#and I agreed to the weekend but found out this morning that she isn’t leaving Sunday afternoon like I thought | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanfictionalraven · 1 month

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Piece by Piece Pt. 9

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 9

Summary: This part takes place during the episode It’s A Terrible Life.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other canon characters and original characters

Word Count: 3,013

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 8 here.

You pad across the living room of the penthouse apartment, enjoying the morning’s peace before having to wake up Katherine. Looking down at the city, your hand comes to rest on your stomach. You weren’t obviously showing yet, there was only a tiny bump under your hand. Two arms come around your waist and a pair of lips find your cheek.

“Morning, Mrs. Smith,” Dean mumbles against your skin. You laugh lightly and run your hand over his arm.

“We’ve been married for 10 years, Dean. Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?” You ask. His nose brushes against your cheek.

“Are you tired of hearing it?” He asks. Smiling, you look over your shoulder at him and shake your head.

“Never,” you tell him. He smiles and presses his lips against yours. Turning in his arms, your own lay across his shoulders. He pulls away and his eyes narrow.

“You had coffee, didn’t you?” He asks. You bite your lip and he sighs. “I thought we agreed no more caffeine while you’re pregnant.”

“You suggested it, I vetoed,” you tell him. He shakes his head, unamused.

“I just want you both healthy,” he says. You roll your eyes and kiss his nose quickly.

“And one cup of coffee in the morning isn’t going to hurt either of us,” you say, taking his hands and pulling him into the kitchen. Dropping his hands, you move to the refrigerator and pull his lunch out.

“What are your plans for the day?” Dean asks, pouring coffee into his travel mug. You set his lunch on the counter then get the eggs out to start your daughter’s breakfast.

“Well after I drop Katherine off I have my first pregnant yoga class,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“That’s a thing?” He asks. You laugh lightly and nod, cracking a few eggs into the pan.

“Apparently. Bridget signed me up for it last week. Said it did wonders for her when she was pregnant with Destiny,” you say. Dean nods, watching you. “Then we’re going shopping cause Bridget needs a new dress for that charity ball thing they’re hosting this weekend.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand Bridget,” he says before taking a sip from his mug. You sigh and nod.

“I can’t. She’s a spoiled little princess but she’s going through this nasty divorce and she doesn’t have anyone else,” you tell him. He smiles, pushing off of the counter he’d been leaning against.

“You’re such a saint,” he says, walking over and kissing your cheek. “I gotta go. I’ll see all three of you tonight.” His hand comes to rest on your stomach and you smile at him softly, nodding. You lean in and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” you tell him. He picks up his lunch before kissing you one last time.

“I love you too,” he says. You smile and watch him as he rushes out the door before returning your attention to the eggs.

At 7:45 you drop Katherine off at the front door of her prestigious private school then drive across town to the little yoga studio. After an hour-long class, you meet Bridget for brunch before the two of you hit the most expensive store in town. By lunch, she still hasn’t found anything and insists on continuing after you eat. 2:30 rolls around and you’re ready to either pull your own hair out strand by strand or snap her neck, you haven’t decided. You finally manage to convince her that the green one with the dropped waist does not make her look like an avocado and the two of you leave. You just manage to get to the school in time to pick Katherine up. You get her home and settled in with her tutor before you start making dinner. At 5:00 on the dot your cell phone rings.

“Hello,” you say, sticking it between your ear and shoulder as you stir the pot on the stove.

“Hi, Darling,” Dean’s voice says over the line. You frown quickly. He only called you darling when he had bad news.

“You’re staying late again, aren’t you?” You ask, hanging your head.

“I’m sorry. Something’s come up and I don’t know when I’ll be in tonight,” he tells you quickly. You glance over your shoulder at your daughter and sigh.

“She hasn’t seen you in three days, Dean. You live in the same apartment and you haven’t even seen each other. Do you realize how sad that is?” You ask, your voice dropping low.

“Can we not have this fight again?” He asks with a sigh. You bite your lip, watching the water in the pot boil.

“You aren’t having an affair, are you?” You ask. Your voice is thick with the tears you’re trying to hold back.

“Hey, hey. Whoa. Not even close. You know me better than that. You’re the only girl for me, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’ve got a special project that came up at the last minute. I’m staying with a co-worker, Sam Wesson. He works in our technical support department. I will try my best to be home in time to tuck Katherine in and spend a few hours fixing whatever made you ask such an insane question.” You wipe at your cheeks quickly and nod.

“I’m sorry. Hormones and I spent the whole day listening to Bridget talk about her divorce. Her husband was having an affair with his secretary,” you tell him. He chuckles.

“Well you’ve met Janice and, as lovely as she is, I don’t think she’d be willing to throw away a 40-year marriage, three kids, and five grandkids just for me,” he says. You laugh lightly and return to stirring the pot in front of you.

“I think you underestimate yourself,” you tease. He laughs now then sighs.

“Alright. I gotta get back to work. I love you. I love Katherine. I love the baby,” he says. You smile and glance back at Katherine, reading her book.

“We all love you too,” you tell him. Dean hangs up and you sigh, setting the phone aside. Katherine looks up at you now and frowns.

“He won’t be home again tonight, will he?” She asks. You frown too and shake your head.

“He said he’s gonna try and make it back in time to tuck you in,” you tell her. She nods, unconvinced, and looks over out the window.

“Can we go to Grandpa Bobby and Grandma Ellen’s this weekend?” She asks. You smile as you walk over and plant a kiss on top of her head.

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ll talk to Daddy about it tonight,” you say. She smiles up at you widely. “Now go wash up for dinner.”

The two of you eat, making plans for the weekend. You knew Dean wouldn’t have a problem with going to see his family over the weekend; it was more a concern for how much time this special project was going to take up. You allow Katherine to stay up an extra 30 minutes, hoping Dean would make it in. But by 9:00 you get her in bed yourself. You fall onto the couch and drape a blanket over yourself before dozing off as you wait for Dean to get home.

The sound of someone rummaging around the kitchen draws you from your slumber. You sit up and rub at your eyes before squinting at your phone. It was nearly midnight. You sigh and rise to your feet before walking into the kitchen.

“Dean, baby, are you just getting in?” You ask before freezing. Dean was not the one fumbling around your kitchen. You stare at the strange man with long hair then grab a knife from the butcher block on the counter. The man raises his hands quickly.

“No, no!!” He says. “I’m Sam!!” You stare at him, holding the knife out towards him.

“Hey!! Whoa!!” Dean says, coming around the corner suddenly. You look at him and he takes the knife from you. “Easy. This is Sam. From work. Remember?” You sigh and nod. Sam. From work. The special project.

“I’m so sorry. Dean didn’t tell me he was bringing someone home,” you tell Sam. He smiles and shakes his head. You look back up at Dean, raising an eyebrow.

“I saw you were asleep on the couch. I went in to check on Katherine then I was going to move you to bed,” he explains. You nod slightly and he looks at Sam. “Sam Wesson, this is my wife, Y/N.” Sam smiles at you apologetically.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry for the scare,” he says. You shake your head, leaning against Dean as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“It’s fine. Not your fault,” you tell him. Dean kisses your temple quickly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sam and I are actually about to head back to the office. Shouldn’t be too long though.”

“Be careful,” you say, looking back at him. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up when you come in.” He laughs lightly and kisses you briefly before letting you go.

A few hours later, you rouse to the bed shifting next to you as Dean climbs in. You feel him gently push a hair from your face and you open your eyes.

“I told you not to wake me up,” you mumble teasingly. Dean laughs softly and nods.

“Sorry,” he says. You watch his face for a moment. His smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes the way it always does.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. He shrugs his shoulders, laying an arm across your waist.

“Weird night,” he says. You nod slightly, waiting. He eventually sighs, his eyes averted. “Are you happy, Y/N?” He asks. You smile and reach up, placing your hand against his cheek. His eyes meet yours again.

“I’ve got you. Katherine. The baby. What more could I want?” You ask. He nods slightly.

“Do you feel like – like something’s missing?” He asks. Your smile falls slowly and you sit up, looking down at him.

“You feel like something’s missing,” you say. He frowns and sits up quickly.

“Not with you!! No,” he says, taking your hands in both of his. “I am happy. With you and our little family. It’s just – work.” You nod as he reaches up and wipes the stray tear from your cheek.

“You aren’t happy with your job then change it,” you tell him. He sighs and shakes his head.

“What about the baby? And the life we have planned?” He asks. You pull your hands from his and takes his face in them gently.

“As long as we have each other, I don’t care about the rest of it, Dean. All of this,” you say, glancing around the bedroom. “It’s just stuff.” He smiles and you kiss him softly. “What are you wanting to do?” You ask as you pull away, running your fingers through his hair.

“Some freelance work with Sam. We’d be traveling a lot,” he says. You smile and nod. “I might quit tomorrow.”

“I’ll start packing then,” you tell him. He smiles and shakes his head, watching you.

“You’re too good for me,” he says before leaning in and kissing you again. You smile and lay back, pulling him down with you.

The next morning, you drop Katherine off at school before heading over to Dean’s office. You smile at Janice as you walk up to her desk. She hangs up the phone and returns the smile.

“Mrs. Smith. How are you feeling?” She asks. You laugh lightly and shrug.

“Morning sickness. It’s hit or miss, you know,” you tell her. She smiles, knowingly, and nods. “He in the office?”

“Go on in,” she says. You smile again and round the corner, stopping in his door. One of his coworkers is sat across from him.

“Ugh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It’s – umm…” Dean stammers and stops when he sees you in the door. You smile at him apologetically then step inside. The man looks over and smiles, standing up.

“I’m sorry. Janice said it was fine to just come in,” you tell him before holding up a small plastic container. “You left your lunch this morning.” Dean laughs lightly and nods, holding his arm out for you.

“Mr. Adler, this is my wife, Y/N,” he introduces, wrapping his arm around your waist as you move into his side. You smile and shake Mr. Adler’s extended hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I heard the good news. Congratulations!!” He says, reaching a hand out to your stomach. Dean’s arm tightens around your waist slightly and Mr. Adler notices, dropping his hand quickly. “I was just talking to Dean here about all the big things coming his way.” You smile and look up at Dean. He looks back at you and you nod your head once.

“I’m giving my notice,” he says, looking back at Mr. Adler. You smile proudly as Dean explains his reasoning, this company not being who he’s meant to be. You’d always known of course that Dean was so much more than a suit and tie. Mr. Adler directs his attention to you now.

“And how do you feel about it?” He asks. You shrug slightly.

“I’ll support him in whatever he decides to do,” you tell him. Mr. Adler nods and an almost sinister grin starts to spread across his face. Dean frowns and pulls you a little closer.

“Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally,” Mr. Adler says. He reaches forward quickly and touches two fingers to both of your heads. Your mind fogs over for a second before clearing. Dean’s arm drops from your waist and you take a step backwards. You steady yourself against a chair, feeling dizzy, as you start to recollect everything.

You and Dean were not high school sweethearts. You weren’t married or a housewife. You didn’t live in a fancy penthouse apartment. Your daughter didn’t go by Katherine or go to a private school. Your hand comes to your stomach quickly and you sigh. The baby was real. You knew that much.

“Are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?” The man you had thought was Mr. Adler says to Dean. He shakes his head slightly in response. You reach out for Dean’s arm quickly and he looks at you.

“M.K. Dean, we have to go get her,” you tell him. His eyes widen slightly and he nods as Sam comes running into the room. Dean looks around and frowns, the other man now vanished.

“What the hell happened??” Sam asks, staring at his brother. Dean shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist quickly.

“We gotta go,” he says, pulling you from the office. The three of you make your way through the building as quickly as you can. You find the Impala parked in a nearby garage. Sam gets into the backseat, allowing you to sit up front. Dean throws the car in gear and whips his tie off as he peels out of the garage. You jump when your cellphone starts to ring and pull it out quickly.

“Hello?” You say into the receiver.

“Mrs. Smith. This is Dr. Brown from the school,” a woman’s voice on the other end says. Your eyes widen and you look at Dean. He glances at you as he drives. “Katherine seems to be having a panic attack of some sort.”

“Can I talk to her please?” You ask, trying to keep your voice calm. You hear the phone shift hands and M.K.’s sobs come over the line.

“Momma??” She asks. “I don’t know where I am and these people are calling me Katherine Smith!! Where are you??” You shush her quickly.

“M.K. I need you to calm down. Daddy and I are on the way to get you right now, okay? Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. We’ll be there in just a few minutes,” you tell her, wiping at your own eyes. There was nothing in her voice but sheer terror.

“You’re coming?” She asks, trying to calm herself down.

“Just minutes away. I swear, Baby Girl,” you assure her, squeezing your eyes closed. The phone changes hands again.

“Do you want us to give her anything?” The woman asks.

“No!!” You say a little too loudly. “No. My – my husband and I are on our way to get her now.” You look over at Dean and he nods.

