbing your things you had put down and walking out the door.

You scolded yourself as you walked through the halls, why would you do that? Give into him like that, so easily. I mean, who wouldn’t?

You shrugged your thoughts off, standing in the lobby waiting for Pedro and Veronica to appear. You haven’t even seen her at all today, you roll your eyes, hoping she was ready because you didn’t want to be late.

The elevator dinged and to your surprise, out came Pedro without Veronica clinging onto his arm.

“Are you ready?” Pedro looks at you, then eventually the rest of his little entourage.

“Where is Veronica, Mr. Pascal?” You roll your eyes over towards his, “She’s meeting us at the venue.” He says, “Now, shall we?”

You look at his hand that he held out, waiting for you to grab it, but instead you put your hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the door.

“I’m not going out until you say it.”

You wanted to throw a tantrum like a child, this man was working your last nerve. And for what? Because he wouldn’t admit that you were just his assistant, his little secret!

“Remember, big smiles, big smiles. And breathe.” You reluctantly had said, gaining a smile from Pedro as he pushed the door open.

As soon as he stepped outside the cameras began to flick and the fans started to scream, you walked out behind him, having to stop every time he did to talk with a fan.

“We need to be at the venue in fifteen minutes.” You whispered, not wanting to keep that rude label that had been put on you.

“Let’s just pose for a photo and be on our way.”

You went to step out his way as he turned to face the cameras, but he had grabbed you before you could, snaking his hand around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Not wanting to cause a scene, you awkwardly smile, looking every and which way. After a few photos, you walked to the car together, Pedro helping you in before he had got in himself.

“What are you doing?!” You whisper yelled, not wanting to get the attention of the others in the car.

Pedro shrugs, “Taking a picture.”

You roll your eyes, turning your body to look outside the window. You didn’t even give your regular speech like you did before all of his events, the stubbornness in you wouldn’t let you. You just wanted to get tonight over with.

The ride there was short, pulling up to the little red carpet that had been set up. You all got out the car, making your way over towards the carpet. Trina, Veronica’s assistant had texted you while you were in the car letting you know that they would be a little late, meaning Pedro had to walk the carpet alone.

“Give me your stuff.” You held your hands out to Pedro, and he hands you his phone and a few other things, “Veronica is running late, you have to walk alone.”

“Walk alone?”

“That’s what I just said.” You sarcastically smile, “Walk it again when she gets here, that simple.”

Pedro went to say something, but you pushed him towards the carpet, people starting to swarm him already. You stayed behind, watching from a distance as he posed for pictures and eventually got pulled to the side for a interview. That was your cue to make your way towards him, knowing how some of these interviewers could be.

“Hey!” Veronica’s voice calls out behind you, part of you wanted to keep walking but you knew she’d just keep calling you.

You turn to face her, the beauty queen walking up to you in a silk yellow gown.

“I don’t know what little game you’re playing—”

“Whoa.” You stop her, “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! I saw those pictures of the two of you. If you ever even think about coming between me and Pedro, I’ll make sure you won’t hear the end of it.” She threatened, stepping a little closer to you, “I’ll have you labeled as a home wrecker!” She spat.

“You g—”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Pedro’s voice says from behind you, startling you both.

He steps in between the two of you, “What are you? Crazy? We aren’t in a fucking relationship, Veronica.”

“Pedro, we have an image to protect.” Veronica argues.

“An image?” He laughs, “This isn’t real, Veronica! What we have isn’t real! It never has been, and it never will be, okay? This is all a part of a stupid contract!” He throws his hands up in frustration, “A piece of paper!” He yells.

His voice had gotten the attention of a few people, but they seemed to ignore it.

“Okay let’s just remember where we’re at, guys.” You say.

“I don’t care.” Pedro says, “If I ever catch you talking to her like that again, I will not hesitate to put a end to this and let the world know why we’re really together.”

You had never seen him so mad before. You hate to admit it, but it was really kind of hot.

“Okay…um, let’s just take a breather. You two can walk the carpet—” You began to speak.

“No, I’m ready to go.” Pedro shook his head.

“Pedro!” Veronica scolds.

“No, I’m not doing this tonight.” He shook his head once again, “Come on.” He grabs your hand, leading you over towards the car.

“Mr. Pascal!” You called out, “Stop calling me that.” He warned as he opened the car door.

You climb inside and he shuts the door, making his way over tow the other side. What is going on? Why is everything happening so fast?

“Do you know where we’re going?” The driver asks.

“Back to the hotel.” You say questionably.

Pedro gets in on his side and slams the door as the driver takes off.

“Why would you do that?!” You slightly yell, “And we’re just going to leave the others here? We c—”

Before you could finish your sentence, his hands were cuffing your face and his lips were on yours. Bolts of electricity jumped throughout your body, you melt into him as he kissed you so gently yet so passionately and needfully. He pulled you over towards him, lips leaving from your lips to kiss on your exposed neck.

Neck kisses were your weakness.

“Pedro.” You softly moan.

His lips continue to suck on your neck, obviously not caring where the two of you were at. The kiss grew more needy over time, you had completely forgotten why you weren’t even talking to him an hour ago.

“P-Pedro, we can’t.” You moaned, “We can’t.”

“You don’t understand how badly I want you.” He says into your ear.

“We’ve already been over this, Pedro.” You stop him from kissing on you, “I can’t be your little secret.”

You two eventually parted from each other, smoothing out your dress as the driver pulled up to the hotel. You thanked and apologized to the driver as you got out, Pedro following behind you.

“You’re not.” Pedro says behind you, but you continue to walk, pushing the button for the elevator.

“Listen to me.” He steps in front of you, “You’re not just a little secret, you’re so much more than that.”

“Pedro.” You stop him, getting onto the elevator that has already had people on it.

He comes in after you, quietly greeting the couple already in the elevator. He stood next to you, damn near biting his tongue as you impatiently waited for your floor. Of course, he followed after you when you got off.

“You don’t understand. Ever since I first met you, since I’ve laid my eyes on you…It’s always been you. I’ve always wanted you, and only you. I just didn’t say anything, because of the stupid contract I have with Veronica…” He sighs, “You’re not a secret, I’ll tell the whole world right now—”

“You can’t do that, Pedro.” You shake your head, “It’ll ruin both of our reputations and—”

You wished he could. You wish you didn’t care so much about what the media thought and said, that you two could be together freely.

“I don’t care about that! I don’t! I don’t care about the social media and the press, what people say! I care about you.”

Your heart yearned for his touch, for his lips to be on yours again, to be held by him. But you can’t, it’s not right.

“Goodnight, Pedro.”

reader getting on yall nerves?? part 3???

tags: @still-wanna-be-corrupted @kittenlittle24 @marchai @aestheticangel612 @southernbe @quinnsgrapejuice @writerrinthedarksblog @brittmb115 @oberynslady @ghostofjoharvelle

[crissiebaby]

Kelly's New Dolly

DISCLAIMER: This classic Crissie story contains diaper usage, forced crossdressing, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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

Zeke couldn’t believe his luck. It was bad enough that he had to look after his little sister, Kelly, on his only day off, let alone having to chaperone an 8-year-old’s birthday party at the single girliest place he’d ever laid his eyes upon.

Zeke’s mother was supposed to accompany the girls to the Pretty Pretty Princess Doll Factory for Kelly’s party, but of course, she chose today of all days to get sick. This left Zeke as the only person who could look after the party.

At first, Zeke refused, but after an obscene amount of begging (and a sizable bribe), Zeke agreed. However, as soon as he entered the factory, he realized didn’t ask for nearly enough.

The Pretty Pretty Princess Doll Factory was a paradise of girliness. Everything from the walls to the displays were all painted different shades of pink. There was a costume shop, a makeup store, and even a massive playground. Kelly and the other girls couldn’t have been happier, but Zeke couldn’t have been dreading this anymore.

The day started with pizza, cake, and presents. As the girls all screamed and giggled with each other, Zeke sat alone at the edge of the table, gorging himself on a large cheese pizza all to himself.

After lunch, it was time for the tour to start. An employee dressed in a bright purple princess costume came to greet them. “Hello! My name is Princess Lilac, and I’ll be giving a very special birthday girl a personal tour of my kingdom.” The girls all cheered and followed the employee through a pair of double doors.

It took Zeke exactly 5 seconds to be bored out of his mind. He lagged behind the group of hyperactive grade schoolers, his eyes locked on his phone, only looking up to make sure one of the girls didn’t jump off a catwalk or something.

By the 45-minute mark, Zeke was starting to regret wearing such uncomfortable walking shoes. His feet were absolutely killing him. While the girls were all standing around Princess Lilac as she talked about another dull machine, Zeke decided to take a seat on a bench to rest for a second.

While Zeke sat, his phone was lit up with messages. His girlfriend, Kat, was still pissed at him for kissing another girl at a house party last week, and he was doing some serious damage control. The pair furiously texted back and forth, spending little energy to even acknowledge what the other was writing. He didn’t even know how much time had passed before he looked up and noticed the party had moved on without him.

Zeke wandered around for a few minutes, trying to catch up with them, but he was so incredibly lost. Everything looked the same: pink, pink, and more pink. With his frustration mounting, Zeke decided to enter the next door he came across.

The door led him to another set of catwalks that hovered over a number of various conveyor belts that weren’t in use. Each belt had several nude, life-sized dolls lined up neatly and wrapped in plastic. Zeke started to lightly jog towards the other side when his phone buzzed again. He reached into his pocket to answer, only to lose his grip on the phone and watch it tumble down onto one of the conveyor belts.

Looking over the edge, Zeke figured it was only about one story down to the conveyor belt. With no regard for caution, he stepped over the railing and lowered himself until he could safely drop.

As he landed on the rubbery surface of the conveyor belt, he found that it was much more springy than he assumed it would be. The shockwave he caused resulted in all of the nude dolls bouncing off the belt and onto the ground. His phone was also launched, flying through the air and landing right at the mouth of a big machine.

Zeke tried to walk but discovered the belt was much too unstable for that, leaving him to claw along the belt until he could finally reach his phone.

Little did Zeke know that the tour group had arrived at the main attraction. The factory allowed visitors to create and design their own life-size version of their favorite doll from the Pretty Pretty Princess collection.

“As the birthday girl, you get to go first!” said Princess Lilac in her sugary sweet voice. “Do you know what doll you want?”

Kelly nodded enthusiastically, “I want a big Betsy Wetsy doll.”

With no more deliberation, Princess Lilac escorted Kelly to a control panel. Kelly diligently picked out a short, pink princess dress with puffy sleeves and a tiara. She also added two giant, fluffy diapers, some lacy stockings, and a pair of pink high heels. Then she moved on to make-up, leaving no space unpainted.

