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crazyoffher · 11 months

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WATCHTOWER.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: a late-night visitor treads into the restaurant you work at, entering with the plan to grab a drink before heading home, and leaving with her drink and a girl on her mind.

warnings: not proofread (unedited).

word amount: 2600+

part two part three

You wiped the tables, a dry cloth over your shoulder as you dragged the damp towel across the wood surfacing. It was a quarter past eleven and your coworker had just served his last table of the night, opting to help the dishwasher load the silverware for the next morning which took about five minutes, leaving you to wipe down each table and chair in the main room and VIP section while he waved his goodbyes to you not long ago.

To say the restaurant having working air conditioning was a major relief considering spring was around and the temperatures were increasing day by day, and it didn't help that because your restaurant was a high-end restaurant in the core of LA, you wore a black button-up with black slacks for pants, black dress shoes, and a white vest and tie as your everyday work outfit.

You were a sweating maniac most days.

You heard the door to the restaurant entry open, sparing the entry's a glance before directing your attention to the table, the last table you had to wipe down, at that. "Sorry, we closed about thirty minutes ago. If you'd like me to, I can set you up a reservation for another day." At the end of your sentence, you looked up at the entryway to get a full glance at the three figures standing at the entry.

The first two to catch your eye were two men dressed in all black with semi-bulky figures, figuring them out to be bodyguards. You looked down slightly to the girl that they were protecting, immediately recognizing her.

It's a part of your job to identify celebrities as they come and go through the restaurant to give them better treatment, so America's new 'It' girl, Jenna Ortega, was not somebody you could've possibly failed to notice. She gave you a slight smile.

"Oh no, it's fine. I was just coming in and out of places around here to see who was still open so I could get a drink." She laughed it off which made you crack a small smile. Looking around the area to see all of the tables cleaned and mostly everything set for tomorrow, you turned back to the girl. "Well, if you were just looking for a drink, I could sit you at the bar for now."

You pointed toward the stools where the bar was, seeing as it was one of the last things you had to set up for the next day. "I don't fully lock up until twelve and I have to fix up the bar anyway, it's fine."

Even from a distance, you could see the uncertainty in her eyes at making you work a bit extra just for her. "You sure?"

"Totally. Sit at any stool," You shot her a smile before grabbing the last chair to turn upside down and put on the table, "and I'll be right there."

You could hear her spare you a 'thank you' before listening to the shuffling of her and her bodyguards, shooting a glance in their direction to see the three sitting in stools, the bodyguards two seats to the left of Jenna, giving her space.

Were you a fan of Jenna's? Maybe. Normally, being in the presence of celebrities didn't bother you at all, you had grown accustomed to it. Something about her, though, it made you a bit nervous to go up and serve her at the bar. You put your fears aside, though, because you'd rather not keep her waiting.

Quickly, you went around the bar into the kitchen to put your cleaning items away, washing your hands quickly but thoroughly before grabbing three glasses from the racks and heading out to the bar.

"You'd like a..." You trailed off, waiting for her to finish your sentence to which she did. "Vodka martini."

You shot her a look, a smile plastered on your face. "At this hour - no, at your age?" She genuinely laughed at your remark, "Okay, you got me. I know you might get this question a lot, and you might hate it, but what do you like that's non-alcoholic?"

You put on your thinking face, settling to ignore the short side-eyes her bodyguards were giving you while deep in their own conversation. "A berry soda usually does it for me. You mix any sort of berry syruping, raspberry, blueberry, etcetera into a Sprite or Sierra Mist, and if you want just a tiny bit of alc then you add a tadpole amount of white wine. A lime is optional, too."

"I guess I'll be having a...strawberry soda then, Sprite with a lime."

"Yeah, you trust me? - My recommendation, I mean." You pulled a strawberry syrup bottle out from under the counter, never breaking eye contact with the girl.

She giggled lightly at your word mix-up. "You seem like somebody I could trust, so sure. You look...good, by the way." Jenna added in, having eyed your suit-wear as she was making her way to a stool. Nervousness was laced in her voice, but you were too oblivious as a person generally to notice.

At the unexpected compliment, your cheeks tinted a slight red, breaking eye contact to hide away your face and grab one of the three cups you had placed out. "Thank you. I dare say you look nice as well."

Jenna scoffed, 'Yeah right." She looked down at her clothing, sporting baggy black jeans and a plain black tee that was covered by a jacket with designs all over it. "My outfit is about the plainest it could ever be."

You shook your head at her, turning to grab a Sprite out from the mini-fridge. "Your outfit never defines whether you look good or bad, not in my books anyway. It's about the face, or even the heart, as corny as that definitely sounds."

Your back was now turned to Jenna, cracking open the bottle of Sprite and pouring it over the ice in a metallic cup. So, unless you had eyes on the back of your head, you couldn't see Jenna with her elbow on the countertop, hand resting on her cheek as she glanced all around your figure.

Something about you to her was...interesting. She couldn't put her finger on it.