“Very well. We’ll keep her in the office,” she tells you. You nod and hang up, dropping the phone in your lap. You clasp your hands together in front of you, trying to stop them from shaking. Dean reaches over, running a comforting hand over your knee.

“She’s gonna be fine. We’re almost there,” he says. You shake your head slightly, wiping at your tears quickly.

“You’ll have to go in and get her. I can’t,” you tell him, barely keeping it together. He nods and squeezes your knee. His hand stays there until he parks the car in front of the school building. After he gets out, skipping steps as he rushes to the door, you feel another hand come to rest on your shoulder. You look back to find Sam frowning at you.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this,” he says. You merely shake your head, unable to speak. You take a few calming breaths, knowing you can’t be falling apart when Dean gets back with M.K.

A minute later, he’s rushing back down the stairs with her held tightly in his arms. You can see he’s talking to her, reassuring her, apologizing to her. You push open your door and he hands her off to you quickly before running around to his side. You hold her tight, alternating between kissing her temple, cheek, and hair. You’ve never been more grateful to have her in your arms as Dean peels away from the school, tires screeching.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 10 here.

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #dad!dean #castiel #cas

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storiesofsvu · 10 months

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Love Comes Quietly Ch 12

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, minor teasing from other characters, mentions of smut, v minor smut, this one jumps a lot to demonstrate time jumps, just little snippets of their relationship.

The greatest thing about the weekend was that you were able to actually sleep in, not having to worry about setting an alarm at all. Which honestly, was needed after your first official date night at Mezcalero, a few too many margaritas indulged in. Though neither of you were complaining, Alex mentioned the place was almost as good as the restaurant you’d taken her in New York and you’d agreed, happy to have found your own little special place in D.C. Instead of having to worry about work when you woke up the next morning you were able to curl deeper into each other’s embrace, lips moving lazily together as you woke up. Hands softly wandering on warm skin until breathy moans were leaving lips and Alex sunk down between your legs, pulling three orgasms from you with her mouth before she let you return the favour.

Between being out of town, back to back cases and the distraction of each other little things around the house had been left, meaning you were able to spend the weekend finally catching up on them. Though now you were moving with a different ease around each other, stopping to steal little kisses, hands brushing over shoulders, squeezing at a thigh, becoming distracted from the task at hand by each other with adoring smiles on your cheeks.

Saturday night Alex found herself drifting off with her head in your lap as you caught up on a movie you’d both continually forgotten was on your watchlist. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt more comfortable and taken care of, your hands softly carding through her hair and she stifled a yawn. You let out a small chuckle, nudging her upright, mentioning something about needing her beauty rest.

Sunday night you found yourself wandering down the hallway into her office, wrapping around her back, pressing gentle kisses across her shoulder and up her neck. You hadn’t meant to pull her focus from her work, but her hand reached up, squeezing at yours and she murmured that she wouldn’t be much longer. She gently tugged you into her lap, letting you curl around her, her hand soothing up and down your back while she highlighted important parts of an article for a lecture before she was finally done and able to follow you to bed. She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the way you instantly nestled into her arms, letting out a little yawn while your eyes fluttered shut.

You didn’t bother to distance yourselves any more than usual at work. You worked with a team of profilers, it wouldn’t take much for someone to think something was wrong or weird if suddenly you weren’t acting the same. Not to mention it was nothing new for Emily to put the two of you bunking together when you were out of town. The only thing that was new was what went on in those hotel rooms once the lights were out.

“I can’t believe you brought a strap in your go bag.” You mumbled between kisses, gasping quietly as Alex pushed into you and she chuckled softly.

“Best way to relieve some stress, isn’t it?” She asked, lips trailing across your skin, “and these are the most stressful times.” Her hips rutted into yours harder and you let out a moan.

“Fuck!”

She stilled her movements, pulling her lips off your chest, glancing up to you with a raised brow, “oh darling girl we can’t have you making too much noise now can we?”

“No mommy.” You muttered back and she grinned.

“Well let’s find a better use for those pretty lips of yours, hmm?” Her thumb traced your lower lip, smirking as your mouth fell open and she was able to slide the digit into your mouth, lips sealing around it. “That’s better.” She cooed, “now let mommy fuck you so well you forget your own name.” She began to roll her hips again, cock dragging across your walls, the curve of it hitting your sensitive spot with each thrust of her hips.

That night she kept her word, by the time she was done with you, you’d actually forgotten what city you were in.

When Emily asked you something about the case the next day you were still so blissed out you used the name of a victim from the prior case. Derek’s brow furrowed in your direction before you realized your mistake and corrected yourself, missing the way Emily shot a smirk to Alex who simply shrugged in response with a smug grin on her face.

Alex knew that one of your favourite movies growing up was Sleeping Beauty, that even though the story was a bit dated, you enjoyed the comfort of it. So when she was skimming through emails and saw that the ballet was on tour and coming through Washington she knew that she had to buy tickets.

All she told you was that Friday’s date night was going to be a little bit fancier, and for you to dress up a bit and then she prayed that you wouldn’t be pulled away on a case. Luck was on your side and she truly did get to spoil you that evening, a fancy dinner out, steaks and lobster tails with a pricey bottle of wine before she tucked her hand in yours and led you to the theatre.

You’d never admit it to anyone on the team, but you nearly cried when she told you what the surprise was for the night, pulling her into your arms for an incredibly deep kiss that she returned with just as much passion. And as entertained as she was with the show, she much more preferred to watch you out of the corner of her eye. The way your eyes sparkled in the lights, the fact that your dreamy smile didn’t leave your cheeks until the curtain was down, happy tears shimmering in your eyes.

When you got home that night, you made sure to show Alex just how much you appreciated the date night, and in turn, how much you truly appreciated her.

You’d spent the next week scouring your brain and searching through things to do in DC currently to try and find anything that could compete with Alex’s date night. You finally settled on a museum date Saturday afternoon, visiting The Phillips Collection. It featured an expansive collection of French impressions from various artist including Paul Cezanne, Vincent van Gogh, and Henri Matisse. You were a bit hesitant on how it would go over, but you’d been right on the nose, Alex admiring ever exhibit and going over details with you that while you didn’t necessarily understand all of it, you were more than happy to listen to her talk all day about them.

You wrapped up your afternoon date with a late lunch in the park, exchanging stories and laughs as you ate. When the food was done you strolled through the area hand in hand, barely able to control the grin on your cheeks when Alex’s hand would squeeze at yours. You’d nuzzle yourself into her side, a warmth blooming through you knowing that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

You knew that a long day at the office staring at screens had been straining Alex’s eyes, the way she was pinching at the bridge of her nose a clear sign she had a headache incoming, so you’d offered to drive home. It was only because you were stuck in a standstill at a red light that you actually picked up your phone when it buzzed, swiping open a text from Emily.

‘Heads up, director and the brass are coming through to do inspections Monday. So have whatever fun you want this weekend but be a good girl and be hickey free please.’ The text accompanied with a couple of suggestive emojis. You scoffed, rolling your eyes and Alex raised a brow in your direction so you handed the phone off to her. She let out a small laugh,

“She just never stops does she?”

“She knows not to push it, like where my boundary is but she definitely has hypothesis and questions that I don’t dare feed into or answer.”

Alex laughed at that, returning your phone to the cup holder and letting out a sigh of relief as the light turned green and you were able to finally inch your way through the intersection. You’d finally crossed the river back into DC when Alex felt her phone go off in her pocket and she tugged it out, finding a text from James flashing across the screen.

‘Are you out of town?’ Her brow furrowed at the message, swiftly typing out a response.

‘No, just on the way home from the office right now.’

‘Might want to check the yard camera for a connection, app just let me know it hasn’t been on in a while.’

Her eyes widened slightly, feeling the blush creeping up her cheeks as, thankful that your attention was on the road currently.

‘We turned the yard camera off…’

‘So that hot tub really is seeing some action now then?’ A laughing emoji for good measure, ‘just make sure to turn it back on if you’re going out of town again. I promise I won’t spy on you and your girlfriend at all’

‘James…’

‘What? She is your girlfriend isn’t she? I mean this started like a month ago, right?’

‘I’m not having this conversation.’

‘Y/N and Alex, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.’

‘If you don’t think I am going to remind you how insufferable you’re being right now, when you start dating…’

‘Point taken. Enjoy your weekend.’

‘You too.’

‘Make sure you’re keeping up on cleaning the hot tub.’

She let out a groan of a sigh, dropping her phone back into her bag as she braced her elbow on the window frame.

“What?” You asked with a soft laugh, glancing over to her.

“I see your prodding Emily and raise you a prying James.”

“I take it the camera app sent him another notification?”

“Yeah.” She sighed once more and your head tilted, surveying her for a minute as you slowed the car down before pulling into the driveway.

“Alex… what? Is he being weird about you dating again?”

“No, no.” She shook that off immediately, undoing her seat belt as you turned the car off, “exactly the opposite.”

“So he’s in support of this?” You asked, your brow still raised as you both collected your things and got out of the car. Alex lingering by the hood as she waited for you to round the vehicle.

“He.. may have been hounding me about whether or not you were my girlfriend.”

“Oh.” You stalled in your tracks as you reached her, your gaze settling on nothing for a moment while the gears turned before you looked up at her, “I mean… I kinda just figured I was? It’s not like either of us are out there with other people, and we do kinda already live together.”

“I guess you’re right.” She laughed, happily reaching out to link her arm in yours and you leant in for a quick kiss, her lips smiling against yours.

“So next time he’s bugging you about it, remind him that you have a girlfriend and he doesn’t, so he can shove it.” You smirked, the tease evident in your voice and she laughed, following you up to the house and through the doorway. “I said I would do dinner, you still okay with salmon?”

“Yes.” She smiled, “and thank you. I still have a slew of Georgetown emails I need to sort through.”

“Not without your glasses, you don’t.” You warned, “I don’t need that headache turning into a migraine.”

“What?” She glanced up at you, curiosity written on her face, “how did—”

“I just know.” You assured her with a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

You should have known that going shopping with Emily would end up like this. You needed a couple of new work shirts, maybe a new pair of shoes. It was supposed to be quick and to the point. Instead you ended up at lunch halfway through the day and that lunch was more liquid than actual food. So there was no way in hell she was letting you walk past a lingerie store.

You got home before Alex, who was still out with a couple of friends. You honestly felt like you hadn’t seen her in weeks despite living together. She’d been lecturing this week and the BAU had picked up a case in Atlanta, splitting the two of you up except for last night when you’d gotten home totally wiped and headed straight to bed. You figured you could use that to your advantage, and that Alex wasn’t about to complain about it either.

You heard the door open, Alex toeing off her shoes and setting down her things about an hour later.

“Hey.” You called from the kitchen, pulling down a second glass to fill with rose.

“How was shopping?” She called back from the entry way and you smirked.

“Bought you something.”

“Oh?” She asked, her brow scrunching as she rounded the corner and then her head tilted in acknowledgement at the sight of you wrapped in one of your satin robes. While you did throw them on pretty frequently, over swim suits, when you simply couldn’t be bothered to get dressed yet, when clothes were annoying but it was too early for pj’s, she could still tell what you had in mind. “What did you get?”

“You’re gonna have to come over here and unwrap it to find out.”

“Well I certainly like the sound of that.” Grinning she closed the space between the two of you, only pausing to cup your cheeks in her hands as she greeted you with a kiss. One that you melted into, lips quickly parting to let her tongue into your mouth, groaning softly over how much you’d missed her even in a short time. Her fingers slipped into the satin bow, untangling the knot so the robe could fall open. She broke the kiss so her eyes could drag down your body, admiring the intricate lilac design, “now that is something else…”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way her eyes darkened, her hands unable to resist reaching out to trace the lace against your body. You let the robe drop down your arms, tossing it to an empty chair so you could do a little turn, giving her the whole show.

“You like it?”

“Very much.” Her hands settled on your waist, pulling you back to her for another kiss as your arms wound around her.

“Good.”

“You happen to get anything else I might like?”

“Oh just a few little things.” You smirked, “you’ll get to see the lingerie one at a time.”

“Shame. I was hoping for a fashion show.”

“Mmm… maybe that could be arranged.” You grinned as Alex’s lips kissed across your collarbone and up your neck, “but for now… be happy Emily knows her way around a toy store.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She chuckled, her breath hot on her skin, “what did you have in mind?” Your breath caught in your throat as her hands glided up your sides.

“That blue toy…” You murmured, fingers digging into her shoulders as her teeth nipped at your neck.

“Yes.. that one does have a nice little feature we haven’t used yet.”

“Well…” you let out a small gasp when she bit harder onto your neck, “picked up a couple of flavours of lube, thought we might use one?”

“Mmm..” Alex pulled herself from your neck, her finger curling under your chin to tilt your head up to her, a wild grin on her lips. “You want mommy to come inside you? Fill that pretty little pussy up?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Suppose Em can’t complain about me marking you like this. Smart.”

“No. She definitely can’t.”