With everything selected, Kelly hit the “Make My Dolly” button with innocent enthusiasm.

For Zeke, she couldn’t have pressed start at a worse time. Just as he got his hands on his phone, the conveyor belt started moving forward. The force caused him to fall backward. He tried to get up, but the unstable floor beneath him made that an impossibility. With no escape, Zeke was pulled into the machine.

Princess Lilac let the girls over to a big room with a viewing window, “Here you’ll get to watch while your dolly is dressed and-” The sudden sound of Lilac’s phone ringing cut her off in the middle of her speech. She reached into her bra and pulled it out. “You girls stay right here and watch. I’ll be off to the side if you need anything.”

Princess Lilac walked to a corner of the room, leaving Kelly and the other girls to watch as Zeke was pulled into view by four mechanical arms, his screams muffled from inside the insulated room. The girls rushed to the glass and started laughing at the boy’s misfortune, the loudest of which was Kelly, who was silently annoyed that her brother was being such a stick in the mud. She squinted her eyes and smiled, ready to enjoy the show.

The machine wasted no time removing Zeke’s clothing, which it mistook for the doll’s wrapping. In a matter of seconds, he was completely nude.

The arms then laid Zeke down on a padded mat as he was forced to watch two of the largest diapers he’d ever seen be carried toward him by more mechanical arms. They were not real diapers but were instead filled with cotton stuffing that was designed to make the padding even bulkier than the real thing.

Zeke pulled and wiggled as much as he could, but it was no use. The machine lifted his butt off the mat and pulled the first diaper onto his waist, simultaneously spraying his crotch with a perfume that strongly smelled of baby powder. It wasn’t over, though, as the second diaper was soon added, separating his legs over a foot wide.

The arms continued by adding two long, silky stockings to his legs, which hugged him in a way he had never felt before. He felt the front of his soft, pillowy diapers begin to tent in defiance of his own displeasure with the current situation.

A pair of heels were then placed on his feet. The heels were far too small, but the machine did its damnedest to make sure they fit. After an agonizing few seconds, his feet were wedged inside the shoes.

More robotic arms descended and lifted him up, allowing a corset to be wrapped around his torso. The arms pulled the strings tightly as Zeke felt all air leave his lungs. And his lungs weren’t the only thing to feel pressure. The corset also was doing a number on his stomach, which was working its way through digesting an unhealthy amount of cheap pizza.

Zeke knew an eruption was pending. If he didn’t escape soon, these bright white diapers might not be so white anymore.

The machine paid no mind to Zeke’s plight, lifting his arms high in the air and sliding down the pink princess dress that Kelly had selected. The dress was made of silk, with lace and ruffles scattered all around. At his waist, the dress was bellowed out by a built-in petticoat that pushed the skirt wide and high, ensuring his diapers would be visible from every angle.

A metal mask was placed on his face. He shouted as the metal warmed up and printed make-up onto him, according to Kelly’s specifications. While that happened, a big blonde wig with strands of hair that extended down to Zeke’s lower back was positioned and glued onto his head.

Zeke gasped for air the second the mask parted ways with his face. If he had a mirror, he would’ve seen the sum total of lipstick, blush, concealer, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, and every other product under the sun that had been precisely slathered onto his face.

As soon as the finishing touch of a small, golden tiara was placed on his head, Zeke was yanked toward a large cardboard box. The arms placed him inside and secured his hands and feet with large twist ties.

The killer was a fifth twist tie that was placed around his waist and pulled tight to make sure the new dolly would be jostled in the box. With the corset and the twist tie combined, Zeke’s bowels could no longer handle the pressure. A large pizza’s worth of poop was squeezed out of him like a tube of runny toothpaste. 

With the dolly in place, the box was sealed shut and lowered onto a conveyor belt that exited the machine. Zeke thrashed around inside the box, using every ounce of strength he had to break free of his restraints, but all he managed to do was smear the mess in his pants even more.

The box was lifted one last time as pretty pink wrapping paper was applied for the birthday girl. Zeke could no longer see anything beyond a dull glow of light that strained through the thin pink covering.

Finally, Zeke felt himself come to a stop. The box was clumsily lifted up and dropped to the ground, slamming Zeke against the mush in his nappies. He grimaced.

Tiny hands began to tear the paper away, allowing Zeke to look up at his sister and her many friends grinning deviously down at him. He blushed with the heat of a thousand suns.

Kelly leaned in close to Zeke’s face, admiring her own handiwork.

“I think I have a new favorite dolly.”

THE END.

Artwork By CodiBaby 💜

Patreon: patreon.com/crissiebaby DeviantArt: deviantart.com/crissiebaby Pixiv: pixiv.net/en/users/27465644

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Chapter 9

7.8K

SO SORRY I WENT MIA LIFE SUCKED FOR A MIN THERE

_________________________________________________________

When Harry peels his eyes open at the crack of dawn on a Tuesday, he’s not expecting two beady eyes to be staring into his, mere inches from his face.

“Morning, sleepy!” Hattie’s shrill voice rings through the small guest house. She’s dressed and ready for the day, munching on some Percy Pigs.

“Morning, rug rat. Why’re you eating candy at half eight?” He narrows his eyes, slowly lifting his head from the pillow. “Gimme some.”

Hattie hesitantly hands him one, taking notice of the dwindling number of gummy candies left in the bag.

“Mumma left already and Daddy took a phone call,” she reasons.

Harry rolls his eyes as he chews, pushing himself to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s go get you a proper breakfast.”

She perks up at this, following behind her uncle. Harry’s bones crack as he stretches his limbs. He crosses the slightly damp grass and opens the back sliding door to Gemma and Michal’s house, trying not to let any cats out. Hattie stays in the garden, staring at some worms on the stone pathway.

Harry begins making scrambled eggs and conjuring up any fruit he can find. As the eggs cook slowly, his mind begins to wander. It’s been a little over 2 1/2 months since he returned to England and his mind has had very few thoughts that didn’t include Briar.

He misses her on his runs. He misses her on the train. He misses her in the morning. He misses her when he’s alone in a shop buying fuck-all to fill the void.

Grabbing his phone, he sends his daily “ . ” to Briar, just to check if he’s still blocked. As usual, the message sends in a green bubble.

Pushing the eggs around, he makes it just how Briar likes it; mostly cooked, but still runny. Drudging over to the fridge, he spots some cheese to sprinkle on top. With careful hands, he plates the eggs for the two of them to share.

By this point, Hattie is romping around the garden in her school uniform, getting dirt and muck on her shoes and dress. He stalks over to the door, opening it enough to shout out to her.

“Oi! You’re due at school any minute and you’re ruining your clothes! Get in here.”

Hattie’s head whips up at Harry’s tone. He’s never once yelled at her in her 6 years of existence. Usually, she can get away with anything from painting Harry’s nails to stealing his nice clothes for a fashion show. Harry sees her face drop and can sense the tears are about to start. She stands up, her wide eyes looking at him. She meets him at the door and wraps her arms around his legs.

“‘M sorry, uncle H. Didn’t mean to mess up my dress.”

“It’s okay, bug. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Why don’t you sit and start eating, and I’ll run upstairs to grab a new dress, yeah? Do you need new socks, too?”

She nods sadly, her bottom lip still in a pout. Harry lowers down to kiss the top of her head.

“Alright, love. Be right back.”

~

It’s not right. The room is silent, apart from the strained puffs of air hitting her face. Soft praises and dirty comments aren’t being whispered in her ear, and the hairs on the back of her neck aren’t standing straight up. Sweat is building up on her lower back and the backs of her knees as his hips snap sloppily into her.

They’ve been in this spot for a while, Spencer and Briar. If she were with Harry, she’d have reached completion twice by now, and explored 3 different positions. He’s barely uttered a word to her, just periodically grunting and saying, “oh yeah.”

Shuddering at the thought of Harry, she finally musters up the courage to look up at Spencer. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip in a manner that would normally be sexy, but to her, it’s repulsive.

They’d been out at a bar with a group of his friends; Briar being the only girl to tag along. They were both drinking and listening intently as his friends told funny stories. He included her when he could, but for the most part, Briar sat quietly to people watch.

“Close, Bri,” he grunts again.

She cringes, again. Only the people she’s closest with call her Bri. Is he asking her if she’s close, or is he telling her he is?

“Mhm,” she squeaks out a lie. He can’t possibly think this is good, right?

“Oh my goddd,” he drags out as he finishes into the condom. His heavy pants continue as he rolls off of her, a little sweat from his chest transferring to hers.

She cringes as he maneuvers his way to lay along side her. When he doesn’t immediately get up to grab a washcloth, she slides herself off the bed, picking up her shorts and throwing her long t-shirt on. She slowly shuffles to the bathroom, willing herself not to cry.

Spencer is nice; he’s respectful, but a little boring. When she looks at him, her heart doesn’t hammer in her chest.

Staring at herself in the mirror, her heart sinks to the floor. Her mascara is smudged, bags more prominent than before.

Briar used to feel enlightened and empowered after sex, a sense of weightlessness hitting her senses. But right now, a pit is formed in her stomach and she can’t wait for him to leave.

Entering the room, she sees Spencer sitting along the edge of the bed in his boxers. He smiles at her before pulling his sweatpants up.

“I have to be at the shop early tomorrow. I’ll text you?”

She inhales sharply, slightly relieved.

“Okay, yeah,” she smiles back as he leans in to peck her on the lips.

“See you later, gorgeous.”

Gus lifts his head as the unfamiliar man makes his way past him before exiting through the front door.

She joins him at his spot on his bed, nuzzling her face into his wide and fluffy neck. She’s a little salty because Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Gus.

“Gus, what did I get us into?”

~

After 10 weeks in England, the longest period of time he’s spent there since he was 16 years old, Harry is heading back to the U.S.

There were lots of tears from Hattie, sympathetic looks from his sister, and sad waves from his mum.

He’s in his groove as a father to Oliver, balancing work and making time for FaceTime dates and even popping back over to France for a weekend. Camille is bringing Oliver to America in a few days.

His flight was seamless. He opted for business class so he could lay down and sleep. By the time the flight attendant shook him awake, they were just minutes from landing in New York City.

Looking to the escalators, the same ones Briar left him at to go to France over 3 months ago, his heart sinks. Getting broken up with 11 days into a trip is fucking with his head.

Harry’s driver, Paul, is waiting for him, the trunk of the SUV open for his luggage. He’d added an extra bag to carry new clothes and even a new trinket for his collection. Paul gently pats Harry on his back when he approaches.