"That means you think I have a nice heart. You just met me." Though she couldn't see it, you grinned widely at her audacity to pinpoint the 'heart' part of your words instead of the 'face' part.

"I'd like to hope you do have a good heart, but I'm not sure because just like you said, we just met. I do know you have a rather pretty face, anybody could see that part of you, and I think that's enough for now." You placed the lid over the metallic cup, holding it before grabbing the bottom of the cup and shaking harshly.

Jenna, somebody who was quick with her words, struggled to respond to you. She found no words to possibly combat the indirect, massive compliment you just gave her.

As she drafted her next sentence, she overlooked the cup in front of her until her hand brushed against it mindlessly. Removing her other hand from her cheek, she looked at the glass in front of her, the drink a vibrant red from the strawberry syrup. She then looked up to see you, your eyes staring back at her.

"Are you okay? You seem a bit out of it." Your eyebrows furrowed in slight concern, and the only thing Jenna could do was shake her head. "Oh no, I'm fine. Just a bit tired. And thank you."

"Likewise. And you're welcome." You portrayed a smile that Jenna seemed to enjoy viewing. Eyeing her bodyguards, you leaned in over the counter to shorten the space between you and Jenna for the action of whispering. "Do you know if they want anything from here?"

Jenna's already slight smile grew wider, "What, you're scared to talk to a duo of big guys?" To her words, you gave her a sour look that she knew was all sarcastic.

"Well, in my experience, bodyguards haven't always been the nicest. More overly protective, and yeah, that's their whole job but sometimes they could just tune it down a bit. You try to hand someone their food and they eye you down like you're about to pull a gun out." You pushed yourself back slightly, deciding to give Jenna more space even though she quite didn't mind the vicinity between the two of you.

"I guess that's fair. Eddie, Bennett." She called to them, the two burly men immediately halting their conversation and directing their attention to the significantly small girl.

"Do you want anything from the bar?" The two men eyed you for a split second, leaving you to fiddle with your own fingers in a somewhat nervous state while you awaited an answer.

"Er, just a water."

"Same here."

You muttered an 'okay' before grabbing the other two cups and filling them with water, handing them off to the two men who each thanked you. "I'd say they're pretty nice." Jenna retorted, and you shook your head at her.

"You try the drink yet?" You moved to the bar's ledges where all the alcohol was at, all out of place and some caps left open, and got to work organizing everything while maintaining a conversation with Jenna.

You didn't get a response from her immediately, maybe around three seconds after. "Well, now I just did."

"What 'ya think?"

"I think that I should come here more often so I can get this drink served to me more often by a pretty cute waitress." Jenna regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. It was said with complete confidence, but now she found herself being too bold.

You pursed your lips to fight back the smile that challenged itself to spread, not daring to face her. You guessed Jenna was one for eye contact, as her eyes mercilessly burned into your face at (seemingly) all times.

"Why'd you want a drink so late, especially if you're tired? Don't you have like...a personal little bartender in your million-dollar home?" You cheekily ghosted her wealth, and Jenna bit the inside of her cheek to fight the smile that wanted to glue itself to her face.

"I had business meetings all day, sponsorships, and whatnot. I started them at around ten-ish this morning and I got out not even twenty minutes ago. I didn't want to go home just yet despite the fact that I feel more than ready to pass out on my bed. What have you done all day?"

"Be whined to multiple times and berated by D-list celebrities for not cooking their steak correctly. If you couldn't tell by now, I'm not the cook. I'll deal with it all day everyday though, the number of tips I get by the end of the day is fucking amazing."

"Give me a number." Jenna sipped on her drink, returning her arm to it's former position with her elbow resting on the countertop and her palm on her cheek, listening intently.

"I'd say...a thousand to fifteen hundred per day, two-thousand if we have actual A-listers come in. I earn my rent in a day." You laughed, and Jenna surprisingly looked shocked at the number. "You make that much working, what? Five days a week? That's about seventy-five hundred a week just on tips!"

"Well, because of the number of tips each of us normally get plus our actual paycheck, they shorten the days we work, so I actually work three days a week. I'll take it though, that's eighteen thousand a month on tips."

"That's too much, what's the catch?"

"Being berated constantly, having food and drinks thrown at you by adults acting like toddlers, and you have to be ridiculously fast. I'm talking taking customers' orders, giving other customers their orders, and sometimes making drinks all at the same time. It's stressful, a lot of people quit after the first month or so."

"That sounds awful, how long have you been here?"

You pondered about it. The days moved by fast when you were working so sometimes you lose track of what month it is, even. "Er, six months next week, I'm sure. It's hard to even keep track of months sometimes when the days go by so fast, plus the stress. Right now, I'm probably the most relaxed I've ever been standing in this restaurant, and I have you to thank for that."

Jenna grinned a big, flashy smile that you seemed to heat up at, slyly trying to feel your face. "Well, you're welcome. I - yeah?"