“What flavours do we have? I do think you’d taste particularly delicious with a hint of strawberry.” Your eyes widened slightly, Alex so incredibly in tune to you already that your brains were on the same thinking paths. She chuckled softly, pinching at your chin to bring you back to earth, “well, don’t keep mommy waiting now. You’re usually such a good girl for me.”

It was Alex’s turn to show off her cooking skills for an at home date night this week, whipping up an incredible carbonara and homemade garlic bread. You clinked wine glasses in celebration of another weekend able to be spent together, and her delicious cooking, eating at the kitchen island. You told old stories, getting to know each other on an even deeper level and you couldn’t help but let your admiration grow as Alex laughed over something in her past. She glanced over to you, an incredibly warm smile on her cheeks as she noticed you watching, chin in your palm, lost in her words. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to, she didn’t have to ask what, she simply leaned over, leaving a tender kiss on your lips.

You insisted on cleaning up since she was the one who cooked, though it didn’t take you long. Alex was one of the clean as you go types. She made sure that your wine glasses were refilled and stayed in the kitchen with you until you were done and you didn’t mind the fact that she kept distracting you, making it take longer than it would have otherwise.

The two of you retired to the couch, Alex picking up the remote so you could decide what you were watching and you nestled into her side, letting out a happy hum when she wrapped her arm around you. You made a little noise to turn down the first option she paused on and she chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before selecting a different option.

The movie played on, a little bit in the background at first as you continued conversations from dinner, laughing over jokes as you relaxed into each other. It was during a quiet moment in the second half that Alex spoke, her eyes not drifting from the screen as her hand ran up and down your arm.

“Did you have plans with Em this weekend? I was thinking we should go see the cherry blossoms, walk around the park?” When you didn’t reply right away she tore her eyes from the screen, glancing down at you and realized your breathing was deep and even, your head tucked right into the crook of her neck and she chuckled softly.

She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, very carefully shifting on the couch so she could stretch out her legs, resting against the arm. She pulled down the blanket from the back of the couch, making sure it was tucked neatly around you as she readjusted you onto her chest. You let out a little sigh at the movement but didn’t stir otherwise and she couldn’t help but smile. Warmth bloomed through her chest, knowing there was absolutely no other way she would rather spend her Friday night than exactly like this.

____________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #alex blake series #criminal minds #love comes quietly #alex blake: criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #alex blake fanfic

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15minlatewithbatbucks · 5 months

Text

no choice but to love you pt. 9

The hour that Bruce wiggled into his otherwise busy schedule seemed to fly by. He talked with Janet and Tim off and on and managed to hammer out some joint expectations for Tim’s future – private schools, not boarding schools and agreeing to let Tim continue to work with his tutors.

Personally, Bruce thought a five year old was a little young for private tutors, but Tim seemed generally positive about them and he could read and write very well for his age.

Just as Janet had predicted, Tim warmed up to Bruce after he selected a picture of a brontosaurus to color. To Janet’s surprise, he sat on the floor beside the table, uncaring of how it might ruin the lines of his suit. She didn’t partake but she did hand them both juice boxes when they took a short break to get to the really important topics, like favorite colors and favorite insects.

(Red and the Black Swallowtail, for future reference.)

(Seeing his subtle confusion over such an incredibly specific insect, especially after Tim hit him with a full infodump, Janet explained that Tim had only recently found out that New Jersey had a state butterfly. He took it to heart and repped it just as any Gothamite repped the Gotham Gaslamps. Otherwise, his favorite was the taxi cab beetle.)

It was hard not to be ridiculously charmed, Bruce found. Tim shared well, but as Bruce noted before, he was a very particular child. Polite, of course, but particular.

His crayons had to go back into the box just so, but anyone could use them as long as they didn’t break them or put them away. Tim explained that he could sharpen the crayons, so Bruce had to give them back if he wanted them sharpened. He had a system and that was understandable. Jason also had a system when it came to his books and his reading pile.

“Talia has dinner plans tonight,” Bruce mentioned as Janet gathered the coloring books back up and Tim slid the last of his crayons back into their box. He knew that he was rushing things a little bit here, but he’d honestly had fun and didn’t want this little delightful boy to leave.

If Lucius wouldn’t skin him for it, Bruce would have told his assistant to cancel the rest of his meetings for the day.

“Usually I would just throw some sandwiches together for Jason and I – Alfred has Wednesday evenings off – but maybe we can arrange something so the boys can meet,” he finished. Dick wouldn’t be visiting until the weekend, but he did speak with his first son this morning about Tim.

Bruce hadn’t appreciated the derisive laughter, but after all the safe sex talks he’d given Dick, he couldn’t really defend himself. He should have insisted on a condom although at the moment he would say otherwise.

Janet straightened, pulling the tote bag back over her shoulder. She looked surprised.

“Tonight?” she asked. “That’s pretty soon, but… Well, I guess there’s no use putting things off, I suppose. Do you have a place in mind?”

“Jason won’t go for anything fancy. There’s a diner on West 84th that he really likes. I could send you the directions?” he offered. He intentionally didn’t mention the threat of gossip rag reporters hanging around the higher end dining establishments of Gotham. He knew that this wasn’t Janet’s first rodeo, even if there was a baby on board this time.

And besides, Louie’s Diner was a great place to take kids.

“As long as they have chicken tenders or chicken nuggets,” Janet said. “Or fries. Tim isn’t usually picky, but sometimes…”

“It’ll be a lot going on for one day,” Bruce finished, correctly assuming the path of her thoughts. It was disheartening, but… “We don’t have to.”

“No, no,” she said thoughtfully, raising her arm to let Tim slide in under it. He plastered himself to her side and she looked down at him consideringly. “He’s in good spirits today. We can try for a nap at home and it’ll be fine. Will you nap for Mommy, Tim?”

Tim nodded against her hip and turned to bury his face against her. She pat his head consolingly.

“I’m not sleepy, but I’ll try,” Tim mumbled. “I want to meet Jason. And I want chicken nuggets.”

“They have chicken tenders,” Bruce said when Janet glanced at him in askance.

“Do they have honey mustard? It has to be the honey kind,” he dictated, peeking out a bit.

“I know they have mustard, but I don’t know if it’s the honey kind. Jason likes their barbecue sauce,” he offered. Tim’s face screwed up a little.

“That’ll do, I guess.”

Bruce mentally resolved to call ahead and ask. If they didn’t have honey mustard, he’d just text Janet and find out what Tim preferred and bring it himself.

Janet pursed her lips. It was a toss up whether she wanted to laugh or continue worrying. “We’ll plan on meeting tonight and I’ll let you know if anything changes, okay?”

“Sounds great,” Bruce agreed and reluctantly showed them out. Emma stopped the mother and son to ply Tim with more little candies. Feeling very normal, Bruce watched them as they departed.

#my writing tag #fic: no choice but to love you #janet drake #tim drake #bruce wayne

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atlafan · 1 year

Text

She Was There - Part One

a/n: This fic has everything: single dad!harry, psychiatrist!harry, a live-in nanny, a slight age gap (she/s 27/28 and he’s like 37), Harry is a dom, but also a switch, and the slowest of burns! There are 11 parts of this up on my Patreon. The series is officially done, so I’m posting the first part here for yall to get a taste. If you want to read the other 10 parts, it’s only $5.00 on my Patreon. My peeps on there really enjoyed this story, so I hope you do too! Please reblog!!! Leave me notes and comments!!! Come to my inbox to give me your thoughts!!!

Warnings: none! this is only the beginning 😈😈😈

Words: 2.8K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Aubrey Williams)

Being a single father is hard. It’s even harder when you work more than sixty hours a week, and your three kids are all under the age of ten. It’s karma. It has to be. Harry only had to be a dad every other weekend because the children lived three hours away with their mother, but she recently passed so now the kids are living with him full time. He was able to take a sabbatical from work, thank God, but he’s due to return in a few weeks and he still hasn’t found a nanny for the kids.

He thought of just finding an after-school sitter, but he knows that when he goes back to work, he won’t have the time in the morning to make breakfast and lunches, and get the kids ready for school. His ex-wife was getting enough alimony and child support so she didn’t have to work. The kids didn’t need anyone extra.

It was difficult at first. Harry mourned the loss of his ex-wife, but he needed to stay strong for children. She was gone now, forever. They got divorced for a reason, but she was still the mother of his children. The ache he was feeling was normal. Luckily, the kids didn’t mind moving in with Harry. He enrolled them all in a private school, he figured they could use a little extra structure, and he also just wanted to give them the very best. He felt guilty for basically being an absentee father since the divorce.

Maddie is ten, she’s the oldest, Cole is eight, and Sean is six. Each child an even bigger surprise than the last, but a blessing nonetheless. That was the one thing Harry and his ex-wife agreed on the most. No matter how much they fought, they made sure to put the kids first.

But now Harry has to get back to work because he would like to continue to provide for his children without eating into his savings. He can’t exactly do his work from home now that they’re living with him, so he has to go to his office. Many of Harry’s patients have been seeing Niall while he’s been gone. Niall’s been a wonderful help to Harry. It’s not easy being a psychiatrist, nor is it easy to take on someone else’s patients for an extended period of time.

Harry’s been interviewing plenty of nannies, but he wants to make sure the kids feel comfortable with the hire, and none of them have clicked yet. Most days, the kids whine that they don’t want Harry to go back to work, which breaks his heart. But he didn’t spend four years in undergrad, four years in medical school, and another four years in a residency program to not be a practicing psychiatrist. He and Niall own their practice together, and have a few other colleagues that they’ve hired on. They do quite well.

After another failed interview, Harry’s not sure what he’s going to do. He contemplates maybe doing telehealth appointments, but he really doesn’t want to do that kind of work at home.

Later that night as he makes his way up to bed, he finds his three children fast asleep on his mattress. He pouts at how cute they are all snuggled up together. He gets in on his side after washing up, and Sean makes his way to cuddle up close to him. Harry sighs and puts his arm around his son. He needs to figure something out, and soon.

***

Burning the candle at both ends isn’t sustainable. But Aubrey isn’t sure what else she can do right now. She’s been living in a hotel for the last two weeks, and that isn’t exactly cheap. She barely even has time to enjoy the soft mattress with how much she’s been working. But when you catch your boyfriend cheating on you in your own home, you leave before he has a chance to give you some bullshit excuse.

“I told you, you can crash on my couch for as long as you need.” Sidney tells Aubrey over coffee on Sunday morning.

“No, I don’t want to put you out.”

“You know…my boss’ associate has been in the market for a live-in nanny.”

“That sounds like it could get messy. I feel like the wife always gets jealous.”

“He’s a widower.” Sidney whispers. “And on top of that, they were divorced, so it’s not like he’s sobbing over how much he loved her. He’s been at home for months taking care of his kids. They lived with the mom full time and only saw him every other weekend.”

“How many does he have?”

“Three, all of them are in elementary school. My boss has been taking on all his clients to help out, but I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep helping. You’re so good with kids, Aubrey. You were always the most sought-after babysitter.”

“Babysitting and being a nanny are two different things. Especially if I’d be living there. What if the kids hate me?”

“Aubrey, who could ever hate you?” Sidney asks flatly. “Do you want me to ask my boss for more information? He thinks very highly of my opinion.”

“That’s because you suck his dick every other day.”

“Shh!” Sidney swats at her friend. “I told you that in confidence. No one knows, and no one needs to know.”

“Mhm.” Aubrey rolls her eyes. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to have more information. It would be a better job than working at a 24-hour diner.” She sighs.

“I’ll see what I can do. As good as the coffee and the free breakfast is here, you deserve better.”

“Thanks, Sid.”

***

A few nights later, Niall brings over Chinese food for Harry and the kids. Harry’s eternally grateful, and the kids are overjoyed about the food.

“So, Sidney, you know Sidney…” Niall starts as he and Harry clean up in the kitchen.

“She’s your assistant who gives the good head.” Harry smirks.

“Exactly.” Niall nods. “But don’t say that out loud again. Anyways, she has this friend Aubrey who needs a job. She caught her boyfriend cheating on her, and they worked together, so she had to quit her job, and it was this whole thing. She’s been living in a hotel, and it’s starting to add up. Sidney told me Aubrey’s great with kids.”

“Does she have any experience as a nanny?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then how could I trust her with my kids?”

“Could you just give her an interview? She and Sidney are close, and Sidney’s been worried about her.”

“And you care because…?” Harry smirks.

“Don’t make me say it.” Niall groans. “Please, H?”

“Alright, I’ll give her an interview. But if the kids don’t like her, I’m not hiring her.”

“Deal.”

***

Aubrey’s mouth is agape as she pulls up to Harry’s home. It’s fucking huge. Sidney should have prepared her more. She takes a sip of water before getting out of her car. She makes her way up to the door and takes a deep breath. She rings the bell, and a moment later, an older woman opens it.

“Hello.” Aubrey smiles. “I’m here for an interview.”

“Hi.” The woman smiles. “I’m the kids’ grandmother. Harry had to go into the office today.”

“Oh.” Aubrey nods.