Sliding into the back seat, Harry doesn’t bother buckling himself in, and lays his long legs over the seats. His eyes are about to close when he gets a text from Niall.

Welcome home, mate. I’ll stop over tomorrow for the meeting?

It’s not that he’s not excited to see Niall, he just can’t stomach acting happy and ignoring the elephant in the room. He wonders if he’s been to Wynnewood recently. He answers Niall with a quick ‘ya’ and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Town is quiet, just a few joggers and dog walkers milling about. It’s early, so the shops are only just opening their doors.

“Hey, Paul, can we stop for a minute? I want to grab a coffee.”

“Sure thing,” Paul says, slowly pulling the car to a stop.

With a cracking of his bones, Harry slides out of the car to stand in the street. He ducks inside the shop to find one guy behind the counter. He’s tall, flowy brown hair with a few tattoos on his arms and hand. He reminds Harry of a younger version of himself.

“Morning, man. Let me know what I can get started for you,” the barista smiles.

“Thanks. I’ll take two large iced cold brews. Black. And a croissant.”

“No problem. I just gotta fire up the oven, so it’ll be a minute," the guy says as Harry taps his credit card.

“Take your time,” Harry waves him off as he tucks himself into a corner booth, pulling out his phone to look at his emails.

A few more people filter into the coffee shop, so the level of chatter increases. Another worker brings over his coffees, and the original worker is pulling the croissant out of the oven.

The bell over the door jingles, signaling someone is entering.

“Hey, Bri!” the barista shouts as he’s pulling two espresso shots.

Harry’s blood runs cold as he wills himself to lift his head. His chest tightens when he’s met with his worst fear.

She’s as breathtakingly gorgeous as the day he left her at the bottom of the airport escalator. Her eyes are still puffy from sleep, but bright and lively as ever. Her skin is perfectly tanned, and her hair pulled into a neat braid that extends down her back. She’s a bit flushed, assuming she is in the middle of a run.

The barista has completely abandoned Harry’s croissant in order to lean over the counter and talk to her. He passes her her favorite drink; a green iced tea, lightly sweetened with lemon.

In his observation of this interaction, Harry forgets to breathe, so he lightly chokes on his own saliva. He’s hidden from their view, so he’s not worried about being caught.

Are they friends? Are they more? Was she in essentially no pain since she ended it?

Peering around, he can’t find an emergency exit. Paul will start to question why he’s been in there so long. The other worker finally brings his croissant to Harry, but there’s no way he can physically stomach it.

More people are entering the coffee shop, so Briar waves shyly to the barista and makes her way out of the shop.

He counts to 30 before pushing himself to his feet. The lock in his jaw is tight and his shoulders are so tense he’s scared he’ll snap a tendon.

He leaves the croissant, grabbing the drinks and stalking out of the shop. He’s moving haphazardly around the small cafe style tables.

“Have a good day, man!” the barista shouts, to which Harry ignores and slams the door with the strength of Thanos, he’s sure the whole building shook.

Paul is stood outside the car, leaning on the hood, his eyes a little wide, “Was that…”

“Yes,” Harry snaps, handing Paul the cup.

He rips the door open returning to his seat. His heart is pounding, and he can’t help but obsess over one detail:

She didn’t fucking pay for her drink.

~

For the remainder of her run, Briar felt unsettled, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She never feels this paranoid unless she takes too much of her edible gummies. Even then, she always had Harry with her to make her feel safe.

Things with Spencer are stagnant; they’ve hooked up a few times, and he’s invited her to meet his friends. They have a good time when they’re together, but she isn’t feeling the spark. Since shutting off contact from Harry, she’s grasping for male attention; something she’s worked on since starting therapy.

There’s a networking event at Wynnewood later today, so Briar is anxious to know if Niall will be there. They’ve effectively avoided one another, treading the subject of she and Harry’s relationship lightly.

Her pace picks up when she hits the public garden, stomach twisting in pain when she passes the bench in the little alcove where she and Harry had their first official date. Tears begin to prick in her eyes, making her squeeze them shut to try and stop it from getting worse.

Her relationship grief comes in waves; waves of missing him and fits of anger. Anger at herself, really. Deep down, Briar recognizes she fucked up. She won’t admit it, though. The amount of times she’s wanted to pick up her phone, unblock him and grovel at his feet should have her on some sort of government watchlist. She reaches her apartment complex in record time.

While the shower runs, she foam rolls her legs and starts to lay out her skin care on the counter. Her phone is blasting her calming playlist, and her favorite bergamot candle from Target is lit. She’s not sure what comes over her, but she delicately enters her passcode and scrolls to Harry’s contact.

Her stomach churns and her finger hovers over the unblock button. She’s a split second from unblocking him when she hears Gus bark abruptly in the other room. Slamming her phone back down, she strips her clothes and jumps into the cold shower. That should clear her head a little.

Getting ready and driving to Wynnewood went by in a blur. Her knuckles are white from gripping her steering wheel tightly. She’s certain she’ll see Niall today. He’s the executive sponsor of the networking and charity event on the back course and luncheon in the main dining room. She just hopes his best mate isn’t there to support. She’ll donate an extra buck to make up for that damning thought.

Briar spots her Uncle Patrick in his office squinting at the computer screen as he normally does. She smiles to herself before gently opening the door. Patrick looks up, glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Hey, Bear,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she sighs, taking her usual spot on the sofa.

“I sent over your itinerary for California. We’ll all be on the same flight, but you’ll be on your own for most of the trip. The boys and I will be playing at Pebble Beach and a few other courses. But, I’m sure you’ll keep busy with your mom.”

Briar inhales through her nose at the mention of her mother. This will be her first time visiting her in her new life in California. Anxiety bubbles in her chest, causing her to feel her pulse at her neck.

“We want you to come over for dinner when you drop Gus off and stay the night so I can take us all to the airport Sunday morning.”

Her jaw locks at that. This is a mandated trip, planned by her uncle so she can’t put it off. She’s the last of her siblings to visit. Seeing her mother start over with a new family seems too much to bear. Her heart hurts thinking about it.

“Okay. Are you sure Aunt Mer is okay watching him? I can have Caroline stay at my apartment.”

“She’s fine. She’ll want a buddy for the week, anyway.”

Briar hums, playing with the hem of her shirt as she musters up the courage to go out on the course. But before she does, she scrolls to Harry’s contact again and finally bites the bullet to unblock him.

~

Harry finally makes it back to his house. The sun is rising, casting an orange hue over the windows. He sees his annoying neighbor Maureen watering her plants, so he’s sure if she sees him she’ll fill him in on 12 weeks of nonsense he missed.

The lawn is well kept and the windows are clean. Madison did a good job of making sure his house is in order. His heart twinges when he enters the new code on his lock, imagining Briar on this same step, cursing him out and steam blowing out of her ears. He misses the way her nose would scrunch up any time she was cross with him.

Slowly, the door opens and the deafening silence hits him like a bus. No sign of life anywhere. He isn’t tripping over her shoes, and he doesn’t smell the light traces of coconut and citrus from her perfume anymore.

Paul follows behind him, placing his bags down by the entryway. Harry says nothing, but nods at him appreciatively.

“I’ll be back to pick you up for the airport on Sunday, Harry.”

“Thanks, Paul. Have a good day.”

Dreading the walk upstairs, Harry continues on with his carry-on so he can shower and try to sleep off as much jet lag as he can. He has a feeling he’ll have a lot of early mornings this week to get back on track.

He stomps up the stairs, preparing himself to see his bedroom with no traces of Briar left. The door squeaks when he opens it, and a gust of wind escapes his lungs. It feels wrong; almost too sterile. Briar brings a certain level of peace and comfort everywhere she goes, and now his house feels empty and void of color and fun.

Hell, he even wishes his sheets were twisted from Gus rolling around on the bed even though Harry hates it. The three of them just fit. It was easy.

Harry pads into the bathroom, turning the water in his shower on the hottest setting, ignoring the lonely blue toothbrush sitting on the counter, clearly missing its pink companion.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, not expecting to be hit with the grief from something as simple as that.

Just before he strips, he opens his text conversation with Briar to send his daily “ . ” to see if he’s still blocked. This time, the message is blue.

Harry’s heart stops for a split second. A rush of adrenaline shoots up his spine, but he can’t help the smile that’s formed on his face.

~

Briar finally emerged from Patrick’s office, so she quickly scurries to the garage to start loading up her cart. The bar backs already got a head start on it, so really she is only putting out the fun straws and straightening up.

She spots Joaquin, the stuffed bird Harry got her. She’ll spare him — for now. She thanks the boys for their help before setting off to the back course.

Wynnewood is packed with people, thanks to the networking and fundraising event hosted by Niall and the men’s league he plays in on Wednesday nights. She’s bound to see him, so she’s basking in the moments of no awkwardness.

Zipping past the practice green and driving range, she spots a lot of members who are never at the club at the same time; it’s all of her worlds colliding at once. No sign of Niall.

The shift is going relatively smoothly; Everyone is in great moods, and being even more generous. She’s already decided she’ll donate a portion of her tips to the fundraiser.

Rounding the 14th hole, she sighs as she sees Niall seemingly waiting for her. He’s leaning suavely on his golf club, tan chinos hugging his legs nicely. He smiles at her facial expression, knowing he has her in his trap.

Panicking, Briar slowly approaches him on the path. As Niall begins to speak, Briar punches the gas and plows over the grass, cutting around Niall. In shock, he whips around and begins to shout after her. She smiles to herself smugly as she whips to the 15th hole.

The grounds crew will have to forgive her for fucking up the grass.

Briar makes it through the afternoon without running into Niall again. But at 3pm, she’s in need of a break. She parks the cart and heads to the locker room. Staring down at her phone, her breath hitches when she sees a notification from Harry.

Just as she’s about to swipe to open the message, a pair of hands grabs her and she’s suddenly lifted into the air.

“Oh my God! What the f—”

Niall is laughing hysterically as he drags her into the empty steam room. He covers her mouth so she stops screaming. He places her down on the ground and she starts to smack him on the chest.

“Niall, what the fuck is wrong with you? Grabbing a fucking girl like that!”

“I know, you’ll have to forgive me,” He laughs sitting down on the teak bench. “I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he reasons, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure about that?”

Briar stays put. Niall cocks his head at her, fully assuming if that were the truth, she’d have left by now.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “What?”

“What is going on? You’ve been AWOL, Harry won’t talk to me, and I’m just plain miserable. Why did he fuck off to England?”

Briar is quiet. She had no idea he hasn’t been in the states this entire time. She figured he was avoiding Wynnewood.

“He was in England?”

Niall hums, “There it is. There’s the confirmation.”