Jenna was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder, the finger belonging to her bodyguard, Bennett. He flashed up his phone to show her the time, "It's time to leave, miss. We promised to have you in the car by 11:45 at the latest."

Jenna just nodded, glancing at her glass that was still 3/4th full before looking up at you, seeing that you were wiping down the glasses Eddie and Bennett had given back to you. "Here, I'll get you a styrofoam for it." You left into the kitchen with the glasses at hand, hanging them back on the rack before searching in a cabinet for a styrofoam cup.

By the time you walked back to the bar, Jenna and her bodyguards were standing up, Jenna's guards merely awaiting her movement while she stretched, waiting for you.

Taking the glass, you dumped the remains of her drink into the styrofoam before sealing it with a plastic lid, handing it off to Jenna who gladly took it. "You have books in here?"

Jenna pointed out the shelves hung up on a wall, holding books that were slanted against one another, most of them with bulky spines. "Oh yeah, those are mainly for decoration, but I've actually read one or two myself. Most of them are the owners but we're allowed to shelve our own books if we'd like."

"You put any up?" Jenna questioned, abandoning her position next to her bodyguards to get a closer look at the nailed shelf. "About three so far. I just finished reading a book of my own that I plan on putting up here as well."

You maneuvered to where Jenna was, pointing to a navy-blue book that was quite big, a bulky spine faced in their direction with the words "CROOKED YOUNG" stretched out across the spine. "Crooked Young, It's the best book I've ever read. I really recommend it."

"Yeah? Where can I buy it, Barnes and Noble?" Jenna looked up at you, taking in your height. You were about four, maybe five inches taller than her, and she could tell through the naturally-popping veins in your arms the way your body was shaped through your tailored dress shirt and vest, you were physically fit.

"What - oh no, take it." You reached forward, grabbed the book off the shelf, and handed it to her. She looked at you again, the same look of uneasiness in her eyes that she gave you earlier. "Before you say anything, yes I am positive you can take it. I've read it one too many times to keep it around, otherwise I'd might just read it again."

Jenna gave you one last smile that lasted until she was out the door. "Alright, but I will be returning this to you when I'm done."

"So desperate to see me again?" You teased, a sly grin on your face as you laughed the joke away. "And how do you plan on doing that if you don't even know my name?" You questioned her to which she just shrugged.

"Your name is..."

"(Y/N). And you are?" You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head to seem sincere about your question. Though she was more than aware you knew who she was, she answered, "Jenna. I'll be seeing you soon, (Y/N)."

And with that, she turned on her heel and left the restaurant, your eyes not leaving her rather-short frame until you couldn't see her anymore.

"Eddie?" Jenna called to one of her bodyguards. sat in the passenger seat as Bennett started driving away. "Yes, miss?"

"Do restaurant workers typically work the same days every week?"

He thought about it for a second before looking at her through the rearview mirror. "Most of the time, yes. Why?"

"Please try to keep in mind that she was working on a Thursday."

☟ ☟ ☟

You guys want a part two? Please comment it below or send your answers in my asks :)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesdayaddams #bodyguard #celebrity #actress #jenna marie ortega #celebrity x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #restaurant au #wattpad #lesbian

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thebearer · 9 months

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Omg Imagine meeting Lip at college and you are majoring in education, and you only know each other through math or something you need help with. You could just befriend him at first because he is a WHORE phase lol.

Idk your dribbles make me think that Lip and his wife have a strong friendship that blossomed to romance after Lip figures his shit out , and she got knocked up very early on lol.

📢ALSO LIP WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE THEN CARMY WHEN HE FINDS OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT BC KAREN TRAUMAAAAAAAAAAA 📢

"Hey," You stride next to Lip, looping the free strap of your backpack on. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Uh, kinda busy." Lip hummed, brows creasing lightly when he looked over at you.

"With your professor?" You gave him a pointed look, a devious smile spreading across your lips when he scoffed.

"Yeah. You got plans with yours?" Lip countered.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I'm not that desperate for a grade." You quipped. "Speaking of, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, because I am going to fail this math test on Wednesday."

"Yeah? And what do you need me for?" Lip grinned, pushing the door open for you. It was so casual, friendly- it made your heart flutter.

"Stop." You shook your head at him. "C'mon, I really need your help. I do your critical theory homework all the time to impress your sexy professor lady, so you owe me."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll stop by after my last. I gotta check with Youens, make sure I got my shit done. Then I can come help you study." Lip nodded casually.

"Ugh, thank you." You sighed, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "I swear, I'm not teaching math ever. I don't understand why I'm in the hardest math class for elementary ed."

"I mean, they probably want their teachers to be halfway smart." Lip shrugged. "Well, maybe not at the shit hole school I went to, but, uh, the good schools."

You snorted. "Yeah? Well, regardless, I'm not teaching math. I'll hold down the language arts, or the history, maybe the science if I have to. But math? Out of the question."

"Not even long division, huh?" Lip grinned.

"To be completely honest with you, I don't think I know how to do long division." You giggled. "I can barely do short division."