“He said it would be alright if I conducted the interview, please come in.” She steps aside and lets Aubrey in. “My name’s Millie.”

“I’m Aubrey, it’s nice to meet you.” Aubrey shakes her hand. “This is a gorgeous house.”

“Isn’t it? Harry bought it after the divorce. Believe it or not, when he was married, the house he had was even larger. His ex had extravagant taste.” Millie shakes her head. “God rest her soul.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, that must have been really hard.”

“It was a total shock, but that’s life.” She sighs. “Anyways, Harry asked me to give you a tour of the home, and then you can meet the kids. They’ll be home from school soon.”

Aubrey nods, and politely follows Millie around the home. She wouldn’t have her own section of the home to herself, but she’d have her own room and bathroom, so that would be good. Millie explains that the job would include some light housework, mostly for the children. Laundry, afterschool snacks, breakfast, and lunches. Aubrey would also need to help with homework, baths, and bedtime. It wasn’t anything that scared Aubrey. It all seemed pretty standard.

Around 3PM, the kids get home from school. Millie tasked Aubrey with making a healthy snack for the kids while she greeted them at the door.

“Okay, kids, this is Miss Aubrey Williams.” Millie smiles.

Aubrey pouts at the three children. They’re way cuter than she was expecting.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all. What are your names?” Aubrey asks softly.

“I’m Maddie.” Maddie hops up onto the stool at the kitchen island, and grabs one of the slices of apple covered in peanut butter that Aubrey set up. “That’s Cole, and the one clinging to Mimi’s leg is Sean.”

“They call you Mimi? That’s adorable.”

“Grandma didn’t have the right ring to it.” Millie laughs and helps Cole and Sean up onto the other stools. “Maddie is ten, she’s in fourth grade, Cole is eight, he’s in second, and Sean is six, he’s in first.”

“Wow, you all are so close in age.” Aubrey smiles. “That’s nice. Do you like your school? I know it’s still new.”

“It’s okay.” Maddie shrugs. “Could I have some juice, please?”

Aubrey looks at Millie, and Millie nods, so Aubrey grabs three Capri Suns out of the fridge. Maddie automatically helps Cole and Sean with their pouches.

“Do you like the uniforms?” Aubrey asks.

“I like not having to think about what I’m going to wear when I get up.” Maddie answers.

“Oh, I bet. Do you still get to do what you want with your hair and stuff?”

“I think so.”

“What do you say after you finish your snacks, you all go change into something comfier? You all can watch a little TV to unwind until dinner.” Aubrey tells them.

“You’re not going to make us do our homework right away?” Cole asks, his eyes widening.

“You guys were just in school for, like, eight hours. Your brains need a break. We’ll eat dinner around five, then we’ll do homework, then we’ll wash up before bed. How does that sound?”

“Works for me.” Cole shrugs.

“What’s everyone’s bedtimes?”

“I’ll answer that.” Millie says. “Maddie is allowed to stay up until 9:30, while Cole and Sean go to bed at 8:30.”

“I like to read before bed.” Maddie says. “That’s why Dad lets me stay up later.”

“Yeah? What do you like to read?”

“Babysitter’s Club.”

“Oh, I love that series!” Aubrey beams.

“Kids, go on and change, yeah?” Millie tells them. “And I don’t want to hear anyone fighting over the remote, understand?”

“Yes, Mimi.” The three say in unison before hopping down from their stools.

“They’re so cute.” Aubrey says to Millie.

“Aren’t they?” Millie gushes.

“How have they been doing after losing their mother?”

“As good as they can.” Millie sighs. “Luckily, since Harry’s a psychiatrist, he knows a thing or two about helping children deal with their grief.”

“May I ask…how did she die?”

“It was abrupt. One second, she was fine, and the next she wasn’t. Maddie really stepped up apparently. She’s taken on a lot. I think she’s resentful towards her mother. The boys look up to her, which is good. Honestly, I think it’s been the toughest on Sean. He was a clingy baby, didn’t like to be put down at all. It’s carried over a bit. He’s so sweet, the poor thing. When the kids first moved in with Harry, they slept with him every night. They’ve gotten better, but they still have their nights.”

“Rightfully so. I couldn’t imagine losing one of my parents at such a young age, and then having to move and start all over somewhere new.” Aubrey sighs. “What would get them really excited for dinner?”

“I went shopping earlier this morning, I was planning to make a baked ziti. Would you like to help me make it?”

“Yeah.” Aubrey nods.

The ladies get to work on dinner while the kids watch television. When dinner’s ready, they all sit at the table together and eat. Aubrey asks the kids more questions to get to know them better, and they ask her questions too. Maddie does most of the talking.

Aubrey helps the kids with their homework after dinner while Millie cleans up. She observes her grandchildren as they work with their potential new nanny.

“I was hoping Harry would be home by now, I’m sorry.” Millie says to Aubrey before she leaves.

“It’s okay.”

“I think things went well. I’ll get the debrief from the kids in a bit.”

“Thank you for having me over with them today. I had fun.”

“We’ll let you know one way or the other soon.” Millie smiles, and opens the front door for Aubrey.

Harry doesn’t get home until around nine. He apologizes profusely to his mother, but he explains that he needed to get some writing done and catch up on emails. Maddie stayed up in the living room with her book so she could talk to her father. She comes shuffling into the kitchen where Harry and Millie are talking things over.

“There’s my sweet girl.” Harry smiles and lifts Maddie up to sit on the kitchen island. “You look exhausted.”

“I had gym today.” She shrugs.

“How come you’re not up in bed? I thought you liked to get cozy with your book.”

“I do, but I was waiting up for you.”

“Oh?”

“Hire her.” Maddie says. Harry and Millie look at each other, then back at her. “Cole, Sean, and I talked it over. We like her. Hire her.”

“Just like that?” Harry chuckles.

“Dad, she treated us like people. She asked us questions about things other than what our favorite subjects in school are. She let us watch TV after snack, she helped us with our homework, and she even got Sean to sleep without having to cradle him like a baby.”

“You all felt comfortable with her? Remember, she’d be living with us.”

“Hire her.” Maddie hops down from the counter. “We haven’t liked anyone else, and we won’t like anyone else you bring in. We want Aubrey.”

“Mimi?” Harry looks at his mother.

“I liked her a lot. I looked over her resume, same as you, and I think she’s more than qualified. She was sweet with the kids. And as much as I’ve loved being here, I’m itching to get back to Florida. So, I agree with Maddie. Hire her.”

#she was there #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #friends to lovers #slow burn #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #singledad!harry #doctor!harry #dom!harry #switch!harry

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Special Girl - Part 3

Summary: You arrived at Harvard as a shy, nerdy girl. You never thought a guy like Lloyd Hansen would notice you. But Lloyd saw you—really saw you—and for a time you became his special girl. Now, years later, you’re stuck in a sexless marriage. Unloved and unfucked for months, you’ve decided enough is enough. The fact that Lloyd has been keeping tabs on you for years has nothing to do with it… or does it?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: DUBCON (alcohol use/manipulation); INCREDIBLY unsafe/unhealthy/deadass wrong BDSM practices (Lloyd doesn’t do safewords or aftercare); plus-sized reader/fatphobia; cheating; degradation; bondage, spanking/whipping, gagging; knife kink; blood kink; CNC roleplay; gunplay; rough oral (m receiving); explicit sex (O,V,A); unprotected sex (Lloyd doesn’t wear condoms, ok?); unwanted pregnancies/abortion; physical intimidation/abuse; general toxicity; Lloyd is a psycho and he’s fucking mean—Dead Dove Do Not Eat! 18+ only, no minors.

Series Masterlist

Part Three

You wake in the morning to an empty bed. You don’t know where Michael is staying and you don’t care, because this morning you don’t have to put his dirty boxers in the hamper or make his breakfast or pour his coffee. This morning all you have to do is take care of your son and prepare yourself for the rest of your life.

Harrison is unfazed by Michael’s absence. He seems happier even; he doesn’t even make a fuss about going to school. You spend your Thursday running errands, but they’re you errands: an emergency hair appointment, a mani/pedi, a long-overdue bikini wax, and some shopping. You buy yourself some lingerie: the kind so sheer and skimpy that it’s easily shredded at the hands of a determined man. You buy yourself a new dress: tight with a high thigh-slit. You’re going for tastefully slutty—something that whispers “fuck me” instead of shouts it, not that you’d ever have to tell Lloyd twice. He’s fucked you when you didn’t even ask for it at all, when you didn’t even know you wanted it. Because you always want it from him; he knew it then and he knows it now.

You contemplate making him wait until Saturday, leaving him questioning whether or not you’re going to show up, but of course you won’t. You know you’ll barely make it through the rest of Thursday and the day on Friday, and he’s probably watching you anyway. He probably knows Michael is gone. He probably even knows what you bought to wear for him. You should be embarrassed but you’re too fuck-starved to care. So what if he thinks you’re desperate? You are. You are so fucking desperate for Lloyd to throw a fuck into you that you’d do anything, anything, to have him again.

When you think back on the time you spent with Lloyd—those two years of college you spent getting your body and your heart broken over and over and coming back for more—it makes you wonder how much he’s changed. He can’t possibly have changed much considering his line of work, which you shouldn’t know about but you do because Shay works at the CIA and you’ve kept in touch over the years. She’s the one who told you that Lloyd only made it five and a half months before he was deemed too much of a liability. It doesn’t surprise you really. Lloyd doesn’t like rules and the CIA has a lot of them. As for his current line of work… you can’t say that you approve, but the man has always had certain niche interests and a very specific skill set. At least he found something to do with them. He’s not a sociopath like they say he is; he hurts bad guys—people who deserve it.

Of course, you of all people know that isn’t true, but it’s a lie you have to tell yourself.

Once Harrison is asleep, you call your mother and ask her to take him for the weekend. There’s no point in lying to her. “Michael and I are having some problems,” you say. “He’s moved out and there are some things we need to discuss without Harrison here.”

Of course your mother agrees, and she sounds sad to hear about the deterioration of your marriage. You’d kept your unhappiness from her like you’d kept it from everyone else but your shrink, and you know how much she likes Michael. But at the end of the day, you're her daughter and she’ll always take your side.

“I just… I hope you two can work something out. I know how much he adores you.”

“He doesn’t,” you say. “Not anymore. He told me to my face he doesn’t want me, so I think that’s quite clear.”

“That just doesn’t make any sense, sweetheart,” she says and you can hear the confusion in her voice. “Just a couple of months ago he was making all sorts of plans for your anniversary, some big trip he wanted to take you on.”

“Well things change, Mom. I can’t explain it. I just know that he doesn’t love me anymore and I’m not going to waste any more time in a loveless marriage.”

“Well at least try to get to the bottom of it this weekend when you talk to him. Something must have happened. A man doesn’t just fall out of love like that for no reason.”

You sigh. “It doesn’t matter what the reason is. I really don’t care. It’s a relief, honestly. At this point I just… I want something different. I want something more.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she says.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “Just pick up Harrison from school tomorrow and I’ll pick him up Sunday night, ok?”

“Anything you need,” she says. “Dad and I are here.”

You tell your mother you love her and she says it back, and now you’re officially free and clear for the weekend. No husband. No kid. Nothing to do but whatever the fuck you want, and what you want to do is Lloyd Hansen.

The last thing on your Friday to-do list before preparing to meet Lloyd is your appointment with your therapist. You’d purposely scheduled it two days after D-day because you knew there’d be much to discuss, one way or the other. Dr. Baker greets you and ushers you into her office, tastefully decorated with minimalist furniture and a slate-blue and white color palette. You sit on the couch across from her and dive right in.

“I kicked Michael out,” you say. “He finally admitted that he doesn’t want me anymore and I told him we were done.”

“You don’t seem particularly upset about that,” she replies.

“I’m not. I’m relieved, honestly. It’s not like it wasn’t fairly obvious. At least now I know for sure and I can move on.”

“I want to explore this sense of relief you’re feeling,” Dr. Baker says. “We’ve talked about how you felt trapped in your marriage, even before you and your husband stopped being intimate—how you were never really satisfied physically or emotionally in your relationship, how you have certain needs that weren’t being met.”

“Marrying him was a mistake,” you say. “I knew it then. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to give me what I needed and I married him anyway because… I don’t know… I thought maybe if he loved me enough, he’d be willing to try.”

“When you say ‘try,” you’re referring to his being unwilling or unable to be more experimental when it came to sex—to be more dominant?”

“Yes,” you reply. “He just… he wasn’t into it. It scared him, and he made me feel bad for wanting certain things, so I just stopped asking. I settled.”

“Well, we’ve discussed how the desires you feel are perfectly normal, but it’s also worth noting that it’s ok for him to not want to engage in sexual activities that make him uncomfortable. It’s just a matter of sexual incompatibility, and that’s not really anyone’s fault. You’re not wrong for wanting the things that you want, and he’s not wrong for not wanting that.”

“I don’t blame him for that part,” you say. “I blame myself for choosing someone I knew couldn’t satisfy me.”