“Fucking — Fine, yes, Niall, we broke up. I broke it off.”

Niall sighs again standing up to face her, “I figured as much. It’s been like, two months, and he’s barely had a conversation that’s not about work with me. He worked remotely from his sister’s.”

Her heart hurts knowing Harry fled to England; reminiscent of when Camille ended the engagement. She can’t help but feel like a villain.

“Briar, you’re 24. I think anyone with a good head on their shoulders would have apprehensions if their significant other has a kid. He just needed time.”

Tears prick in her eyes as she hears the one thought she’s been beating herself up over for weeks.

“I know,” she admits quietly.

“There’s plenty of time to fix it, if that’s what you want.”

Niall pulls her to his chest, the most physical touch she’s received in weeks. He leans down to whisper in her ear, “I’m sweating out of my arsehole right now.”

She guffaws and shoves him, turning on her heels to leave the steam room. She pulls her phone back out to deal with the text from Harry. She mentally prepares to read a long text trying to get her back. Instead, she’s met with a single “ . ”

What the fuck?

~

Friday night comes quicker than Briar likes. She begrudgingly loads her luggage and Gus’s supplies into the Jeep and sets off for her Aunt and Uncle’s house. Her brothers are already there, based on the memes in the “BarlHOES” family group chat.

Her uncle is quick to help her unload and manage Gus, and Cormac grabs her small suitcase and backpack. She gives her youngest brother a big hug. They silently embrace until Cormac pulls away.

She follows the two of them inside and is greeted by her aunt.

“Hi, sweets! I’ve missed you, honey.”

Briar hugs her aunt and gives her her best fake smile. Meredith looks at her knowingly.

Dinner goes by in a blur; Briar only participating if directly spoken to. The boys head to bed early to prepare for their rude wake up call at 3:30 AM. Patrick bids the girls a good night after he takes out the trash.

Briar slowly backs out of the kitchen, hoping her aunt doesn’t notice. Meredith clears her throat and slams two wine glasses down on the kitchen island. She silently reaches down into the wine fridge and pulls out a Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Sit,” Meredith orders.

Briar exhales and gives in. She pulls out the stool and rests her legs on the spare one between them while Meredith pours.

“How long?” Meredith pries.

“How long, what?” Briar plays dumb.

“The break up. The break. Whatever you’re calling it,” She pokes. “The reason you’ve been M.I.A.”

“10 weeks, maybe? I ended it,” Briar replies, stone faced. “I’m hooking up with someone from my program now.”

Meredith sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “What spooked you?"

“Nothing. I just wanted Harry to be able to adjust to being a dad without me in the way. I had the parent who didn’t choose her kids, and it sucked.”

“I think those were two completely different situations, Bri. Your mom had issues and needed to focus on getting better. Harry can easily find a balance with his circumstances.”

Briar rubs her neck, “I’m only 24, I can’t be someone’s step-mom,” Briar replies out of exasperation.

Meredith glares at her and clears her throat, “Um, I was only 27 when I took in FIVE little monsters. Cormac was barely even eating solid foods!”

Briar laughs, and takes a sip. “You’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

“It was the sexiest thing watching Patrick care for all of you. It showed commitment and stability,” Meredith recalls fondly. “And it takes a strong partner to keep it all together. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Briar inhales deeply, resting her head on her forearms, “I know what we had was good. Amazing, even. I fucked it all up. I told him not to contact me. But obviously I wanted him to. He respects me so fucking much, he listened!”

Meredith laughs, “Briar, he’s 40 years old. He’s not gonna play your game. So, now, you need to figure out what you’re going to do about it. I suggest you do some reflecting and journaling when you’re in California. And smoke a joint. It’ll give you all the clarity you need.”

Briar hums, shaking her head.

“I think you already know what you want. You just have to go get it.”

~

Harry’s wake up call on Sunday ripped him from a deep sleep; the best night’s sleep he’s had since getting back to the states. He’s usually up by 4:45 AM pacing the kitchen and reorganizing things for the hell of it.

But today, he’s sluggish, and doesn’t even want to move from his bed. Rising to a seated position on the edge, he cracks his neck, followed by several cracks down his vertebra.

He checks his phone to find a text from Camille from 30 minutes ago. She, Oliver, Theo and Amelie are 2 hours from landing. Harry and Oliver are going on a solo trip, so Camille and her family are staying in New York for the next 2 weeks while they bond. Harry has a few stops in mind, and he can’t wait to spend this time alone with him.

Paul texts Harry that he’s downstairs. He unlocks the door from his phone, and sends him a text to let him know where his luggage is. For good measure, Harry checks his messages between himself and Briar. The message is still blue, but no indication that she read it.

He slips down the stairs after getting ready to head to the airport to meet them. Harry and Oliver’s flight is in a few hours, giving them plenty of time to go through customs and get him situated.

The ride is silent; Harry slipping in and out of a light sleep. Paul isn’t talkative in the morning, either. For some odd reason, there’s a traffic jam at the terminal. Harry can’t quite place what’s going on, but spots a family that looks like they’re arguing and some of their bags rolled into the road. Harry shrugs and pulls hood further over his eyes to block out the bright lights of the terminal.

Camille’s plane hasn’t landed yet, so Harry opts to lay in the car until it’s closer to when they’ll hit customs. With time to kill, he slips back into a peaceful sleep.

~

“Get the fuck out of my face!” Jasper screams at Welles before shoving him out of the way.

“I didn’t even fucking do anything!” Welles screams back.

Before they know it, suitcases are toppling over into the street, and Uncle Patrick jumps out of the driver’s seat to intervene. He shoves Jasper, who’s significantly taller than the rest of the boys, and shoots Welles a glare.

“Knock it off! Callum, Cormac. Pick the suitcases up. Now!”

Cars are honking and swerving to avoid the family’s altercation. All of this is happening at the grand old time of 6:15 AM. The younger boys roll their eyes before listening to their uncle.

Briar is disassociating in the passenger’s seat, not even lifting her head to assess the situation. She woke up with extreme anxiety, so she’s just praying her heart doesn’t jump out of her chest.

“Fucking ridiculous. 30 years old, for Christ’s sake,” Patrick mutters about Welles.

If there’s one thing about the Barlowe boys, they settle everything physically. They’ll even team up on Briar every once in a while, throwing her in a headlock or slamming her down on the sofa.

She finally snaps from her daze and maneuvers to grab her belongings. For all she cares, she’ll head in alone and pretend she doesn’t know them. Once she’s through security and has her Starbucks, she’ll be golden.

They descend toward the escalator, until Briar hears a gasp. She whips her head around to her younger brother, Cormac, looking white as a ghost.

She places her hands on his shoulders, her sisterly instincts kicking in, “Mac? What’s wrong, bubby? Are you gonna be sick?”

He speaks so softly she has to lean in to hear him.

“Bri, I forgot my license. Are they gonna let me on the plane?”

She tries to mask the pain on her face, but fails. She glances over at her stressed uncle, whose blood pressure is probably only just lowering. Cormac turned 18 3 days ago, so she knows their chances of flying without his license is slim to none

“It’s okay, I’ll tell Uncle Patrick,” she pats his head lightly.

They are 25 feet from the security line, so Briar speaks up.

“Uncle Pat, don’t make a scene, please,” she reasons. “Mac doesn’t have his I.D.”

Patrick closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and regulate his reaction. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone to dial American Airlines. Briar watches as he places his phone between his shoulder and ear, and aggressively waves the family to follow him back downstairs.

Needless to say, none of the Barlowes got on that plane.

~

It was just like the movies when Harry reunited with Oliver. He stood at the bottom of the escalators and waited for his boy to spot him from the top. He immediately bounces on his heels but refrains from running down the escalator when Camille shoots him a look. Amelie is strapped to Camille’s chest while Theo manages the bags.

“Papa!” Oliver shouts as soon as he’s within earshot of Harry.

“Mate! Welcome to America!”

Camille smiles as she makes the final steps off the escalator. She looks down at her excited boy fondly and gives Harry a side hug as to not disturb the baby.

“Customs line long?” Harry asks, breaking up the mild awkward silence. Theo finally joined them, shaking Harry’s hand and pulling him in for a bro hug.

“Not bad today. Packed far too much, though,” Theo grumbles, looking directly at Camille.

“2 1/2 weeks in New York means 2 months worth of clothes,” she smirks.

While Harry takes Oliver to California solo, Theo and Camille are staying in New York. Camille worked out several business deals, so she’ll have in-person meetings the entire time. When Harry and Oliver return, they’ll fly home to Paris together. After that, Harry’s not sure when he’ll see him next.

Camille felt more comfortable being in on the same continent during their first solo trip. Harry is stoked — he planned the whole trip to Montecito, being sure to hit all his old favorite spots and spend plenty of time in the sun. Even though he and Camille aren’t together, he thinks it’s important to tell Oliver about their story. He probably won’t understand, but he’s excited nonetheless.

Oliver stifles a yawn, so Harry takes that as their queue to start their own trip. They have about an hour until their flight. He needs coffee and a good bagel.

Camille leans down to give Oliver a huge hug, whispering in his ear to behave, be kind and have fun. The boy smiles brightly, wiggling his first loose tooth at her.

“That tooth better be gone when I see you next, mister!” She smiles, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I think we can arrange that. Does the tooth fairy travel?” Harry laughs.

Harry bids the couple farewell, and drags he and Oliver’s bags behind him. He spots a Dunkin’ Donuts, so he decides to treat them to some coffee — hot chocolate for the little guy — and munchkins.

Oliver’s eyes light up at the taste of his first American donut. Harry hopes he isn’t going to regret this later, unsure of how Oliver reacts to loads of sugar. It’s the American way, he supposes.

To pass the time, Oliver colors and the two of them play tic tac toe. He’s grateful he wasn’t raised as an iPad child. They talk about what movies they’re going to watch, fully knowing the boy will probably sleep for most of the flight. He’s a trooper after almost 24 hours of travel.

Harry shows Oliver pictures of their bungalow for the next 2 weeks; a small cottage steps from the beach and a short walk from the Beachwood Cafe, he and Camille’s old stomping grounds.

About 20 minutes before the flight, Harry ushers them over to their gate. As he’s sitting down, he partially tunes out the chatter around him, until he hears an announcement from the desk associate, her accent thick.

“Bare-low party of six, please check in at the desk.”

Harry looks around, in case the love of his life is right under his nose. He can’t be that lucky.

Then again, 10 minutes later.

“Bare-low, party of six, last call to check-in. Standby passengers, please come to the desk.”

Getting Oliver settled, they wait for their boarding call. They board third, a new perk of having a kid.