Many Years Later

"Lip!" You called, your voice carrying out to the garage, where your husband was "working on the car" (which really meant sneaking a cigarette).

"Yeah?" Lip hummed, walking into the house. Freddie sat at the kitchen table, a tiny frown on his features that mimicked yours perfectly. It made Lip's heart melt.

"Let Daddy see the problem, baby. He's better at math than me." You ran a hand over Freddie's curls sweetly, moving so Lip could take your spot.

Freddie had gotten Lip's freakish ability to do math. He was only six, but doing multiplication and long division already in his advanced groups.

"Lemme see, bud." Lip turned the paper towards him, scanning the problem. "Ah, ok, so you're not carrying the number here." Lip pointed to the problem, explaining it to your tiny son.

Your heart swelled, picking Jude up and hoisting him on your hip, trying to finish loading the dishwasher.

"Always thought your were jokin'." Lip hummed, gently squeezing your ass so you blushed, leaning to kiss the toddler on his head.

"About what?" You raised a brow.

"The long division thing." Lip laughed lightly. You gave him a confused look. "Y'know, when you said you wouldn't teach math and all that."

"Oh," You rolled your eyes playfully. "No, I wasn't. Why do you think I teach language arts now? Can't do all that numbers stuff like you."

Lip smirked, taking the dish from you and putting it in the rack. "How do you even remember that?" You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"That I said that." You giggle. "That was, like, a million years ago."

"Because," Lip shrugged. "I was in love with you."

"No, you weren't." You blushed, dodging Jude's grabbing hands towards your hair. "You had your Mrs. Robinson."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but, you were like my best friend." He said boyishly. Your heart melted. "Still are, but then, I just... I didn't want to fuck it up, ya know?"

"Watch it." You glared at him lightly, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet. I was, like, very much so in love with you too, for the record."

"Yeah?" Lip grinned. You nodded, laughing when he kissed you sweetly over Jude's head. "Kinda had an idea."

"Really? What gave it away? The wedding or the kids?" You said sarcastically.

"No, it was the night that I had to pick you up from that dive bar downtown, and, uh, you were so drunk-"

"-Alright, Gallagher-"

"-And you kept telling me how much you loved me-"

You glared at him. "Jude, Daddy is being mean to me. Can you believe that?" You cooed, frowning exaggeratedly at your son. Jude just babbled, trying to grab at your hair again.

#thebearer #bearblahs #thebearerblurbs #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x teacher!reader #lip gallagher blurb #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher x reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #lip gallagher x female reader #lip x reader #dad!lip gallagher x mom!reader #dad!lip gallagher #jude ian gallagher #freddie gallagher #shameless #shamless us #shameless fluff

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corrodedcoffins-blog · 4 months

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The Almost Breakup

note: short but i'm happy with it

also gonna get back into this story soon also if you have thoughts on this au (or any of my aus) please share i love hearing them <3

y/nupdates

liked by CorrodedCoffinStan, lilian_19, and others

y/nupdates: Y/n and Isla (Y/n's boyfriend's daughter) out together going out to dinner and seeming very close, and no Eddie in sight

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emails.tour.11: her and isla bonding is so cute

icarly_: Isla is so pretty

Metalhead_: she's such a slut

13taytay: JOJO!! HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?!?!

im.a.mirrorball: in her step-mom era

y/nismyqueen: where are y/n's shoes from?? very very important!

for_our_moony: prada i think, but steve madden makes a more affordable

CorrodedCoffinStan: he is to old for her, and now making her act like a mom to his daughter. disgusting.

y/nupdates

liked by tswiftfan13, gilmore_girl, and others

y/nupdates: Y/n was out with her new boyfriend, Eddie Munson's son. They went out to lunch together, and this is the first time we've seen them together.

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dog.loverrr: only 5 years between her and her boyfriends son..

princess.y/n: love seeing her with Leo not just isla

anna.frozen_: my worlds colliding

munson_86: fr been an Eddie fan for years and a Y/n fan since girl meets world

y/nswifey: forever in love with Leo Munson

philly_eagles.fan: i think they should date instead of her and his dad, the age gap is gross

Eddie and Y/n have been together for 6 months now, about the time Eddie’s relationships would end, without the women ever meeting his kids and never any ‘I love you’s. But everything was going well, and though Y/n had met Isla when she met Eddie they had gotten really close, and she had now met Leo and despite all expectations that went well. Y/n and Leo had become friends of sorts. But no matter how happy he was, how happy she made him, Eddie started pulling away. He couldn’t help it. He loved her, yes. Not that he’d told her yet. He loved his kids first, and he has to put them first, always will.

Y/n was now on the international leg of her tour, and they haven’t talked in a while, always seeming to miss each other. This was giving Eddie the space he needs to think about their relationship. Not without zero help from his kids.

“Is Y/n going to come here after her shows in Europe are over?” Isla asked, pushing her vegetables across her plate with her fork, then picking up her knife to saw the broccoli in two.