“And why do you think you made that choice?” she asks—and, though you try to be as truthful as possible in your sessions, that’s the question you simply will not answer.

“I don’t know,” you lie.

“Well, generally when a person makes a choice that they know will actively harm them or impede their future happiness, they are trying to punish themselves for something, consciously or subconsciously.”

You curse yourself for selecting a therapist who’s actually smart and good at her job. “Well, if that’s what I did, it was a subconscious choice,” you lie again.

“OK,” she says. “Let’s back up a bit. We’ve talked briefly about your previous relationships—specifically your first real relationship, in college.”

“Lloyd,” you say, and you can’t help the little smile that plays at the corner of your mouth when you say his name.

“Yes,” she says. “Lloyd. From what you’ve told me, that was a very toxic situation.”

“I suppose,” you say, “but I was young. We both were.”

“Still,” she says, “I think that relationship may have done more lasting damage than you realize.”

“If you’re implying that I was looking to replicate my relationship dynamic with Lloyd with Michael…” You can’t even finish that sentence because you’re laughing too hard. Once you get your giggles under control, you continue. “Michael is the polar opposite of Lloyd in every possible way.”

“Exactly,” she replies. “And don’t you think that may have had something to do with why you chose him?”

“Look,” you say. “I see what you’re getting at here, and maybe there is something to it, but I don’t see how any of this matters now. Shouldn’t we be talking about the future? I’d much rather you help me make a plan to move forward with my life than to rake me over the coals for choices I made when I was 18 years old.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “But I think it’s worth putting some thought into on your own, if only so you don’t repeat your past mistakes.”

“Lloyd wasn’t a mistake,” you snap, and you can feel yourself losing control of your emotions but you can’t help it. “I learned things about myself from him that no one else ever could have taught me.”

“He hurt you.” She’s using her concerned doctor voice and it’s pissing you the fuck off. “And I’m not talking about the sexual aspect of your relationship, although we’ve discussed how deeply unsafe and unhealthy those practices were.”

“He can’t help it,” you say. “He hurts people. It’s what he does. I knew that and I chose to keep coming back. Because he was worth it—he was worth all that pain. And a part of me… I liked it.”

Dr. Baker sighs. “That’s what concerns me,” she says. “Going forward, rebuilding your life, I’d like to see you making good choices—choices that will bring you happiness and satisfaction with your life—but these masochistic tendencies of yours run so much deeper than just your sexual urges.”

Before she even finished her sentence, you know this will be your last session with Dr. Baker, and you decide to go out swinging.

“Lloyd is my son’s father,” you tell her, waiting for the reaction to your reveal to hit her face but she keeps herself composed—ever the professional. “But even before that, we were connected in a way you could never possibly understand. And he’s back now. And he wants to see me. And I’m going to see him. Tonight, actually. I’m going to leave this office and go home and shower and get ready and then I’m going to drive to D.C. and I’m going to give him anything he wants, let him do anything he wants to me, and maybe he’s going to hurt me, but I’m going to like it. I’m going to feel alive. That’s who Lloyd is to me. I’ve been fucking suffocating for years and that man is my oxygen.”

Dr. Baker keeps a professional demeanor, keeps the calm on her face, but you can sense her irritation and frustration under the surface. “Well, I can see you’ve made your choice,” she says. “And I don’t supposed I can change your mind.”

“No,” you reply. “You can’t.”

“Please just… be careful. It’s unprofessional for me to say this, but since I have the sneaking suspicion that I won’t be seeing you again, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I think this man is incredibly dangerous. I think he’s bad for you, and I think that it’s very possible he will ruin any chance you have of making a happy life for yourself going forward. He’s not oxygen; he’s a drug. He’s poison.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Doc,” you reply, grabbing your purse and standing up, “and you’re probably right, but it’s my life, and I’d rather drink his poison than die of fucking boredom.”

You feel bad leaving it like that because Dr. Baker is a good doctor. She could have helped you if you’d let her, and for a while she did help you—she helped you find the strength to leave Michael, she helped you realize that you wanted more out of life. But she can’t help you anymore. There’s only one person in the world who can help you now and you know he’s close—watching, waiting.

***

With your virginity a thing of the past, things escalated quickly with Lloyd. But there were rules—for you, not for him, of course. Rule #1: you came when he called. It didn’t matter what you were doing or how important it was; if Lloyd sent for you, you showed up exactly when and where he wanted. Rule #2: you didn’t talk about him with anyone. You weren’t allowed to tell Shay or anyone else that you were seeing each other. You had to lie about where you were going and what you were doing and with whom. Rule #3: you were only allowed at the Phoenix once a month, on a night of his choosing. You were correct in assuming that the blonde hanging off of him at beer pong that night was his girlfriend, but Lloyd assured you it was mostly for show—that she was the type of girl his parents and the other guys expected him to have around, and that appearances were important in his circle. Rule #4: you weren’t allowed to date anyone else, not that you wanted to. You were Lloyd’s and Lloyd’s alone.

The most important rule was the last: you didn’t say no to Lloyd Hansen. You were to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and without complaint. This should have scared you but it didn’t, because all you wanted to do was please him. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for him if he wanted it—no line you wouldn’t cross to show him that you were his special girl. Whatever it takes, you’d told yourself, to make him love you.

Because you were desperately, irrevocably, painfully in love with Lloyd Hansen, though you didn’t dare tell him that. He knew, though. Of course he knew. He liked it that way: you completely obsessed with him, ready and willing at all times, just waiting and waiting for him to show you he felt one shred of what you felt for him. But Lloyd didn’t do feelings—he’d told you that, too. “Don’t expect flowers and poetry from me, Porkchop,” he’d told you the night he fucked you for the first time. “That’s not my style.” But he had other ways of showing you how much he wanted you, how much he appreciated you. If that was as close as Lloyd came to love, you would take it.

Things started to get really intense a few weeks into spring term of your freshman year. By then, you had grown accustomed to sex with Lloyd. Your body had molded itself to fit him, and he’d fucked you hard and rough and made you cum in every possible position. But it wasn’t enough for him. After he’d broken you in, after it stopped hurting and he saw how much you enjoyed it—how you got off even harder when he’d choke you or bite you or slap you around—he started to get bored.

One Tuesday night you were in the library working on a paper when you got a text from him: Dunster. 20 minutes. It wasn’t unusual for him not to give you any notice. 20 minutes was almost generous. You packed up your things quickly and headed to Lloyd’s suite, the crimson tie on the outer doorknob assuring you that his suitemates would not be interrupting you. He lived with 3 other guys on the football team, one of whom was a Phoenix, but they didn’t acknowledge you when you saw them around campus. You knew they knew who you were, but rules were rules and you always pretended you didn’t exist when Lloyd’s friends or teammates were nearby.

You knocked on the door and Lloyd answered in just a towel, his hair still wet and dripping down his cut chest and abs. You still went dumb at the sight of Lloyd’s body, and you’d never tire of seeing it or feeling it.

“Right on time,” he said. “Good girl. Get in here.”

You walked through the common area to his bedroom, and when Lloyd opened the door you saw a number of things laid out on his bed. It looked like a sex shop exploded onto his bedspread and your eyes went wide. You took in Lloyd’s haul: a blindfold, leather handcuffs, a ball gag, three bundles of red rope, a number of different whipping devices, a vibrator, and a butt plug with what looked like some sort of tail.

“I thought we might try something new today,” he said, “and since you were such a good girl and got here on time, I’m going to let you choose—do you want to get tied up, or are you finally gonna let me fuck your ass?”

Lloyd was obsessed with your ass—spanking it, eating it, finger-fucking it—and he’d almost stuck his dick in there the previous week. Techincally, he did—just the tip—and he claimed he’d missed while he was fucking you doggy. You’d screamed when he breached you there and you didn’t think he was going to stop but he did, telling you he’d save that for another time, though he’d warned you he wouldn’t wait too long. It’s the thing you feared most, the thing you really did not want to do, and you had to admit you were curious about what it would feel like to be tied up, so that’s what you chose.

“Goddammit, I knew I shouldn’t have give you the option,” he said, but still he smiled at you with that devious little twinkle in his eye. “That’s what I get for being a gentleman. But this will be fun, too. Take off your clothes.” You did as he commanded, and when you were naked, he picked up one of the bundles of rope. “Get on the bed. Lay on your stomach.”

You thought he was just going to tie you to the headboard or something, but you realized fairly quickly that Lloyd had much more complex plans for you. He placed your hands behind your back and bound your wrists together, then he moved on to your ankles, and then he connected the two with the third cord of rope. He didn’t ask if the ropes were too tight (they were, a little) and you knew better than to question him, and before you knew it you were face down and hogtied on Lloyd’s bed. You craned your neck to look up at him and you saw the tent growing under his towel.

“Fuck, you look pretty all trussed up like this. I knew you would.”

He grabbed the gag and moved to place it around your head and the panic started to set in—the realization that you wouldn’t be able to speak at all once he had that thing in your mouth. “Wait,” you said. “Sorry, I just-”

Lloyd stopped your words with one raised eyebrow. “You just what, Porkchop? This was your idea, remember?”

“I just… I mean… shouldn’t we have like a safeword or a signal or something like that?”

Lloyd just laughed. “Safewords are for pussies. I know my girl can take it, and you trust me, don’t you? You know I always make it hurt real good, right?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” he said, kneeling down next to the bed and grabbing your face in one big hand. He kissed you deeply, the feel of his tongue and the sounds of his moans in your mouth distracting you from the harsh angle of your neck craning in his direction. When he pulled out of the kiss, he smiled. “Now open your mouth.”

You spent the next half-hour (though it felt like an eternity) bound and gagged, face down on the bed with a Hitachi wand against your clit as Lloyd used a flogger on you. Your ass and thighs were burning and your pussy was swollen to the point of pain, but he wouldn’t let you cum. Every time you got close, he just knew, and he took the wand away and slapped your pussy hard with his hand.

“You cum on my dick, or you don’t cum at all,” he’d say each time, and when he would return the wand to its torturous position between your clit and the bed beneath you, he’d mock you for how wet you were. “Such a fucking slut,” he’d say. “Such a little whore for me. I don’t know what’s crying harder, your eyes or your cunt.”

Your jaw ached from the gag inside, your muscles were screaming from your binds stretching them, the flesh of your ass and your upper thighs felt like a raw nerve each time he smoothed his hands over it. You didn’t think you could take anymore, but you couldn’t move or speak. You had no choice but to trust him—to give yourself over to him completely and take whatever he gave you. So that’s what you did, and once you made the decision that your body belonged to Lloyd and not to you, you started to feel everything and nothing at all. You felt like you were floating just a few inches above yourself, and your brain knew that your body hurt but you couldn’t feel it anymore. All you could feel was Lloyd.

All of a sudden, you couldn’t feel the wand anymore and Lloyd’s fingers were at the back of your head, unbuckling the gag before he pulled it from your mouth.

He chuckled and asked, “You still in there?” but your jaw was too sore and your throat too raw from screaming into it to answer. “You’re doing so well for me, Porkchop. Such a good little slut.”

You heard the words but it sounded like he was underwater. You focused on gulping down as much air as you could now that your mouth was free because you knew it wouldn’t be for long. Lloyd repositioned you so that you were still on your stomach but your head was hanging off the bed, and then he stood in front of you, cock hard and angry in his hand. He slapped your cheek with it a few times and he didn’t have to tell you what to do because you knew; you were conditioned. Your mouth and your throat opened for him automatically and your eyes rolled back in your head as he held your face in his hands and fucked it.

You took what he wanted to give you even though you were desperate to have him between your legs. You always did love the feel of him in your throat, though, and you loved the filthy praise and animal sounds that spilled from his lips when he was balls deep in your gullet. Even tied up and completely helpless with his dick plugging your mouth up, you felt safe with him. He would never really hurt you. If you really wanted him to stop, he would just know and he would. Lloyd Hansen would never let anything bad happen to his special girl.

When he finally took his cock out of your mouth and dropped your head you whined. “More,” you begged, your head hanging off the bed towards the floor, and Lloyd laughed.

“You really are stupid for my dick, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you said.

You heard the snick of a pocket knife opening and the rope between your wrists and ankles released. Your legs flopped down onto the bed and you groaned with how good it felt to straighten them. You turned your head to the side and saw the knife flash as he flipped it in his hand and then he bent over and cut the rope around your ankles. You waited for him to do your wrists but he didn’t; instead, he got on the bed and grabbed you by your wrist restraints, tugging you up onto your knees as he ghosted the blade’s edge down your upper back.

“Don’t move, Porkchop,” he said. “Wouldn’t want this to slip. I just sharpened it.”

You felt the cold steel move across your right shoulder and down your arm to your wrist where it was bound, then up the other arm and across your left shoulder. You couldn’t help it; you shivered when he touched it to the nape of your neck, and you felt the tiniest prick as it broke the skin. Lloyd moaned and you felt his lips surround the fresh wound, his tongue lapping up your blood. He’d told you many times before, every time he left a fresh mark on you with his teeth or his nails, how sweet your blood tasted to him—”like dessert wine,” he’d said, “I get drunk on you.”