He places their bags in the overhead bin, sets his boy up with snacks, juice and headphones for a movie, but he can already see his little eyelids fluttering. Painstakingly slow, the plane boards. Harry paid close attention to the passengers coming on, and he knew his luck had run out.

Though, the seat next to him is suspiciously empty as the pilot announces the closing doors.

~

Thanks to Aunt Meredith leaving pilates to drive an hour to the airport during rush hour, Mac has his license and they’re booked for a later flight. The family swiftly runs through security and heads to their gate. The boys have calmed down, opting to lay in an empty row of chairs. Two are sleeping and two are scrolling their phones.

Patrick is scratching Briar’s head as she leans against him, something they’ve always done since she was little and pretended to be a dog everywhere they went.

Their boarding group is called, so they embark on their journey, leaving Briar to suck it up. She’s decided she’s going to make this trip about her, leaving all distractions behind. Her mother, Harry, Spencer, and school.

Settling into her seat, she turns on the movie she queued up and gets comfortable. She watches about 25 minutes of the movie before dozing off. She hopes Patrick will wake her to get a biscoff biscuit and a ginger ale, but she doesn’t have high expectations.

~

Patrick nudges Briar awake when there’s 40 minutes left in their flight. She climbs over a sleeping Cormac to use the bathroom and stretch her legs. She spots her other brothers a few rows back, smiling at the way they’re piled on one another. It reminds her of them all as kids, dog piling on a fort of pillows in the basement.

She stretches her arms above her head as she pees, swearing plane bathrooms have gotten smaller. She takes a selfie in the plane bathroom before heading back to her seat. Cormac is still passed out, so she clambers over him to the window seat.

Before she knows it, the plane is descending into Los Angeles. A pit forms in her stomach knowing she is spending the next 2 weeks with her mom while her brothers and uncle golf and surf most of the time.

Patrick rented two cars; so she opts to ride with Welles. It’s not often the two of them are alone. He was 12 when their dad died, so he had a more realistic grasp on what was happening to their family. He was Cormac’s age when their mother sought treatment. His bright, happy demeanor dissipated quickly. It makes Briar’s heart hurt sometimes. Her siblings dealt with these issues differently, and they’ve never had a true heart to heart about it.

They drive for a few miles, Welles fiddling with the Bluetooth and playing his music. They’re in the car for the next few hours, so Briar finally got the courage to speak up.

She clears her throat, “what moment did you realize Mom needed help?”

Welles’ eyebrows scrunch, and he looks over at his sister before looking back at the road.

“Uhm,” he starts, not sure where to begin. “I remember Mom picking me up from the first day of middle school. She was waiting for me in the pick up line, and she was slurring her words. I obviously didn’t know what being high was, so I was scared something was wrong with her health.”

She closes her eyes, remembering that day vividly. Uncle Patrick came storming into the house, yelling at their mother. Welles called him, too scared to get in the car with her.

“I remember that,” Briar replies quietly. “Mine was when she kept missing important things; school events and doctors appointments. It got to the point she didn’t know what day it was.”

“Yeah,” Welles responds solemnly. “Well, that’s in the past now. She’s better. Even though I don’t agree with some of the choices she’s made recently, we have to try to support her.”

“I know,” she starts to sniffle. “It was just fucked up to put that kind of pressure on us.”

Welles reaches over to squeeze her shoulder, “I know, Bear.”

~

Harry and Oliver’s trip started off smoothly. He collected their bags and got them on the shuttle to the rental car office. Oliver could still barely keep his eyes open, so Harry held him while they stood in line. When it was finally their turn, Harry was ecstatic (first to relieve his back and arms from carrying 55 pounds, and second, because he rented them a convertible coupe).

It’s similar to the car he used to drive around Montecito as golden hour hit the coastline. He and Camille would drive on the Pacific Coast Highway and head to the beach to smoke a joint and watch the stars. He smiles to himself fondly.

He sets Oliver up with a booster seat in the back, and rolls the top down. If he weren’t so tired, he’s sure he’d be smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, je suis fatigué,” Oliver mumbles.

Harry smiles to himself. Even though Oliver can speak English well, his native tongue slips out when he’s exhausted.

“I know, mate. As soon as we’re at the house we can sleep some more.”

“D’accord, Papa.”

They drive for a while, and Harry slows down to stare out at the ocean as he drives through familiar towns. He’s excited to have some decent Mexican food again.

They pull up to the bungalow a little before noon. He lifts Oliver from his booster, laying his head on his shoulder. He unlocks the door based on the AirBnB host’s instructions, and gently lays him down on the sofa in the main room. His face scrunches in protest, and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s looking in the mirror. Even their mannerisms are identical.

Jogging back out to the car, Harry unloads and gets everything inside before locking up. He’s excited to head out back and enjoy the view. He snaps a few photos of the water, and sends his daily “ . ” text to Briar.

The bubble is blue again.

~

Briar and Welles talked the whole drive to Montecito. They laughed as they covered what seemed like years they’ve missed out on being close. She hopes this is a turning point for them.

Her phone chimes, and her heart stops as she looks down at the notification. Another fucking “ . ” from Harry! What does that even mean?

“What’s wrong?” Welles pipes up. She must’ve made a sound or had a sour face.

“Oh, um. I’m not sure if I told you, but Harry and I broke up.”

“Yeah, Jasper told me. Sorry to hear.”

“Thanks. So, I blocked him like, 2 months ago, and I just unblocked him the other day. I’ve been getting messages that only have a period in them, and I have no idea what that means.”

“It means he’s been testing if he’s still blocked. He’s probably been sending those the entire time.”

Briar ponders this. She kind of thinks it’s funny. And a little sad.

She laughs, “Do you know that from experience?”

“Maybe. Before Imani and I were good together, we were not so good together,” he says, hysterically laughing.

The GPS indicates they’re at their destination. It’s a nice house that overlooks the ocean, and appears to be well kept.

Patrick and the other boys are already inside, so Welles and Briar approach the front door to knock. They’re greeted by a small girl, no older than 8 years old, in a purple princess gown.

“Hi,” Briar smiles.

The girl ignores her and retreats back inside. She and Welles shrug, stepping into the threshold of the house. They follow the loud voices into the main living room. Along the way, she spots photos on the walls of her mother, her new husband, and his kids. Her heart pangs when she realizes there isn’t a trace of her or her brothers.

“Bear! Wellie!” Catherine Barlowe screeches. “All my babies under one roof!”

She hugs both of them and plants strong kisses on their cheeks.

“Did you meet Penelope?”

“Uh, I think so,” Welles responds.

“You remember Dean, right? And these are his two other girls, Daphne and Delaney,” she points to two identical girls. They’re probably 10 years old. Brian remembers seeing photos of them at the wedding.

Dean leans in to give her a hug and shake Welles’ hand.

They all exchange pleasantries until Briar excuses herself outside. Their back deck is gorgeous, and overlooks a picturesque part of the ocean. She snaps a few photos, and fights the urge to send them to Harry.

~

By the end of day 9, Harry is exhausted. He wasn’t aware of the mental toughness required to occupy a child, feed said child, and and also take care of himself. His heart grows three sizes everytime Oliver smiles during a new activity, making it all worth it.

They’ve already explored the beaches, went shopping, went to the aquarium, explored Big Sur, and even spent a day on the golf course. Harry just had to sneak one day of golf in to keep sane. Oliver reacted well and had fun chasing the golf cart, despite the nasty looks from members.

They start off most of their days by walking to Beachwood for coffee and croissants, and Harry tells Oliver their plans for the day. It’s been nice to reminisce his life with Camille. Almost like exposure therapy.

They check in with Camille frequently, and Harry’s even gone out of his way to vlog their entire trip. Maybe he’ll put together a video at the end. Briar used to love vlogging. She’d take 1 second clips and arrange them with his favorite songs. Some videos were for their eyes only.

Camille is busy with work, but she’s thinking of leasing a New York apartment to make traveling with Oliver easier. Harry’s not sure how to feel about it.

Harry goes to sleep that night with a plan to take Oliver kayaking. They’ll swing by Beachwood before heading off.

~

Briar’s brothers and uncle have golfed every single day, leaving her to stay with her mother and her new family. It’s interesting seeing her mother in this role; almost like she’s on a TV show. This trip should be healing for Briar, but she feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

The moment she woke up, Briar informed her mother that she’d like to spend the day alone. They’d gone shopping one on one and went to lunch, but Briar felt a major disconnect. Her mother took some offense, but understood she’s there for a few more days.

Slipping on her running sneakers and pink trucker hat, Briar set off up the hills of Montecito. She’s explored every coffee shop in the neighborhood and has one left that her mother raves about; the Beachwood Cafe. Her running pace has improved tremendously, so she makes it to the doors of the cafe just after 8. It’s jam packed, but she realizes it’s a Saturday. On vacation, she loses track of the days.

After ordering her iced green tea and a croissant, she spots an open table outside. The sun is shining, but the damning humidity from the east coast is nowhere to be found. She could live in weather like this forever.

Her podcast is playing and she just started the mini crossword when she feels the vibrations of the extra seat at her table being drug away from the table. Startled, Briar looks up to find a young boy, loose chocolate brown curls on his head, freckles, and bright green eyes staring at her. Still a bit stunned, Briar doesn’t react when the boy sits at her table. He has a book of marine animals with him, equipped with a sticker set.

Her heart is beating erratically. It can’t be, can it?

The boy is paying her no mind as she wordlessly starts to pack up her things. She’s cursing herself for bringing so much shit with her on a run. He munches on his croissant with strawberry jam and watches her fumble around.

Finally, she gathers her things and heads to the door, her head down in case this is really happening. She takes 5 stunted steps before running into a rock-solid object. She stares down at the brightly colored Hoka sneakers belonging to the man she’s utterly in love with, but is choosing to torture herself and stay away from.

“Birdie?”

___________________________________________

REUNITED N IT FEELS SO GOOOOOOD :D

Wrapping up the story in part 10 <3 I already know how I want it to go, so hopefully I can get it up soon.

[brittle-doughie]

How will the cookies Reacted to finding out Y/N have been frame for a crime they never committed and was jailed and was traumatize by the incident leading to Self Doubt and Trust issues and the Yandere Cookies met the culprit who cause Y/N Misery and Arrest

Antagonized

Innocent until proven guilty, that’s my take.

You looked down to the floor of your jail cell, hands cuffed together as you sat in silence, trying to take in what had just happened that led to you winding up in here.

You were arrested for the theft of Cheese Stones in Pumpkin Cookie’s Appraisal, being the only Cookie at the scene when alarms were raised. You swore up and down that you were only there to have Melon Bun’s stones apprised for her, but cops at the scene didn’t want to hear it. Cheese Stones were stolen, you had a bagful of them, and you were a new face around these parts, you had to be the crook.