“Um- I’m not sure, kid.” The man mumbles, hoping Isla will move on after not getting an answer.

“Why not?”

“Isla-”

“Can you ask-”

“Isla! Finish your dinner, or if you're done take your plate to the kitchen.” Sighing, Isla got up grabbing her plate to the kitchen and stomping upstairs to her room. After hearing the slamming the teens door, Eddie gets up to start loading the dishwasher. Leo, who was over for dinner, like he often did, walked over to his dad, placing his plate next to the sink. Then rounding the island, to sit at a bar stool.

“So.. What’s with your attitude?” This causes Eddie to look up from his task, giving his son a look that could kill.

“Leo, we're not talking about this.”

“No. We have to. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You get so sensitive everytime we mention Y/n lately. Are you not talking? Please don’t break up with this one, I actually like her.”

“Leo. I ca-”

“No. You love her! And I guess that scares you, because every relationship you’ve had since mom has had this 6 month timer and that timer has gone off, and you're not ready. Or it scares you that she’s so close to us. And that if you ever break up Isla would be heartbroken.”

Eddie takes a moment, thinking over what Leo has said, and scarily accurate it is, and since when was Leo that smart?

“Leo?... Could you stay here with Isla for a few days?”

“Yeah.” Leo says, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Here Y/n was sitting in her hotel in Paris, staring at her phone, looking at a voicemail Eddie had left. It’s time. He’s going to break up with her; she just knows it. Her and Leo went out a couple weeks ago and he had let slip of Eddie’s 6 month timer on relationships, of course that was followed with Leo’s reassurance that he could feel she was different. But that didn’t cure her anxiety.

Because since she left for tour, they haven’t talked, like Eddie has been avoiding her. She had written a break-up song about him for fucks sake, they’re not even broken up yet. But now he was going to break up with her, over a voicemail at that.

Ripping the band-aid off, Y/n finally presses play on the voicemail.

“Hey, Y/n-” God her first name, it’s really happening “-um, I have a lot of this to say, but I can’t say it over the phone. So I’ll talk to you later. I care about you. I know it hasn’t felt like it, and that’s part of what I need to talk about. I just need you to remember that. I care about you. Okay. Bye.”

At least he was planning on letting her down easy. Guess that’s a plus. Pouring herself a glass of wine from the overpriced display hotels have, Y/n sits down at the dining table, staring at the abstract painting across from her. After what felt like an hour of staring, which in actuality it was 10 minutes, the young woman hears the click of the hotel door. It startles her back into a conscious state, wondering why her assistant Andrea, the only other person with a key card, was entering her room at this hour.

“Andrea?” Turning the corner, Y/n comes face to face with the older, taller man. “Eds… Wha- what are you doing here?”

“Did you not get my voicemail?” He asks, as if that voicemail held any answers.

“Yeah, but.. It was pretty vague.” Her reply caused Eddie to smile.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I was in a rush. Packing, getting the jet ready.” Silence came over the two. Awkward silence. The couple had never been in awkward silence for the entirety of their relationship, always talking, never a pause in their banter. They had comfortable silence at night, staring into each other's eyes. But never was it awkward between them.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

“I’ve been avoiding your calls.” The two spoke at the same time, before Eddie continues, “I’m sorry. It’s just- Ever since my relationship with my ex-wife, my relationships have had this 6 month lifespan. And when they get close to 6 months I get ready to end things.” Here it comes the ‘it’s not you, it’s me and my commitment issues’ “But that didn’t happen with you.” Oh. “With you, you met Isla and Leo no woman I’ve been with has gotten there, and they like you! And that’s fucking scarry. So the thought of us ever breaking up and what that would do to Isla.. It killed me, so I wanted to get ahead of it, y’know break up with you before she got even more attached, but I couldn’t so I just avoided you. Which was the wrong choice because that just caused you and me more pain. So.. I came here to tell you that.. I love you. And you don’t have to say it back, but I need you to know that I’m in, and this relationship it’s not just you and me anymore, my kids are in this. And I have to think about them and I need to know that you will also think about them.”

Throughout that long winded explanation, all Y/n could think about is that Eddie is not breaking up with her, and that he loves her. He, Eddie Munson, playboy, rock legend loved her.

“Eds, I love you too.” After she said the three little magic words, Eddie leaps towards her, his lips smashing against hers. Their lips moving in sync, Eddie’s tongue tempting her lips to widen, to allow his tongue and hers to fight for dominance. Y/n’s lips grant Eddie’s tongue entrance while Eddie has her distracted by his tongue, his hands slip downwards to her thighs gripping them for support to lift the woman onto the dining table, leaning her back and lifting his lips from hers to be able to talk once again. The disconnection of their lips leave the couple breathless, panting, and staring into eachothers eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The couple wake up the next morning, sunlight seeping through the sheer curtains, legs tangled together, Y/n moving to put her cold feet on Eddie’s legs to warm them.