When he finally pushed inside you, you both moaned loud as he buried himself to the hilt in your wet heat. He’d been edging you for so long that it only took a minute of him fucking you rough, with one hand holding the rope at your wrists and the other rubbing your clit, for you to cum so hard you saw stars twinkling behind your eyes. You cried out his name and God’s name over and over as your walls pulsed around him. You’d never cum like that, and you’d understood in that moment the reason for all that torture. Lloyd didn’t want to hurt you; he wanted you to feel this.

But your ass and your thighs were raw from the flogging, and with each hard snap of his hips, his flesh hit yours and it burned so hot you started to get a little dizzy from the pain. Your hands were completely numb and your shoulders felt like they were about to come out of the sockets. You knew you couldn’t say anything about it—that he would be so disappointed in you if you did—but you had to do something.

“Lloyd,” you begged. “I want to see your face. Please.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me fuck my tight little pussy?”

“God, yes. Please.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out just long enough to grab the knife, cut your arms free, turn you over, and throw your legs up onto his broad shoulders before shoving his cock back inside of you. You loved when he fucked you like this, his arms wrapped around your thighs and his hands gripping your flesh as he rolled his hips. He always went a little bit slower in this position, making sure to grind himself deep inside of you and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. He placed one hand around your neck and squeezed, knowing that the combination of his choking you while hitting your g-spot was a surefire way to make you squirt—something you didn’t know was actually possible until he had you in this exact position a few weeks ago.

“You gonna give it to me?” he asked. “You know what I want. Make a fuckin mess.”

You put one of your hands over his on your neck and said, “Harder,” and he squeezed the sides of your throat just right. You clenched down on him when he started to fuck you more vigorously, and the sound of the “fuck” it drew out of him had you soaking his abs and the bed beneath you.

“There it is,” he said. “Such a messy little whore when you cum on my dick.”

“I love it,” you cried out. “I love your fuckin cock. Fuck. I love it. I love you.”

Your eyes shot open and found his when you realized what you’d let slip, but he just kept fucking you with a smirk on his face.

“Oh yeah?” he said, bending you in half and pressing his forehead to yours as he kept pounding you. “How much?”

“I- I-”

“Go on, Porkchop. Tell me how much you love me.”

“So fucking much,” you said. “I love you with everything I have. I’m yours, Lloyd. I’m fucking yours.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice low in your ear, “and I know just how you can prove it to me. But first I’m gonna fill you the fuck up.”

A few more hard thrusts and Lloyd was grunting his climax into your shoulder as he pumped you full of him. When he pulled out, he let his cock flop half-hard and heavy onto your stomach as he leaned over and grabbed the knife off his nightstand.

“You really love me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

He brought the tip of the blade to the side of your left thigh and lightly sliced through the skin. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would—maybe because just about everything on your body was hurting and you weren’t even feeling pain anymore, not the way you’d always known it—and all you could do was watch as he carved LH into your flesh and surrounded it with a crudely-drawn heart. He let the blood drip onto his sheets as he licked the knife clean, and then he pressed his mouth to the place where he’d branded you his forever and he licked and sucked until you thought you might pass out.

Of course, he didn’t give you anything to clean it with or bandage it. He didn’t bring you a towel or a glass of water or some lotion for your burning ass and thighs. He didn’t even pull you against his chest and kiss and cuddle you until you felt ok enough to walk back to your dorm. He just told you it was time to go, that you’d hear from him soon.

“You really did well today,” he said as you reached for the doorknob to the hallway. “I’m impressed, Porkchop, and I’m not easily impressed. You really are something special.”

You left with a pep in your step, because you knew that was Lloyd for “I love you.”

Two weeks later, you were pissing on your fourth EPT stick and this one was no different from the others. Of course you’d gotten knocked up. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened before now with the sheer volume of Lloyd’s seed you’d taken inside you. You knew you needed to tell him, thought that maybe this would be an exception to the rule about contacting him first, so you sent him a text message that just said I’m sorry but I really need to see you.

You waited hours for him to text you back but he didn’t, and you cried yourself to sleep, thankful that Shay was sleeping out with her new boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to lie to her (or worse, tell her the truth). You woke with a start to banging on your door that shook the whole room. The clock read 3:30am and you knew there was only one person it could be. You turned on your desk lamp and opened the door, and Lloyd grabbed you by the shoulders and shoved you inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he hissed. “Did you hit your head and lose half your fucking mind or are you actually just stupid?”

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. It’s just… it’s important.”

“No,” he snapped. “Following the rules is important. That’s the only thing that’s important. But, ok, I’m here now. What the fuck do you want?”

You took a deep breath and let it out and said, “I’m pregnant.”

There was a long pause and then Lloyd threw his head back and cackled until he had tears in his eyes.

“Oh, oh my God.” He swiped his eyes clean and held a hand to his chest. “That’s what you thought was pressing enough to break my rules? Oh, Porkchop. You really had me there for a second.”

“Lloyd, I don’t-”

“Just take care of it,” he spat. “Go get scraped out and lay in bed with some fuckin chicken soup and an US Weekly and deal with it. Jesus.”

You stood there, your mouth catching flies as you tried to think of something to say. You didn’t know how you thought he would react, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“What, you want money?” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket, took out a fad wad of twenties and threw them in your face. “Here. Here’s some fuckin money. Or would you rather I just threw you down the stairs? We can take care of it right now.”

“Lloyd, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“No. Come on. Let me help you.”

Lloyd dragged you out of your room by the arm and walked you toward the stairwell at the end of your dorm hallway. When he got you to the edge, he held you by the back of your neck. Your eyes filled with tears and you wanted to scream but it got caught in your throat. Even then, you didn’t want anyone to hear you; you didn’t want anyone to see.

“So,” he said, still letting you dangle over the top stair. “Are you gonna take care of it, or am I?”

“I will,” you said. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

He pulled you back and you fell into his arms. He held you tight to his chest and stroked your back.

“That’s my girl,” he said, “and you can keep the money, ok?”

“Th-thank you,” you stammered. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Porkchop. Now what did we learn?”

“D- don’t break the rules.” You sniffled against his sweatshirt and you were enveloped in the smell of him. “I shouldn’t have done that. I knew better.” You looked up at him. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Just disappointed.”

You got your first abortion two weeks later. Lloyd wouldn’t speak to you until after it was done. He didn’t come visit you after, either, although he did send one of the punches over with a card that said “Hang in there!” with a kitten dangling precariously from a tree branch. (You still have the card, of course.) All those Lloyd-less days you spent wandering around campus—both before and after—shuttling yourself from class to class like a shell of yourself, you told yourself you’d never speak to him again. You tried to forgive yourself for being young and naive, for falling for him and letting him manipulate you into doing things you knew were stupid and wrong.

But still you found yourself searching him out in crowds, looking for him when you saw a group of upperclassmen guys walking toward the river houses. When you actively tried to forget about him and push him out of your mind, you heard his voice in your head telling you You’re mine. And every time you showered and rubbed your loofah across that LH dug into the flesh of your thigh, you felt your heart beating in it. You knew it was pointless. Lloyd Hansen lived under your skin.

Two weeks to the day after your abortion, you were reading on your bed when Lloyd texted you: Dunster, 1 hour. And you went. Of course you went.

You had no intention of having sex with Lloyd that night, but when you walked into his suite, he kissed you so sweetly and gently that you almost forgot the past month had ever happened. He didn’t apologize for that night in your dorm and you hadn’t expected him to—Lloyd Hansen doesn’t apologize because Lloyd Hansen is never sorry—but he told you that he’d missed you when you were apart, that there was something absent inside of him when you weren’t there. He promised you that what happened would never happen again and that he needed you.

“You’re special to me, Porkchop,” he said. “You know that.”

And that night he made you feel special in ways that only he can. He was gentle with you—no whips or ropes or knives. He fucked you good and deep and slow (and he pulled out long before he came). He even snuggled with you for a while, letting you be little spoon while he kissed your neck and your back and told you you were his perfect girl. And by the time you left his room at 1am, it was like the month before hadn’t happened. All evidence of it had left your body, and one night with Lloyd was enough to put it out of your mind, too.

You spent two years with him like this, the cycle repeating itself over and over. You let him do anything he wanted to your body and your heart, he gave you as much of himself as you thought he was able to give, and then something would go wrong—you would break a rule, you would get pregnant (again, even though you’d gone on the pill, because even Lloyd’s sperm didn’t take no for an answer), you would disappoint him. And he would get angry, and he would get mean, and he would scare you straight for a few weeks until you needed your fix of him and went crawling back. It would have gone on forever if he hadn’t been two years ahead of you at school, if he hadn’t told you the night after your last final of sophomore year that he was through with you.

You’ll never forget that night. You’d been blessed by him with an invitation to the Phoenix’s post-finals end-of-year throwdown and you were so excited—so happy to be done with the academic year, so excited for Lloyd who was graduating with honors. You hadn’t talked much about what would happen once he left school, but he’d dropped you a few breadcrumbs about you maybe having a future. Just a few days prior, when he was balls-deep in you in the library stacks, he’d asked you, “If I texted you in the morning and told you to be in D.C. by dinnertime, would you come?” And of course you’d said yes. You’d have been willing to spend every second you could in Washington with him. Hell, if you were honest, you would have transferred to Georgetown if he’d asked you to.

But he didn’t ask because he didn’t want you to follow him. He just wanted to know you would follow him—that you would still be at his beck and call even if he was hours away.

The night of the party had started like all your evenings at the Phoenix did—with Lloyd off somewhere with his friends, his latest skinny blonde girlfriend (there were several over the years and they all looked exactly the same and had utterly forgettable names) hanging off of him. You had a few drinks on your own, talking only to the girls you knew and never the guys, and then Lloyd would grab you and take you upstairs to have his way with you. That night—because it would be your last at Harvard together—you gave him something special. Something he always wanted but rarely took: a delicacy.

You let Lloyd fuck your ass raw in that big four-poster bed where everything began. It seemed a fitting, full-circle moment to you, and you’d even come to enjoy that particular act with him (as much as one can when it’s Lloyd Hansen’s massive cock brutalizing your asshole). It always hurt, of course, but he just loved it so fucking much. Nothing made Lloyd go stupid quicker than you letting him in the backdoor—especially if you let him think he was taking it without your permission. That’s what you did that night; you even fought him a little bit, the way you knew pissed him off and turned him on and made him absolutely feral.

When you were done and he’d filled all three of your holes with his cum, he gathered you in his arms and pressed your back to his chest.

“Thank you for that, Porkchop,” he said, kissing the back of your head. “This is exactly how I want to remember you—a trembling, fucked-out little whore leaking all over these thousand-thread-count sheets.”

You giggled and said, “Well, I’ll see you again soon enough.”

Lloyd chuckled low and your felt it rumble against your back. “Aww, Porkchop, don’t be stupid. You knew what this was.” You turned around in his arms and he let go of you, leaning back against the headboard with his hands behind his head and a satisfied smile on his face. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“What… I don’t… I don’t understand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were one of the smart ones. I thought you were better than this. What, are you gonna grovel? Are you gonna beg me to stay with you? Oh… don’t tell me you’re gonna fuckin cry.”

You didn’t want to—you didn’t want to show weakness in front of him like that. Lloyd loved your tears when he dragged them out of you in moments of pain and pleasure mixed, but when they came from feelings? Nothing disgusted him more. But you couldn’t help it. It felt like he stole all the air from your lungs and ripped your heart out of your chest at the same time. You felt, in that moment, like you were dying.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I just… I didn’t know. You said… about D.C…. you said-”

“You know, I really can’t figure you out. All this time and I still don’t get it. Because you’re smart as shit, Porkchop. You’ve got a fucking 3.9 GPA, and while booksmarts aren’t really a measure of everything, you’ve got something else, something special. You get me, Porkchop, and you always have. So, tell me: with all that brain of yours, why the fuck are you surprised that this has to end?”

“I don’t understand why it does have to end,” you snap. “I mean, look, I know you’re leaving, that you’re gonna fuck other people, I get that, but why can we still-”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he roared. “I don’t want you anymore, ok? I’m bored of you and I don’t want to fuck you and you’re too goddamn stupid to take a hint.”

Those are the words you still hear at night when you fall asleep unloved and unfucked and miserable; that’s what you remember first when you remember Lloyd Hansen. He never even kissed you goodbye. That came much later.