You never would’ve expected to find yourself at the back of a police car today, getting your mugshot, then placed into a cell as they started their investigation into the matter. You again swore that you had nothing to do with this matter, but the guards putting you into your cell could care less for what a crook had to say.

So here you were, sitting in silence within your cell, awaiting your sentencing. Your hands were shaking, you’ve never been arrested before, let alone about to be prosecuted.

It was made worse based on the fact that you didn’t anything…

————————————————————————

Almond Cookie wasn’t buying any of this. YOU, Y/N Cookie, known for your benevolence and being an all-loving friend to fellow cookies, is being arrested for theft?

No.

He’s investigating further, he’s going after the rookies who were at the scene for doing such a sloppy job and making arrests before the facts were in. They couldn’t even be bothered to get your account on the crime before they threw you in the back of a police car. Almond Cookie couldn’t bear to see your mugshot, that look at sorrow in your face and the sadness in your eyes..Almond couldn’t stand it.

Solving this case was the least of his worries. Word had gone out about your arrest and now Almond had to deal with a number of cookies expressing their outrage and sympathy for you.

What a calamity, Truffle Cookie thought. To think that you of all cookies would be arrested came as a surprise to her. She’d politely request Almond Cookie to solve the case, but that polite tone contrasted her shadowy eyed look. He BETTER find the true culprit, she refused to accept that you were the felon, and Almond might just have to accept what comes to him if you’re put away for good. His closets or under the bed will never be safe.

Almond Cookie, the Cookie that helped her with the painting affair in the past, has now decided that you were to be locked up without even an investigation on who did it in the first place? Talk about shotty detective work, Butter Pretzel Cookie thinks. Her frustration is more personal on the fact that she wanted to unveil a portrait of you when you were free, so being arrested really put a damper on her mood.

Lollipop Cookie didn’t understand. You, a cookie she’s known for a while, arrested? But…you never showed signs of being a criminal, she was having to be consoled by Butterbear after a bout of crying. You said that you would visit the shop the next day to spend time with her and Butterbear, she was really looking forward to it and was saddened that it couldn’t happen now. She’ll plead with Almond to set you free, you haven’t done anything wrong!

Melon Bun herself showed up to the witness testimonies and gave her account that you really were just doing an errand for her! She was worried when you didn’t return after a few hours and was caught off guard when Pumpkin told that you were jailed! She felt guilty for what happened and will personally see to it that you were freed! She only hopes you don’t hate her after this…

————————————————————————

Almond was done gathering testimonies and started to lay out the pieces together.

You started the day by visiting Truffle Cookie to have tea time together, having pleasant small talk with her. (Truffle Cookie did have to pause her testimony as she held her blushing cheeks, ah, you said so much sweet things to her, she felt like a highschool girl with a crush.)

You then visited Butter Pretzel to help with her paintings, she needed more materials and she’s worried that stepping away will make her current work dry out before she can get more. She wanted you to stay and draw you a portrait, it was a long task however. She grew frustrated that she couldn’t perfectly replicate you in art form, she had to throw away so many drafts before she finally got one to satisfy her standards. Oddly enough, she closed her shop for the day right around when she started to work on your portrait.

Finally, you visited Melon Bun, who wanted your help to get her cheese stones appraised, but couldn’t leave the mine. She didn’t want Goblin Cookie running off with the haul she had right now! You agreed and Melon Bun promised that when you got back, you two were gonna have a pizza date! Looking forward to it, you grabbed the bag of cheese stones and made your way to the Appraisal.

Unfortunately, this would be right around the time that the Appraisal would be robbed of their array of cheese stones, done by a currently unknown Cookie. However, the pictures at the crime scene left details that Almond Cookie knew all too well.

This…felon was the one that had done this, this crook had always been a thorn to Almond Cookie’s side. The more Almond Cookie pieced together the evidence, the more guilty he had got.

Almond made his way to the jail cells, moving past the four cookies who went after him, ignoring their questions as he reached the cells. You plagued his mind, the look of sorrow on your mugshot coming back to him. That only made his pace faster.

He had to get to you.

————————————————————————

The weight was finally lifted off your shoulders when the fell opened and your cuffs were unlocked, Almond Cookie knelt down to meet your gaze.

He…wanted to apologize for every mistake this station had done to you. It was a mistake to have arrested you blindly, to have you even jailed here, Almond wanted to personally meet the officer that made the arrest and give them a reminder of why you don’t arrest innocent cookies.

He guided you out of your cells, to meet the four cookies that had arrived after hearing the news.

Lollipop wanted to hug you and ask if you were okay, but you rejected her attempt. You..wanted to be alone right now, get some coffee, and just shake off the day. Lollipop understood…but that tear that came out betrayed her words.

Truffle held your arm and expressed relief that you were innocent, would you…care for some tea? She wanted to help take your mind this whole incident, she’ll make yours especially sweet! You shrugged off her hold and told her some other time. To Truffle Cookie’ her heart shattered as she let go, looking down somberly.

Butter Pretzel caught your attention and asked if you wanted to see your portrait! She finished it and hoped that she captured your sweetness, she really wanted you to like it and to an extent…like her. You did your best to be polite and turned down right now, but you promise to look at it some other time. She says it’s fine…but the thoughts of striking Almond over the head with the painting say otherwise.

Melon Bun wanted to apologize big time for getting you into this mess, she didn’t mean to get you arrested, she didn’t mean for you to go through this experience, she hoped this whole thing was scrubbed off your clean record. Please don’t hate her

Almond was the same, he wanted to apologize for the station’s mistakes and responded to Melon Bun’s worries that this incident will be removed and wiped off, he’ll see to it personally that it does. He hopes that this situation doesn’t make you afraid of him or any authority, but when you couldn’t make eye contact with him, his fears might have been realized.

You announced your departure with a strained smile as you went home. As soon as you were out of view, the four cookies quickly turned to Almond Cookie, their glowing eyes shadowed in darkness, brimmed with murderous intent.

Almond defended himself, stating that was this crooked cookie that was responsible for this crime, let’s go after them instead of bickering here. Almond himself was incredibly angry too…the mere possibility that this cookie can get away with possibly ruining Almond’s relationship with you…enrages him.

————————————————————————

The next day’s news covered a brutal attack on a now jailed cookie, their dough bruised and cracked enough to leave noticeable injuries. Almond expressed no sympathy for the criminal, saying they deserved what they got. He shrugged off and disregarded the traces of butter, spiders, and cheese found on the perp, and especially the black eye the cookie had.

Butter Pretzel hummed as she painted a new portrait of you, who knew that bits of jam could really bring out the eyes.

Melon Bun whistles as she cleaned her pickaxe, watching over her shoulder every now and then. She didn’t want others to see the strawberry jam on it.

Truffle sipped on her tea as she heard the news over radio, giggling to herself as a shadow was casted over her eyes.

Lollipop wasn’t that invested into the news, she was busy spending time playing with you in the workshop, with Butterbear watching over the two of you with a laugh. As long as you were here, Lollipop didn’t really care what becomes of that thief.

All of them wouldn’t mind if this criminal was put away for good though. Because getting out meant facing these cookies again…and they can hold a grudge.

[milkyst4rs]

Hi hi! Can i request diluc childe and thoma (seperate) with reader thats gentle and dosent get mad easily but whenver theyre alone they curse like a sailor over anything that made reader pissed off. Reader dosent like showing theyre anger so they release theyre anger alone and got caught by them one day (maybe even caught violently stabbing raw chicken and vegetables while making dinner hahshs)

(Sorry this was long)

You good?

diluc, childe, thoma x gn reader. crackfic

thanku for ur request! Hope u like it🫶🏽 Thomas one is so fluffy☠️ can yall tell i love him

Diluc

Flowery, angelic, soft. Those were the 3 descriptors diluc would often tell people when they would enquire about you, his s/o. You were like a saint, always understanding, talking to the children of the town, picking flowers for him everyday.

So why were you angrily cursing at a pile of burnt cookies in the kitchen?

Diluc had just gotten home from his nightly batman duties and was concerned when you didn't reply to his usual, "I'm home, dear."

He heard a commotion in the kitchen.

"I swear on the 7 fucking archons, if this next batch of cookies doesn't turn out perfect I will actually kill someone."

Diluc's eyes widened. What was going on in there? He had to see if everything was alright. He slid the door to the kitchen open.

"Dear? Is everything oka-"

"holy shit- oh hey honey! Welcome home! How was your day, love?"

Momentarily ignoring your change in vocabulary, he took a scan throughout the kitchen. A burnt mountain of chocolate chip cookies stood there on the counter.

"I, uh. I see that you're baking cookies..."

"Mhm! I got a little bored, all the ingredients I needed were all here so I thought of making something sweet for you!"

"I see, thank you darling. It seems like you're having...some trouble? I've never heard you so frustrated dear, though I must say it is quite amusing."

He said chuckling, he walked over to the burnt cookies and took out a...cheese grater? He walked back to you and pushed the cookies and grater toward you, was he expecting you to do something with this orrrr?

"Adelinde taught me this trick, if you have burnt your cookies, just grate the charred sides and it will look and taste perfect."

"Shit, really? Thanks love!"

He has no clue how your choice of words can go from vulgar to sweet and loving, but he finds it kinda hot.

Childe

You and childe were polar opposites. He was a bloodthirsty son of a bitch and you were caring and nurturing, against violence and hate.

The people of Snezhnaya have no clue how the two of you got together but hey, it seems like it's working out well.

Whenever you and your boyfriend would go out for dates, people would hesitantly greet the two of you so they don't get put on the Fatui's hit list. You noticed this, however, and decided to tell people that you aren't going to hurt or put in a bad word about them. After awhile, everyone was happy to see you waltz into their shop, taking a look around and initiating small talk.

Today, you had asked childe to help you with physical combat, he gladly accepted of course.

He brought you to his usual practice area so he could teach you tricks on a dummy. Practice went well, you managed to build up stamina and strength in your arms.

"Phew! You learn quick babe! Let's take a break, wait here I'll go get us some drinks."

He pressed a kiss on your forehead and walked out of the practice grounds. You decided to practice a little more while waiting for him.

You were fired up. Landing hits and punches on the dummy like it was your worst enemy.

"Fuckin' bitch."

A kick to the head.

"Argh! Yeah that's right, cry little fucker!"

A punch to the jaw.

This was fun! It's a great stress reliever too.

While you were cursing at the poor dummy, unbeknownst to you, your lovely boyfriend was standing behind a wall giggling at your vulgar choice of words.