“Ah! Get your feet off me. They’re cold.” Eddie mumbles into his hair, before turning his body to face Y/n, he was the little spoon last night.

“I know! That’s why I want you to warm them.” The short woman says in a ‘duh’ tone. Wiggling her feet between his calves, Eddie grabs her ankles, moving onto his back and pulling her to straddle him. Her bare core, resting on his v-line, as the two were still naked from last night's activities.

“Hi.”

“Hi, darling.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” The older man brings his hand to his girl's jaw, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek.

“I love you.” This causes Eddie to let out a deep chuckle, as the two have said this about 30 times since he first did last night.

“I love you too.”

“So.. Now that we’re in love or whatever.” “‘Whatever’” “I want you to meet my parents… In a couple months when I get a break from tour. What do you think about that?” Y/n was worried about asking Eddie this, it felt so juvenile, but Eddie has never once made her feel bad about their age gap, one of the many things she loved about him.

“I would love to. And in the summer, I would really love you coming with me and the kids to Hawkins, meet my uncle and my hometown friends?”

“I would love to meet the man that raised my amazing man. I’ll have to thank him y’know. A lot.”

“Of course, he did a great job.”

“Oh shut up. I also really want to meet your friends. What are they like?”

“Well theirs the Hellfire boys, Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will. They’re a couple years younger than me, all married, all have kids. Mike and Will are married, they adopted a few. Then there’s Steve. He has a kid Leo’s age.. Then Robin, she got married to this girl from high school, Vicky, me and Steve totally got them together but she won’t admit it. They’re all great, and I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

“I want to go to.. Italy. Have you been?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I’ve always wanted to go.”

“I’ll take you.”

The two have been laying on their backs staring at the ceiling, talking all about the places they’ve been and want to go. The couple haven't left the bed all day, just to go to the bathroom, and Eddie once to grab them food, all while still naked, just how they liked it.

“I wrote a breakup song about you.. Before everything, when I thought we were going to break up.” She added the last part quickly after her pause.

“Anything bad about me?” Eddie asks, clearly making a joke out of it, something Y/n was thankful for, he could always tell when she needed him to be serious and when she needed him to be jokey, another thing she loved about him.

“No, of course not. Just about how it would be super hard for me if we did break up.”

“Then good thing we didn’t.” He says, pressing his lips gently against hers.

~taglist~

@whoscamila @mystargirl-interlude @creoleguurl @witchwolflea @kissmejoey @taylorswiftsloverfr @random000000sblog

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forthelostones · 2 months

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #2

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. distraction by kehlani ♫

palestinians still need e-sims!!! click the link to figure out how you can donate.

The overly generous housewife commissioned me another large project, to which I simply could not decline. Summertime is when business is the best and she just became my second client in this particular neighborhood. It was a carbon copy of the nearby cities split by four-way stops and freeways. The demands were never unique or fresh, causing me a great deal of creative fatigue when I had to order identical materials from my supplier. I pressed the half-empty bottle of frosty Sam Adams against my neck, soothing the battering I received from the sun this afternoon. There was a cacophony of Casio watch alarms indicating that lunch was over. All my workers were so ecstatic to finish up today’s task and celebrated with loud audible sighs.

“Men can be such pigs,” I whispered, consolidating their empty glasses sticky with sugar.

“Men and children,” She adds, catching me off guard.

I smile over to her blankly, having very little experience with either.

“Yes, my little one over there used to be a slobbering mess.”

I glance over my shoulder to see her daughter sucking on a lemon wedge. Her dark pink lips are tacky with citrus and teeth white against the sunny flesh shedding onto her mouth’s crevasses. I trace the thin maroon-shaded line on the outside of her lips. I find my tongue gliding over my own, thinking of how the lemon would taste between us both. Her eyes jut open once she realizes I am looking at her, eyelashes feathery and light under the sun. Then she just stares at the ground, scraping the sole of her worn Converse against the driveway pavement, attempting to conceal her smile.

“Have any?” She asks.

“Any kids? Ah, no. I don’t.”

She invites me into her home with my hands full of expensive glassware. She screams out to her daughter to bring in the remaining to which she obliges silently, the wedge now dry between her teeth. I wait before walking through the mysterious door and let her guide me — once again with no words. I watched her hips wobble, compressed in spandex, as she walked in front of me. Blinking myself out of the curve of her behind, I stepped up the concrete steps into the kitchen area. Once the daughter placed the glasses on the granite island, she discarded her lemon by spitting it directly into the bin, before lifting the cups out of my hands.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I hummed naturally.

“So we’re good for a consultation tomorrow Abigail?”

I stalked the daughter's movements as she traveled to the dishwasher on the other side of the kitchen. She hunched over to load the dishwasher, ass drawing me back in as she bent down into a squat to adjust something on the rack.

“Abigail?” Her mother probed.

“Yes, ma’am, sorry I was just going through my schedule in my mind.” I laughed nervously.

“Don’t you have an assistant for all that stuff?”