PART FOUR >>>

#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #chris evans #chris evans characters #the gray man #special girl

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mearcatsreturns · 10 months

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i am deeply regretting agreeing to take time off work to go to texas for my aunt’s and uncle’s 50th anniversary celebration/family reunion that i leave for in two days.

my extended family on my paternal side is. how do i say this. not great. maybe i’m being unfair--it certainly isn’t all of them. maybe i’m autistic and don’t understand unspoken rules, but to me the last few days have been unhinged behavior?

i decided to try to go, because it’s been 3 years since i’ve seen most of them (ie the length of my grad program). for background, when i go, i typically stay at my aunt’s and uncle’s and sleep on a couch in the boathouse or in one of the bunks in the bunk room. i usually help do dishes and things like that since i don’t pay anything. i am not wealthy (especially a couple months out from finishing grad school...i work two part-time jobs and still scrounge), and about half of my family is. going to this was a stretch for me, but i thought it would be good. one of my cousins sent me a text when planning started for the celebration, which said:

please note that nothing about that mentioned payment or fees, especially since she owns that house. none of our subsequent texts mentioned it. we’re family, i figured i would just help out around keeping things clean, and i bought two nice bottles of wine from my one job that i was going to give her as a guest gift.

then yesterday, i got a text from one of my other aunts, K (not the one whose anniversary it is...my dad’s parents were catholic. it’s a big family), to me and a couple of other numbers i didn’t know. basically, a “hey, you don’t have anywhere to stay, i found this airbnb nearby. it will costs $2000 for 4 days, and split between 4, that’s $500 each!” i. uh. i was about to throw up. i texted my cousin and was like “just wanted to touch base, i’m staying at your place, right?”

she replied and said “hey, sorry, we filled the place up! you can probably stay with K!” like??? i told her i’d heard from K, but i couldn’t afford the option she sent me (genuinely, I am taking off unpaid time from work to go here, after buying a plane ticket. I cannot do half my rent for 4 days in Texas in July. that is crazy.) at this point I panicked and called my dad, because truly, I was going to need to cancel if I had to pay something like that. i talked to my dad, and he basically said, “don’t worry about it, we’ll figure something out, but yeah, this is usually why we stay on host aunt and uncle’s trailer across the street...it’s free.” so I texted my aunt K, politely thanking her for finding that place but that I can’t afford it, but my dad was going to help me find somewhere, and said I was looking forward to seeing her (she is not the problem, this is none of her business, and she was doing her best). i was upset, but willing to be like “okay, right, i’m related to a bunch of rich people who want to charge family to stay with them over a holiday weekend,” so i was already less excited, but still ok. i played some video games about it, and i figured i’ll just accept that i’m going to be in some uncomfortable hole for the time i’m there.

then this morning, I had another text from my cousin.

I did the heart thing because I genuinely didn’t know how to respond, and I still don’t know where to start. (a) this is so unnecessary, since I’m not staying with her anymore. why did you feel like you had to send this? (b) uh. you should maybe consider mentioning expectations like that when you invite people to stay with you. I did, as I previously mentioned, get some nice wine (and I work at a wine room) as a gift--that, in my experience, has been a pretty decent host gift in the past. (c) putting a vacation on a credit card when you don’t have the money or a pay bump coming to know you’ll be able to pay it off? UNHINGED. poor financial advice, and i’m sure if I’d done that, I’d get “hmm, is that fiscally responsible :/” bullshit. It’s not. I refuse to buy things I can’t afford? like? she then tried to make it better being like “I also have weed :D” and ngl, my first instinctual response (that I kept inside) was “oh, how much were you going to charge me for that? is it by puff or mg?”

anyway. I don’t know if it’s undiagnosed autism to expect things like financial expectations to be discussed and communicated, or if they’re just being some kind of White Person Way. this isn’t the first time money-related things have happened, but the last time was a decade ago and with an entirely different person (who I have since had a strained relationship with). I have genuinely lost so much desire to interact with most of my family? if this is familial love, I’ll pass and find my own family, thanks. I can’t imagine inviting someone, then charging them for a couch or bed? this is insane, right?

#long post #don't even start with this being a political thing. this cousin is campaign-for-Beto liberal #politics don't define dickery #i feel like i'm being gaslit into accepting this as normal #I have so many friends who are so generous with their time and this seems so bizarre to me #but???#(the last time one of my family members did the 'i have unspoken money expectations' thing I ended up being homeless and couch-surfing #for over a month. which i got out of because a stranger (who became like family) was kind to me #but yeah. I am. anti-excited

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

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A Trip To The Mainland

new chapter. this one is cheesy supreme, because i’m working 14 hours/day this weekend and i need fluff so i don’t have a breakdown. this is part of the A Simple Case of Love Midnight Mass fanfiction series. Please, check the description of it, or it may not make sense to you. enjoy

A Trip To The Mainland - 1.3K

The morning air was crisp and cool. It was some time after half past eight in the morning and you were standing on the deck of Bay Breeze. The ship began its cruise only a few minutes ago and you could already see Crockett Island becoming smaller and smaller, as you sailed out onto the sea. After considering the state of your pantry some days prior, you decided to go to the mainland to buy some things that you could never ever find in the town’s general store. You of course informed Erin of your intentions and even offered her to join you, but she couldn't take a day off from school because of a shopping trip. Bev would never let her live it down.

Well, the least you could do was to let Erin write down a list of things she wanted or needed, and she gratefully accepted. You were just standing at the stern of the boat, when a familiar voice sounded behind you: "Not fleeing the island already, are you?" You cast your eyes down into the water below and grinned. "Father Paul," you replied politely and turned around to face him, "I could ask you the same. Shouldn't you be serving mass?" The charismatic young priest leaned on the railing next to you with a smile on his face: "I'm doing the opposite of 'fleeing' actually. Since Monsignor Pruitt is not getting any better, you’re not getting rid of me. Mind you, he isn't getting any worse either, but he's definitely not coming back anytime soon. I have a meeting with the dioceses about my stay on the island and then I wish to visit the man himself in the hospital to tell him about his flock. I'm sure he'll be happy to know how everyone's doing."

Ah. You wondered how the Monsignor was. You weren't exactly close to him and could count the occasions on which you spoke to him personally on one hand, but nobody deserved to lose themselves like that. You and Father Paul spent a few minutes in silence, both of you looking around and listening to the sounds of the sea, the way Breeze broke through the waves and the rumble of its engine. "What about you then?" spoke Paul finally, "what brings you on the ferry today?" You looked at him to take in his appearance - he looked as handsome as always, dressed in his usual ensemble of levi's (dark grey, today) and a black shirt. His hair was nowhere as neat as when he was in church because of the wind. For once, his white collar was hidden by the jacket he took to battle off the chill, which made it slightly easier for you to admire him in a not-so-platonic manner. "Just shopping really," you said and pulled a face, "I'm very spoiled when it comes to coffee and I'm afraid the general store never has my brand." Father Paul chuckled next to you.

Since Paul's meeting with the dioceses was to take place just after twelve, he tagged along with you, as you leisurely went through various shops for the items you needed. You even shared lunch in a small Italian restaurant (your treat). You tried not to dwell on it, but between the soft lightning inside the restaurant, the pleasant, nearly flirty banter between the two of you, and Paul's leg accidentally bumping into yours under the small table every now and then as you sat opposite of each other, you couldn't help it. It felt like a date. ‘It’s not a date’, you admonished yourself, ‘it’s a friendly lunch, that’s it.’ You willed your heart to be reasonable. And failed spectacularly.

You and Paul said your goodbyes and agreed to meet on the Belle, later in the afternoon. You managed to finish your shopping and even found some sweets Erin didn’t mention in her list, but you knew she loved them. You were already sitting on the boat, reading, waiting. The Island Belle was to leave at 5:20. You were vaguely aware of Sturge checking that everything was in working order, as he always did, and noticed some of the Crockett Island residents you didn’t know that well boarding slowly. At long last, barely two minutes before the ship was to sail out, Father Paul finally appeared, sitting rather close next to you, enitrely out of breath. You smiled and stored your book away: “Hello. I was worried you’d miss the ferry.” “You and me both,” said the priest, still breathing hard, “I had to run like twenty blocks.” You laughed and patted his shoulder amicably.

“So, how’d it go?” you asked after Paul recovered from his impromptu ‘marathon’. “Well,” he took a deep breath and got more comfortable next to you, stretching his long legs and leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, “it’s like I said in the morning. I’m staying. Permanently it seems. While Monsignor Pruitt’s physical health is slowly but surely improving, his mind is almost constantly elsewhere these days. I’ve spoken to him and he was only really there for about 10% of the time. If he ever was to go back to the island, he’d need a live-in nurse, he can no longer take care of himself properly.” You listened, feeling sorry for the kind priest you met when you first came on the island. It already felt so long ago.

After that, you and Paul talked about more light topics. Turns out Paul’s watch stopped working at some point of the day and he only realised how late he’s running when he looked at them and the second hand stared dumbly at him, unmoving. The nurses in the hospital probably thought he was out of his mind. You in turn told him how your day was after you split up and even shared with him a small bag of crisps you got for yourself. When Belle docked on Crockett Island, it was just half past six and without another word, the priest took your large shopping bag for you. You were eternally grateful, of course, as the bag was pretty heavy. However, now it also meant that he planned on walking you home again, which filled you with both guilt and joy.

When you reached your door, you unlocked it and took your bag from Paul, thanking him profusely. “You don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I could do after the great lunch. I still owe you for it, though,” he said, giving you that amazing smile of his that seemed warm enough to melt icebergs. “You don’t owe me anything” you waved your hand dismissively, “I’m happy I could treat you. I love spending time with you,” came out of your mouth before you had any idea what you were actually saying. You felt terribly embarrassed and knew your cheeks were probably turning crimson red. Father Paul had the audacity to actually chuckle. “Glad to know the feeling’s mutual,” he said at last.

You suddenly snapped your eyes to his. It felt like forever, standing there like statues and staring into each other’s eyes. ‘It can’t be’ you thought, ‘he can’t feel this way… can he?’ He was still smiling, his face so open, soft, so full of kindness. You had to get away from him before you did something incredibly stupid. “Um, goodnight then,” you said lamely, “thank you once again for carrying my bag.” And then in a single moment of either bravery or insanity, you put your hand on his shoulder, stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek. A small, soft kiss, which would be perfectly acceptable among friends and family, but still felt like a herculean feat to you.

You were already gone before Father Paul had a chance to react.

I hope you enjoyed reading. If you wanna, you can check this story and the entire series out on AO3. I’m a sucker for feedback. Thanksies

#Midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #father paul x reader #reader insert #father paul hill x reader #father paul #father paul hill #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #short and sweet #very cheesy

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jobrookekarev · 1 year

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So I Showed up on Your Doorstep

Chapter One of Seven

Words: 1286

Summary: Jo tells Alex about her ex-boyfriend and the incident that led her to Kansas.

Fandom: Gray’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, and Jo Wilson/OC.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Luna Ashton-Wilson, Meredith Grey.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences.

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Bruising, Car Rides, Toddlers, Soft!

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

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“His name’s Tom Olson and he’s a baseball player for this minor league team,” Jo said as she started to tell Alex about what happened.

“We met when he came in with his friend's wife. She was in labor and Carina and I were her OBs. Her husband wasn't there yet, and he was delayed, so Tom stayed with her. He was so supportive and sweet and he was better than most of the labor partners I've seen in the past. He stayed until her husband got there and then he waited in the waiting room until the baby was born. When I brought him back to meet the baby, we started talking. When he came back out, he gave me his number. He was so sweet, so I decided to call him. We've been going out for a few months now. I knew that he had a bit of a temper on the baseball field. I've been to one of his games and seen clips online, but he said it was just an act and I believed him. I thought I knew him. I knew it was a red flag, but I just, I don't know, he was so kind to me. But I should have seen it for what it was. God, I was so stupid.”

“No, you are not stupid, Jo. You believed that you found a good man. It's not your fault. What he did to you isn't your fault. You hear me, you are not stupid, Jo,” Alex said, squeezing her shoulders and trying to get her to believe what he said and as she looked into his eyes, she believed him.

She nodded, putting a hand over her mouth as she closed her eyes, letting the few tears left in her eyes fall. He reached out and put a hand on her arm, gently rubbing up and down. She couldn't help but lean into him. It was so easy to take the comfort he gave her and she was weak to resist. He put his hand on her knee. She let out a breath as she looked down at his hand before she continued.

“We hit it off and he took me out nearly every weekend. By the end of the month, he wanted to meet Luna. He knew how important she was to me and how she was such a big part of my life, and I agreed. So this morning I met him at the park. Luna's never been shy, but for some reason, she didn’t like him. I guess her judgment is better than mine,” Jo said with a smile that quickly fell as she shook her head. “So I put her on the swing, and I was pushing her, and she kept trying to kick my hand. But we were just playing and she was laughing. She ended up kicking my hand and I asked her to stop, but she just laughed and kept kicking. I wasn't even hurt or anything but, he made this joke. He said, ‘you better listen to your mom, or she'll return you to the hospital.’ and Luna got all wide-eyed and quiet. Then she started to cry. We still have to go to the hospital for tests, and appointments, and stuff, and she hates it. I know she was frightened that I would leave her there, which of course I never would.”