He had come back 3 minutes ago, no harm in watching his precious s/o completely obliterate his training dummy right?

"I didn't know you were such a fighter [name]! You can land hits physically and mentally, very impressive sweets."

You flushed the moment you saw childe walk to you.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this. I was in the zone."

Childe chuckled and passed you your drink,

"Ok ok! You're really cute when you get all fired up ya' know?"

Thoma

Ah my sweet sweet boy. He thought he knew everything about you, that you two were made for eachother. Imagine his shock when he sees you repeatedly stabbing a boiled chicken while cursing at it.

Where did the soft and loving [name] go? Is the chicken okay? (Obviously not since it's boiled but thoma is too concerned to think logically.) He remembered you saying that you'd be the one making dinner today, he's never seen this kind of cooking method before. Ah! Maybe you're using a technique from...what's his name? Gordon Rambly? Corden Ramsly?

He jumped out his thoughts and rushed to your side, worried that you might stab your hand accidentally.

"[name]! What's going on?? Are you alright?"

"Oh! Thoma! Thank the archons, please help me. This dumb crusty ass of a chicken won't cook properly! I've been trying to make it nice and tender but IT KEEPS. GETTING. STIFF."

Thoma's eyes went wide as frisbees.

"Ah! [name], mind your language! People can hear you! And, the water has got to boil on medium heat, you set it way to high!"

"I DID SET IT ON THE STUPID MEDIUM HEAT THINGY. IT'S THE FUCKING CHICKENS FAULT!"

"Shh! Okok, come here. Calm down.."

He pulled you in for a warm hug, immediately your mind went blank at your anger dissipated. You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and you blushed.

"Sorry, I've just been a little irritated today.."

He laughed and held you closer.

"It's ok love. Come on, let's make dinner together!"

"But I wanted to make this awesome meal for you so you could relax...now you have to do all this. Sorry.."

He lifted your chin with his thumb and index finger, his gaze soft and loving.

"I am always at peace when I'm with you, love. No matter how mad you get."

He mumbled the last part but you heard it and giggled, leaving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 12: Bloodied & Broken

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy refuses to leave Lucy's bedside while she recovers.

Word Count: 4,153

Notes: Warnings for references to injuries and hospitals.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 2: At Her Bedside

Tommy sat numbly in the waiting room, hunched over in his chair in a way that his back would likely complain constantly about come the next day, fiddling with his fingers–a habit he suspected he’d picked up from Lucy–as he waited agonizingly for the doctor to come back from the surgical suite and give him an update on Lucy’s condition.

He’d long ago lost track of just how long he’d been sitting there. Ada had come and sat with him for a little while. Brought a basket of bread and cheese and fruit that he barely touched, only eating a few grapes when she pushed him hard enough on it. But then it got late and she had to head home, promising to come back in the morning to check on him.  

He was aching for a cigarette, but there was no smoking allowed in the waiting room. And he didn’t want to go outside and risk missing the doctor if he came out with any news. 

His eyes, staring intensely for the last few hours at the doors they’d taken Lucy through, as if looking at them hard enough would ensure that she would be okay, dropped exhaustedly to the floor. Lowering purposefully so that no one would see the sudden glassiness that had overtaken them. 

His girl. His clever, sweet, impossibly strong girl. It was his fault that she was like this: wheeled into emergency surgery and barely clinging to life. 

He should have gone with her, when she went to go to the shop to prepare for the meeting. Or should have insisted she stayed with him. Or made sure that there was someone else already guarding the house. 

He promised he’d protect her. And where the fuck was he while she was bleeding and dying on the betting shop floor? Laughing with his brothers in the snug at the Garrison and sipping fucking whiskey. 

Just the thought of it alone was almost enough to make him sick with guilt and self-loathing.

“Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy’s head snapped up at the doctor’s voice. The man standing near the doors leading to patients’ rooms was tall and slim, in his early forties, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose and just the beginnings of gray hair starting to appear at his temples. Practically leaping from his seat, Tommy ignored the way that his back popped a little in complaint at the sudden movement, and approached him. The doctor looked about, the waiting room mostly empty save for another family who had come in but an hour or so ago, with a child who Tommy assumed must have broken his arm. 

“This way, sir,” the doctor said, holding open the door leading into a long hallway. “My name is Dr. Leonard Birch. I’m the head neurosurgeon here.”

Tommy nodded. “Pleased to meet you,” his throat felt raw from lack of use or water over the past few hours.

“This way,” Dr. Birch started to lead the way down the hall. “I understand that you are Miss. Winters’s emergency contact?”

“Yes.”

“And you were the one who came in with her?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re her employer?”

Amongst many other things, Tommy corrected silently, but just nodded in affirmation. “Yes. But we’ve been friends for a long time.”

Dr. Birch shot him a look that was a little too knowing for what Tommy was normally comfortable with, but he decided to let it go, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“How is she?”

Dr. Birch glanced down at the file cradled in his arms. “The bullet had lodged itself in the outermost layer of her brain, right beneath the cerebral cortex and close to the cerebrum, and she has radial cracks in her skull. I was able to cleanly extract the bullet and pick the pieces of broken skull out of her head and the area surrounding the wound,” he checked his notes again. “You said that she was shot with a squirrel gun?”

“That or something like one in size. I didn’t get a close look at it.”

“I thought as much when I saw the size of the bullet. The ammunition was too small and the firepower not powerful enough to properly propel the bullet deep into her head. It’s probably why she’s still alive. Her skull did its job: it protected the brain from the bulk of the damage. But…”

Tommy braced himself. 

“The blood loss and physical trauma was still significant. I am reasonably confident that she will wake up. But it isn’t a certainty at this point, Mr. Shelby,” Dr. Birch explained gently.

Tommy swallowed hard, closing his eyes, forcing all significant emotion to remain wiped from his face. Even though it felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach. 

“If she does wake up, she’ll have a long recovery ahead of her–”

“Any long term effects?” Tommy asked hoarsely. Birch had mentioned that the bullet had pierced the outer layer of her brain, after all. 

“No. I wouldn’t expect any. An increase in headaches, perhaps? There’s always a chance, but I don’t see anything to indicate that she won’t make a full recovery.”

“So long as she wakes up.”

“Yes. And I am optimistic on that front, Mr. Shelby. I just do not want to set unrealistic expectations–”

“I understand.”

Dr. Birch nodded and rifled through his papers. “After the surgery was complete, we stitched and bandaged her up, so I’m not worried about any more blood loss. But we will want to keep her for a while to get her started on recovery, and to monitor for any brain bleeding or infection.”

“How long?”

“Difficult to say until she wakes up.”

“And how long might that be?” assuming she woke up at all. His stomach turned with the pessimistic thought. 

“A few days wouldn’t be unexpected. Perhaps a week,” Dr. Birch gestured to a door. “Here we are,” he looked at Tommy with kind, gray eyes. “I understand that you are a figure of significance, Mr. Shelby. Your donations to this hospital over the past couple of years have been greatly appreciated. And so long as you do not get in the way of my staff and our work, you are welcome to stay with her as long as you’d like. If you have any questions, or you or Miss. Winters need anything, just holler. We have a nurse station nearby.”

“Right,” Tommy took hold of the doorknob, staring at it like it might bite him. He hesitated, glancing back at the doctor. “Thank you for looking after her.”

Dr. Birch gave him a kind smile. “It’s what we do, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy nodded, and pushed open the door so he could step into the small hospital room. He had paid extra to get her into a private room, with daylight. Sunshine was just starting to peek in through the drawn curtains. It was the morning, then. She’d been in surgery for most of the night. 

A small white cot was set up near the right wall of the room. Tommy took a tentative step forward, towards the chair already positioned at her bedside. 

Lucy was laying on her back, eyes closed. A metal halo brace was strapped to keep her from turning her head. As he got closer, he was able to take in just how pale her skin still was. She looked smaller than usual, tucked in under the white hospital sheets. More fragile. Her head was wrapped in thick bandages. 

Slowly, Tommy sank into the chair at her side, unable to take his eyes off of her pale face. Tentatively, he scooped one of her hands up in both of his. She was cold to the touch, and he silently wondered if he should demand they bring another blanket for her. She always got so easily chilled. 

Encasing her limp hand with both of his, he drew her in closer, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and resting his forehead against their joined hands. His eyes tracked the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets. 

A sob spasmed out of his chest. Then another. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt so helpless before. He wished so badly that he could trade places with her. That it had been him instead of her who had taken the bullet to the head.

Pressing his trembling lips together, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Just be okay. Please, just be okay. C’mon, sweetheart, I know you can do it. Just wake up. Just wake up for me, love. Please. I need you. 

While he did not utter the words out loud, he knew that somewhere, through the bond that tied them together, she could hear him. For a short, small moment, so miniscule that for a second he thought that he was only imagining it, her fingers twitched and tightened against his.  

Tommy lifted his head, staring hopefully into her face. There was no change in her features, and he felt his spirits sink a little, even as he tried to remind himself that it was unlikely for her to wake up right away even under the best of circumstances. The drugs they’ve given her to sleep during the surgery probably hadn’t even worn off yet. 

The hours ticked by, and he remained by her side. At some point, he just about ripped the heads off of a few nurses who tried to encourage him to go home. He’d even made one of them cry. 

He felt a little bad about that. Lucy would have scolded him, if she were awake, reminding him that it wasn’t their fault. They were just doing their jobs. 

Sighing, he touched his lips to the back of her hand.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, begging. “Please, love.”

Her hand remained limp in his. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Tommy?” 

He roused a little from where he’d been dozing, head resting on the mattress of Lucy’s cot near her hip, her hand still wrapped in his. He couldn’t quite stifle his groan as he sat up, back popping in several places and aching from being forced into a slumped position for so long.

Ada raised an eyebrow, hand dropping from where it had been resting on his shoulder. “You know, if you asked and were willing to pay a little extra, they might be willing to set up a cot for you to sleep on.”

“Mm,” he grunted, filing the idea away. It wasn’t a bad one. Especially since he was likely going to be sleeping there for a while. “What are you doing here?”

“I promised that I would come back to check in,” Ada said with a shrug. “I brought you some more food,” she set a basket down.

“Thank you,” he muttered, even though he doubted he would eat much of it. Ada shot him a look. 

“You have to promise to eat at least some of it. I’ll be coming back in a couple of days and I don’t want to return to find that basket still mostly full when I do,” she crossed her arms. “Lucy would be cross with us if we let you starve yourself.”

“That’s not fair,” he muttered. Ada just rolled her eyes, pulling up a chair next to him, reaching out to smooth some of his hair down for him. 