“No ma’am, not yet. But we’re good for a consultation at 7:00 am?”

“Yes, my husband will be here and it’ll be a nice affair. Darling, why don’t you give Abigail all of our numbers. It will be necessary once she starts coming by regularly to fix your bathroom and the deck.”

Her daughter bounced on her heels and closed the washer, turning to me, worrying her lip in her mouth. She looked between her mother and me, confused at the declaration of plans.

“I didn’t know… uh… renovations to my bathroom, okay.” She said.

“You’ve been complaining about it, so we’re getting it fixed, see Abigail out.”

She wipes her hands on her shorts and leaves wet smears on the material, the handprints incasing her plump thighs. The girl guides me back to the entrance we came in, her mother wishing me farewell as I step out of the kitchen and back into the garage. I turn to her, still perched on the top of the concrete step, her breasts now eye-level. They glimmer like diamonds just before I tilt my head back and meet her reticent eyes. She holds out her hand, palm upward, demanding something.

“Phone?” She says.

“Oh right, uh I think I left it in the truck,” I say patting my pockets. “Why don’t you just take mine down?”

She removes her phone from her waistband and opens the contact page allowing me to type in my information. I look up at her and she nods at my name on the screen. I huff and start strutting out of the wide garage door. Just as my boot touches the line between the shaded concrete of the garage and driveway, I hear her sweet voice shimmer. “See ya, Ms. Anderson.”

“Bye.” I wave as the heat from outside embraces me and a collection of warmth bottles inside of me from hearing my name so velvety on her lips.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

My neck and forehead were drenched as I rolled over to throw my legs over the couch. The tightness in my lower back that could only be saved by major corrective massaging was throbbing violently. My body stiffened from using this old couch as my bed again, the third time this week. My actual bedroom was a few steps away from the front door but I never make it there. Under my left leg was another thriller book whose name is now obsolete and could explain why I was sweaty and anxious throughout the night. I thumbed the pages and set them on the massive pile of manila folders that accumulated on the coffee table. I put my finger under my glasses and rubbed my eyes clear. What a mess my house has become. The sun wasn’t even up yet and I question why I still do any of this. This a question I ask myself every day actually. I touch the screen of my phone that I forgot to put on charge last night, again, and see all the notifications accumulated after 7:00 pm.

Payments due, meetings, consultations, etc., are all semi-organized in a calendar system I have yet to perfect.

11:00 PM: See you in the morning, Ms. Anderson :)

I felt my mouth open slightly. I was pathetic, smiling at a simple text. How long had it been since a notification on my phone was from a woman? I opened the message to type but it’s far too late to reply… right? I liked the message, saved her number as the address, and placed my phone down on the counter. I picked up my tube of toothpaste and noticed how thin it became. I will need to run to the store after work today, another thing to add to the list of shit I didn’t want to do. I used all my might to pop out the last bulb of paste.

Today was supposed to be an easy day, do the consultation, and oversee the the porch while I put up ads for an assistant I desperately needed. After slicking my hair I walked back into the living room where piles of paperwork overwhelmed the space. I needed an assistant and quickly if I was going to continue to expand my business.

Two cups of black coffee today as I discovered my creamer was congealed and rotten beyond belief. Another thing I need to do is go grocery shopping. I searched for my keys under the folders stacked on my coffee table. It was already 6:30 a.m. and by my standards, I was running late. Once every piece of paper was misplaced and out of order, I recalled my keys' presence on the loop of my cargos. I pressed my head against my seat and let out a sigh before turning on my truck and an audiobook, A Certain Hunger. Another fucking day.

My truck hummed as I parked on the street in front of the plain light blue house. I winced at my final sip of bitter caffeine while pulling the keys out of the ignition and attaching them to my belt loop. I dig in my back seat for my work bag and drag it with me to the front door. After I knocked, a man of my height opened the door to welcome me in.

“Abigail,” He said unamused by my presence.

“Good morning,” I replied.

“So, this deck came with the house and it’s very outdated and my wife would like to…”

His voice faded into a tornado of my own thoughts. It was usually the same customers, who had a ten-year-old porch or deck, wanted it to look modern and have the money to waste on it. I shouldn’t complain because I'm willing to take what they’re willing to cough up.

“Let me show you the bathroom we want to redo.”

I followed him up the hardwood steps that opened into a mezzanine that split into three directions. One I assumed was a bathroom, a master suite, and a baby pink painted door with a crown-shaped sign that said: ‘The Princess’ Room'. I found myself cracking a smile. He knocked on the door before entering, to which his restless daughter opened her eyes and pulled the duvet over her chest.

“Dad.” She groaned, catching a glimpse of me just before retreating completely under the blanket.

The view I caught of her face was soft and her lips were perfectly swollen to take into my mouth. I clear my throat and push the thought down just before nearly tripping over one of the many boxes cascading around the room. The bathroom was bright with shades of pink I had never seen before.

“We just want something black, gold, something mature for the college grad.” He tried to smile but shrugged as if his wife told him to say those exact words.