Jo looked up into his eyes as if she was trying to make him believe it too, and of course, he did. He knew Jo, and he knew that she would never willingly leave her daughter behind. She would never want Luna to think that she was going to leave her or that she was unloved or unwanted.

“I scooped Luna up out of the swing and just glared at him. I held Luna close, and I reassured her that I would never leave her at the hospital. That I would never leave her at all. I told her that she was stuck with me forever and I had the paperwork to prove it. Once she calmed down, I gave her an extra hug and kiss. Then put her back in the swing. I gave her a couple of pushes before I looked back at him.”

Jo got the same angry look that he imagined she gave to Tom and Alex had to keep from leaning back away from her. He had never seen Jo like this, like a mama bear ready to fight for her cub, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't love this version of her.

“And I just ripped into him. I mean, I did it in hushed voices as I didn't want Luna to get upset or anything, but I just laid into him. I told him how inappropriate that joke was. Especially given that Luna's adopted and because that happened to me, you know. I had dozens of foster parents and adopted parents who threatened to send me back and then actually did. But he just played it off like it was a joke. I told him that it wasn't funny. Then I said he should leave and that I didn't think that this was going to work out. I guess I finally realized that he wasn't what he seemed. I just realized it too late. I turned back to Luna and that’s when he grabbed my wrist. He kept insisting that it was all a joke and he wouldn't let go. He just squeezed my wrist harder and harder, and I told him it was hurting, but he didn't listen. He just kept saying that it was a joke and that he was a nice guy. That I should give him a second chance and not take things so seriously, but I just screamed at him to let me go, and then Luna started crying again. I didn't want my daughter to see that. I never wanted her to be frightened of anyone I was dating. I tried to get away as quickly as I could. I tried to pull out of his grasp. I even twisted my wrist to try and break free, but he wouldn't let go. I ended up just trying to hit his arm to make him let go and that's when he hit me. It all happened so fast.”

Jo closed her eyes as she couldn’t bear to look at Alex right now. She could see and feel it all so vividly and her mind. The feel of his hand wrapped around her wrist, the cold grass as she fell back, the smell of the rain and his expensive cologne, and the way Luna's screams rang in her ears. In that moment, she had a flashback of when Paul had slapped her across the face, and now she had flashbacks of Tom doing the same thing. A few tears escaped, and she looked down to see them fall into the mug of hot chocolate that was growing cold in her hands.

The only thing that brought her back was Alex. He put his hand on her knee and rubbed gentle circles like he used to. Leaning into him, he wrapped one arm around her. Being in his arms again made her feel so safe and secure and loved. He was giving her that love she had wanted since he left and he gave it to her freely now. She knew that she should be mad, that she should rage and scream and cry at him. However, right now, all she wanted was for him to hold her. Alex had loved and protected her better than anyone. That was why she came here in the first place. Jo looked up into Alex's eyes again as he just watched her, waiting for her to continue. He never pushed her to tell him things and for that, she was grateful.

“The second he hit me, he let go, and I fell back. I scrambled up and I got Luna. I just scooped her up and ran. Of course, he chased after me, and he kept apologizing and saying that he didn't mean it. That he was sorry, but I'd heard it all before from Paul. I swore I would never let that happen again and never in front of my daughter. So I just ran. I got to the car and just climbed into the front seat and locked the doors. Then I turned around to put Luna in the car seat. The entire time he was there, yelling and apologizing, and banging on the windows, but I just ignored him and drove away. I was so scared that he was going to chase me and I don't know. I just thought about Paul and how he'd kill me. So when I got back to the penthouse, I just grabbed everything that we would need, and I left. I didn't know where to go, I was just on autopilot when I drove to the airport, and before I knew it… We were on a plane here.”

Jo paused for a second as she looked around the farmhouse again. It was so perfect. It was straight out of a magazine. This perfect little farmhouse, in this quiet little town with kids’ toys scattered around and baked goods on the kitchen counter. The house smelled like cookies, the floral candles that she saw on the mantel, and like everything a home should smell like. But, she didn't come here for the perfect home, she came here for Alex.

Now she looked back at him, she knew she made the right decision in coming here. Because as he sat next to her, holding her close, he was protecting her like she knew that he would. When she bought the plane ticket, all she could think about was how much she wanted Alex. And how much she wanted him to protect her like he had protected her from Jason and Paul. How he would have never made that joke because he knew what it was like to be bumped around foster homes, never wanted, and always returned. She thought about how much he would love Luna and how he would reassure her that they would always want her and love her.

“I just missed you,” Jo said, looking at him as he suddenly looked up at her, as his lips parted. “I miss how much you loved me. I've been chasing that love since you left. I fell in love with Luna, and I love her, I do, but she's not my partner or my husband. I wanted that again, that's why I started dating. I realize now that the only thing I ever wanted was you. I just wanted you back.”

Jo knew that it was wrong to say. Alex lived in this perfect house with Izzie and her perfect muffins and their perfect kids. He had a perfect life and a perfect family, and she was just coming in to ruin it all, but she didn't care. She didn't come here because she needed Alex. Sure she needed a safe place where she could hide out with her daughter, but she wanted him. She wanted him to love her and protect her and be there for her again.

Alex just stared at her, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide. He didn't say anything and she didn't expect him to. She wasn't sure if she wanted to face him, so she looked away. She caught sight of a photo sitting on the end table. It was of Izzie, him, and the twins. She picked it up and looked at it.

“Izzie takes these photos every fall to make sure she has a family photo and one for the Christmas card. The twins insisted that I be it too, but it felt weird to be a part of someone else's family photo. I mean, Alexis and Eli are my family, and I love them. I'm their dad, but it still feels weird to be a family with Izzie, and not you.” The last three words were said in almost a whisper that she didn’t quite catch, but she didn’t look at him, she just stared at the photo.

It did look a little awkward. The twins were in between the two of them smiling, and Alex and Izzie were on opposite sides of them, standing as far away as possible. Izzie had a wide and happy smile, but Alex had that forced smile that he always had whenever she made him take a photo.

“I remember how you used to tell me how to smile whenever you wanted a picture of me. Back then, it was so easy to smile for you,” Alex gave her that easy and genuinely happy smile now and it still gave her butterflies.

“Yeah, you do look pretty stiff,” Jo said with a little laugh.

“I look pretty miserable, but in truth, I was,” Alex said a little awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you glad to hear that?”

“No, I'm not,” Jo said, looking back at him as she quickly put the photo frame back on the table. “A year ago, I would have been, but all my anger has faded away, and I loved you enough to hope that you were happy.”

“Are you happy, with your new job and with Luna?” Alex asked, his face so desperate to know that she was happy, that he hadn't ruined her life like he had ruined his own.

“Yeah, I'm happy,” Jo said, giving him a smile despite how it was the truth, she knew that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “I did a Christmas photo with Luna last year. I was able to come in on my day off, and I put her in this frilly little red Christmas dress that she absolutely hated, so I had to switch it out for a little plaid shirt that said baby’s first Christmas. It just makes me think that now we both have Christmas photos with our children, our families, but not with each other.”

Jo hadn't taken her eyes off of him and Alex looked back up, catching her gaze. His eyes pulled her in like they always did, and his sad look faded away to one of longing, the kind of longing he always had for her. Jo forgot about the pull he had on her when they were together, but now that they were together again, that pull was back. As she looked at him, she wondered how she was ever able to resist him.

Alex looked up at her again, staring into her eyes with that look. She knew that look of love oh so well. It was the same look of love and longing that he used to give her when they were fighting and he wanted to go back to her. It made her heart sore and beat a little faster in her chest. It gave her more hope than she knew she should have. He leaned in, tilting his head just a little bit as her eyes glanced down to his lip.

She knew it was a bad idea, and she knew that she shouldn't, but she couldn't help but lean into him and tilt her head. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek as she reached up and put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart against her palm as he reached up and held her hand there. They were so close that they could touch and she could feel his hot breath on her lips.

Suddenly his phone buzzed and it seemed to break the spell that was around them. Alex moved his hand from her knee as he glanced at the text. “Izzie’s on her way home with the kids.”

“I should go,” Jo said standing up, he may have been comfortable with cheating, but Jo certainly wasn't, especially if the other woman was coming back with two children, who were innocent in everything.

“Wait Jo,” Alex said, standing up as she turned back to look at him. “We're not together.”

“What?” Jo asked, taking in his desperate expression.

“I lied in the letter. We were never together. I've been staying in the spare bedroom upstairs rather than at my own place so I can spend time with the kids. Especially with covid and everything last year,” Alex said with a bit of a sheepish look as he glanced down at his hands.

Jo nodded as she slowly absorbed the news. When she read the letter, a part of her knew that he was lying, that the Alex Karev that she knew would have never betrayed her like that. She knew he would have never fallen out of love with her so quickly, but hearing him actually say it was a little bit of a relief.

“I should still go,” Jo said, although she made no attempt to leave.

“Stay. please.” Alex asked, holding his hand out to her. “Look, Luna is already asleep in the guest bedroom and it's too late to find a hotel. If you really want to go in the morning, I’ll help you get a hotel or I'll drive you back to the airport so you can go home. But it's been a long day and you should rest.”

Jo nodded as he looked at his hand and she knew he was right. She was absolutely exhausted. She felt like she could just lay down, close her eyes, and be asleep in five minutes. Besides, if she got Luna up now, it'd be almost impossible to get her back down, then they would both be miserable throughout the night. Plus, the knowledge that he and Izzie weren't together was enough to make her stay.

Alex smiled and nodded and put his hand on her back as they walked down the hall to the guest bedroom. Jo checked on Luna while Alex stood there in the doorway, reluctant to enter but still watching over her. Luna was thankfully still sleeping peacefully. Her girl could sleep anywhere, and Jo was so thankful for that because as much as she tried to keep the turbulence out of her life, it seemed to follow them wherever they went. Jo tucked the blanket around Luna and ran her fingers through her tufts of blond hair, pulling on the hat that had slipped off her head.

She blew her a kiss before she looked around the room. It was a simple guest room with white fluffy throw pillows, and Jo was a little afraid to break the perfect room. Thankfully, Alex decided to come in, and he started grabbing the throw pillows to toss onto the chair, and Jo related as she pulled back the covers. Next, Alex went into a little closet and grabbed two towels and a washcloth, putting them on the end of the bed.

“The bathrooms just through that door there, so you can take a shower now or later, and there's a guest toothbrush and shampoo and stuff if you need it,” Alex says as he finished getting things ready for her, before just sticking his hands in his jeans pocket and giving a little shrug.

Jo smiled as she looked down, a little nervous too. “Thanks, a shower sounds really nice.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Alex said with a smile, he knew her routine and how she liked a shower at the end of a long day. “If you or Luna get hungry, there's food in the kitchen, and if you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thanks, she usually doesn't get up in the middle of the night, but she's an early bird so,” Jo said with a shrug, she wasn’t sure if she’d feel comfortable tiptoeing around someone else's kitchen in the early morning, so she prayed that Luna would sleep in, especially given their late night.

“Well, we're all early birds around here too, but I'll tell the twins to keep quiet, so they don't wake you guys up,” Alex said with a little chuckle as he talked about his kids before he shrugged. “Um, I guess just sleep well, and let me know if you need anything else.”

They could both feel like a little twinge of love that was still between them, but she could tell that he was holding back, unwilling to act on it. She would be lying if she said she wasn't a little relieved. As much as she wanted him to, considering the state she was in, she was happy that they didn't take things further. Her emotions were running high and she knew that in the morning, things would change. Izzie and the twins would be home and she and Luna would have to go back to Seattle. They'd go back to their separate lives because he left her, and that wouldn't change with one night of comfort, as much as she wanted it to.

“Thank you for everything. For taking in me and my daughter when you didn't have to,” Jo said, looking at him as she held the towel to her chest.

“What, you think I was gonna tell you to get off my porch and go find a hotel?” Alex said, joking just a little bit as his lips curled up into that Karev smile, but she looked away because that's exactly what she thought he might do. “Oh Jo, despite everything between us, I'd never turn you away. In fact, of all the places you could go, I'm glad you came here.”

“Me too,” Jo said, with a smile as she looked down, hoping he didn't see the way her cheeks turned pink. “Thank you again for always being there for me.”

“Of course,” Alex said, with a shrug as if it was nothing.

Alex slipped out of the room but not before giving her one last gentle smile. As he closed the door behind him, Jo let out a sigh, still feeling his kind and calm presents surrounding her. As she looked around the room, she felt like a stranger in the home. Still. She grabbed a change of clothing and started up the shower. She checked on Luna again before leaving the door open just a little bit so she could hear her if she cried. As she stepped into the warm water, she closed her eyes and saw Alex's smile in her mind. She could still feel his hand on her knee gently comforting her and the way his arms held her shoulders as she cried. She felt completely surrounded by him and not even the water could wash that away.

#jo wilson #alex karev #grey's anatomy #jolex #luna wilson #otp: home and heart #grey's anatomy fanfic #my work #my writing #my fanfiction #SISUOYD

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 3 years

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The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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