“Brought these too,” she said once she was done, reaching into a bag she’d set down on the floor. From it she pulled out a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed bear, holding in its paws a heart that read, ‘GET WELL SOON!’ in big, looping letters. “Arthur and John both pitched in.”

Tommy looked at the gifts, momentarily lost for words. He knew how some members of his family felt about Lucy. That they even thought to get her something at all was significant. He took them from her tentatively, carefully resting them on the side table by Lucy’s bed. 

“Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sure she’ll love them.” 

Ada shot him a knowing look, lips pulled into a half smile while she nodded. He didn’t doubt that the presents were probably her idea. 

“How is she?” she asked, glancing over at Lucy’s sleeping figure, her eyes saddening as she took in the red-head’s state. 

“If she wakes up…the doctors say that after a long recovery, she’ll be fine.”

“If she wakes up?”

“The surgeon says he’s fairly confident she will in a few days or so. But it isn’t a certainty. She lost a lot of blood. And her skull is fractured.”

“What about her brain?”

“The bullet only pierced the outermost layer of it. They aren’t expecting it to cause any lasting damage.”

“And if it does?”

He shot her a sharp look, not liking what she was dancing close to implying. “I’ll handle it.”

“How?”

“Doctors, specialists, whatever it takes.”

“And if it can’t be fixed?”

“What the fuck are you trying to ask me, Ada?” he snapped, temper and protectiveness spiking. She just looked at him calmly, suddenly looking rather eerily similar to Polly. 

“Tommy, if she can’t…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “What will you do if she can’t take care of herself anymore?”

He looked away from his sister, down at his unconscious lover, wishing for the thousandth time that she was awake and there with him. He missed having silent conversation with her from across the room through only glances while his family badgered him with questions that made his temples ache and his teeth grind together in frustration.

“Then I’ll take care of her,” he said, certainty in his voice. 

“How–”

“For fuck’s sake, Ada,” he growled out, closing his eyes and pinching at his brow. A headache was building behind his eyes. “Now? You really want to have this conversation with me now!?”

For a moment, she was quiet. Then, “I’m sorry. You’re right. We can cross that bridge if we get there.”

He dropped his head with a sigh, exhaustion suddenly heavy in his bones. “Thank you.”

Her slim fingers squeezed his shoulder. “For the record, I don’t think it will come to that. She’s strong.”

Tommy nodded mutely, reaching out to brush some hair out of Lucy’s still face, not caring that Ada was still watching him.  

“She looks smaller like this,” Ada observed. Tommy nodded in agreement. Lucy was such a massive part of his life, sometimes it was easy to forget just how tiny she actually was.

Neither of them said much of anything for a long time, Ada just sitting in quiet companionship beside him. It was nice, and while he couldn’t bring himself to actually say it–be it because of pride or something else–he was thankful for her company. 

Finally, his little sister sighed, shifting awkwardly in her seat. “Tommy, I really hate having to ask you this, but, Polly was wondering…”

At the mention of Polly, he stiffened. Whenever it came to Lucy, he and Polly were almost guaranteed to disagree, no matter the subject. 

Ada took a deep breath, probably already knowing that what she was about to ask was going to trigger his temper. “Polly wants to know when you plan to be back at work.”

Tommy closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing that he could say that he was surprised, even though he really wasn’t. “That’s what she’s worried about right now?”

Ada shrugged. “I don’t really…she just asked me to ask you, that’s all.”

“Tell her I don’t know yet.”

“She won’t like that.”

“She doesn’t like most of my decisions these days,” he grumbled dejectedly. “Tell her she’s in charge until I get back. That’ll put her in a better mood,” if there was one thing Polly liked, it was wielding the authority to tell everyone else what to do.

“She gave me some papers that she needs you to sign,” Ada reached into her bag, pulling out a few forms and a pen. Snatching them from her with perhaps a little more force than necessary, Tommy skimmed the text on each one before scribbling his signature on the line at bottom and passing them back. Ada tucked them back into her purse. She eyed him, expression puzzled. “You’re really going to put off business just to sit here? There’s not much you can do at this point, Tom…”

He turned his eyes back onto Lucy, and had to fight the urge to stroke her cheek. “I don’t want her to wake up alone,” glancing back at Ada, he narrowed his eyes at the look she was giving him. “What?”

“That just…isn’t like you, Tom. You always put business first.”

He felt his jaw tick, even though deep down he knew that she was right. 

But Lucy had always been the exception to many of his strongly established habits and rules. And…

Don’t leave me, Lucy’s voice, begging, echoed in his head. He had promised. Holding her hand while she bled onto the betting shop floor and cried in fear over what was going to happen to her.

“I’m not leaving her,” he said, finality in his voice. He could feel Ada still staring. Probably trying to puzzle out what had come over him. 

Because of course it couldn’t be love, eh, Ada? No; not your cruel, heartless brother. He’s a wicked monster, right, Ada? And monsters don’t feel such things.

Swallowing back the bitter thoughts before they made themselves known, he turned his head back towards her, though his eyes remained cast to the floor.

“Did Polly say anything else?”

He didn’t really know what he was expecting as an answer. Perhaps it was the small, foolish part of him that, somehow, still hoped that Polly would someday come around to Lucy. That she would at the very least understand that Lucy was important. To him. To the company. And maybe at the very least find it within her to show some semblance of kindness and acceptance towards her. 

He did not think that was asking too much.

“No,” Ada murmured quietly. Tommy turned away, scowling at the window and shaking his head. 

“Lucy saves her fucking life, and she can’t even be bothered to ask how she is.”

“Polly…Polly’s a proud woman, Tommy, you know that. It’s hard for her to admit that maybe she was wrong about someone. But I really don’t think–”

“You really don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that Polly has wanted Lucy gone from the very first moment that she stepped into my life?”

“Now, come on, Tommy, I don’t think you’re being very fair…”

“I bet she’s lighting candles at the church or at the altar in her room right now and praying that Lucy never wakes up. Or that she’ll die in that hospital bed,” he spat out bitterly.

Shocked silence stretched out between them. Tommy winced, biting down on his tongue, not that doing so would do him much good now. Ada gaped at him.

“You honestly believe that?”    

Sighing, he looked back at his sister, her eyes quietly furious, and she must have seen the answer in his face, because her expression twisted into one of disgust, rising from her chair and grabbing her bag. 

“Fuck you, Tommy, how dare you talk about her like that. Polly had only ever had your best interests and safety at heart–”

“You can’t deny that she’s treated Lucy fucking horribly these past couple years, Ada–” he started to defend. 

“You always take her side!” Ada burst out, cheeks turning red. “Any time any of us try to raise any issue about her, you stomp your feet and refuse to listen. Did it ever occur to you that maybe Polly has legitimate concerns about her?”

“Lucy has been with us for years now, she’s proven her loyalty dozens of times over, what more do you want from her?”

“No, she’s proven her loyalty to you, Tommy. Not to us,” she sucked in a furious breath. 

“She’s always been cordial and kind to all of you–”

“Yeah, to our faces. Then she gathers up every fucking thing we say in her presence and reports it all back to you. She’s nothing but your little spy and a two-faced–”

“Careful,” he growled. Ada narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her chin up in silent defiance.

“You brought this woman into our lives without consulting us. Without barely even giving us a heads up about her. None of us got to have any say in it. You just pushed her onto us and expected everyone to be fine with it and to immediately accept her. Over and over, you’ve chosen her over your own fucking family–”

“Lucy is family, Ada!”

“Have you not listened to a word I said? No she is not. She’s not blood. And she’s not your wife. Or even your girlfriend–”

Tommy locked his jaws tight around the words he longed to spit back in her face correcting her about how wrong she was. 

“She is an employee. A good one, sure, but that is all. You need to stop putting her above everyone else.”

He was beginning to wonder if Polly had somehow managed to possess Ada and speak through her to him. Rubbing at his eyes, he fought back the urge to scream and rose from his chair, getting right up and in Ada’s face. 

“I don’t think, of all of us, you have any ground to stand on when it comes to putting non-family members above the rest of us.”

“What–”

“Remind me again, Ada, who was running around with Freddie Thorne when he and I were at odds? Hm? Who was sneaking out every night to see him? Who was telling him everything that was said at family meetings? Who abandoned the family and disappeared for months and acted like she wanted nothing to do with any of us?” he paused, in a way that would have had Lucy raising an eyebrow at him from across the room and thinking ‘over dramatic bastard’ affectionately at him with her eyes. 

Fuck, he missed her. 

“Wasn’t me,” he concluded. 

“That’s not fair. Freddie and I are in love.”

Oh, Ada, if only you knew…Part of him longed to just throw it in her face. But he and Lucy had agreed to keep their relationship private from the rest of the family, and he wasn’t about to go against her wishes, especially without talking to her about it first.  

Not that it was likely to make any difference. They would all just find another excuse for excluding and rejecting her.  

He was suddenly very tired. And lonely. Even though it was what he ultimately had been expecting, it still stung to know that he was alone in his caring for Lucy.  

But for a moment, when Ada had handed over those flowers and stuffed bear, he’d thought that just maybe…

Shaking his head, he looked towards the window, frustration building steadily. Where there had once been the beginnings of comfortable companionship, now there was just bitter suspicion. Had she even brought the gifts out of genuine thoughtfulness and concern, or was it just in an attempt to butter him up before trying to wrench him away from Lucy’s side?

“Get out.”

“What?”

He looked back at his sister coldly. “You come in here, and you throw all this shit at me while she’s laying there, unconscious in that hospital bed after she almost fucking died…you defend Polly when she can’t even be bothered to pitch in for fucking flowers for the woman who got injured trying to save her life…” he shook his head. “Get out.”

Ada was looking at him with slightly furrowed brows. As if only just starting to piece something together. “Tommy…”

“I said get out. Now.”   

Her lips pursed, gaze darting between him and Lucy a few times. Her hands tightened around her handbag. With a small nod, she turned, heading for the door. Hand on the knob, she stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“For the record, despite our differences, I do hope that she wakes up,” she said. “At the very least, her presence makes you somewhat bearable to be around.”

Tommy flinched slightly as the door slammed shut behind her, sighing and raising his palms to flattened over his face, head tipped back while he groaned. 

Fucking hell…

Hands dropping to his sides, he glanced over at Lucy’s sleeping figure. 

“Can you fucking believe that shit, love?” he asked her in a soft voice. She didn’t respond, and he sighed to himself, dropping back down in the chair at her bedside. Stress and exhaustion weighed heavily at his eyelids. Reaching across the pristine white bed sheets, he took hold of her hand again, thumb stroking along her knuckles. 

“Please, wake up soon, love,” he whispered. 

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