“Great, I can draft something up and give you a quote.”

“Nice, I do have to run, my rude daughter will see you out.”

His hand briefly gripped my shoulder as he walked past me. I looked over to the bed and placed my thumbs into my belt loops as she peeked from the covers. Her bare shoulders indicated that she was in no position to walk me out. I followed the deep line of her collarbone and blinked heavily. I swallowed as my cheeks became flushed and marched out of the room before finding my way back into my truck in a blur. I placed my hand on my chest and imagined my skin was hers. How it would feel under my hands after a long day and possibly how she would feel on mine too. There was a deeper ache in me that needed to be satisfied. The safety of knowing my body belonged to someone else would soothe my mind. I would finally get some release if—

A knock on my window jolted me back into reality. She was standing on the other side of the glass with her hand above her eyebrows trying to shield herself from the early morning sun. Her body is now covered in an all-white cotton sleepwear set that was hastily thrown on. I linger on the movement of her breasts and the outline of her hips as her hand gently catapults the most delicate parts of her body into a wave. The fabric held no regard for a woman’s eye like mine. The silhouette of her dark nipples and sloping v-line at the waistband of her flowing shorts pulled at a string that hadn’t been yanked in a long time. I felt a thrum deep below my belt. I turn the key to roll the window and she smiles slightly, lips slathered in a pinkish gloss that caught my attention immediately.

“Hi,” She mutters.

“Morning.” I reply.

“Um, sorry I wasn’t—”

“You’re good. So, Princess?”

I regretted saying it until her smile grew into a chuckling laughter that echoed down the silent street. I grinned with her as her skin glistened from the pure sunlight, uninterrupted of any lingering elements.

“To be fair, we’ve lived in this house forever.” She adds.

“Uh-huh, well, no worries all that pink will be gone.” I glance down to her mouth and she retracts her lips to make them vibrate with a pop.

“In a way, I’ll miss it but it's time for something new.”

Those words hung in my mind and the cadence in which said it, implying something more than just new tiles and a coat of white paint.

“Right, have a nice day,” I say.

“Oh and Abby,” She adds, leaning into the window with her perfect fingers on the windowsill. “Can you tell me when you’re coming so I can at least be dressed?”

Before I could get a word in she was already heading back through the front door of her house.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

I sat on the sidewalk with my laptop and lawn chair, writing out a description for an assistant. I had been so used to doing everything on my own when I started but now I need to switch my methods before I can’t do it anymore. The team was getting along well with the porch and we were almost done, one week in advance, but I can’t count too much on their loud mouths to stay on task. It felt nice to sit in the sun and give my body a rest, I needed more of this. But now I was just staring at the cursor on the screen wondering what I needed an assistant to do.

As a woman who owns her own company…

(DELETE)

I am looking for someone who is …

(DELETE)

In need of an Administrative Assistant who can help with my everyday business needs. This includes filing records, sending invoices to clients, being the main contact for clients, and other tasks as assigned. If you are applying, provide a resume listing previous experience relevant to this job. Set hours of 30 per week may include, working in an office, on the job site, and traveling with me. Pay starts at $19.00 per hour. Please send your interest to [email protected]. Thank you.

I triple-checked my grammar to ensure there were no errors and posted it to all the job-hiring websites I could think of. I exhaled knowing the mess of my life would soon become organized with the assistance of someone more qualified than me to sort it out. I close my warm laptop walk around to the driver's seat and place it into my bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone watching me from the sidewalk.

As I lift my gaze I notice my stalker. She walks over to me, fully dressed in bright yellow athleisure and a smile. “I realized something.” She says, hands on the fat of her hips. I pause as I notice the contrast of the sunflower yellow against her skin. If I didn't know, I would mistaken her for the sun.

“And that is?”

“You told my dad you were going to mock-up something but never got what I wanted it to be. Doesn’t there have to be a meeting of some sort so you know what style I like?”

“I thought your style was black and gold?”

She stood just a foot away from me and I cast her body in my shadow, relieving her from the sun. I hovered over her but if she only knew how yielding I felt around her this persona would vanish.

“It is but I want to have some say in the creative process.” She tilts her head, milking me for every ounce of consideration.

“Of course. So, a design meeting?”

I cross my arms and not in a subtle way. It wasn’t an intentional distraction, just a habit.

“Yes.” She said, holding her eye contact with me.

“Fine. Cool,” I say and she chuckles.

A woman my age shouldn’t be saying cool.

“How does this work then?”

I open the door and bend over the seat to grab my notebook with pages crumbled and falling out.

“We schedule a meeting, I doodle a bit, and we come to an agreement. Will cost you extra though, most clients just trust my first design.” I shrug.

“Oh,”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Of course. How does tomorrow sound?”

“Oh coo— great. Tomorrow at … 3 pm?” I said, avoiding her gaze that has yet to leave my body.

“I can do that.”

“You can stop by my office tomorrow then, I will send you the address.”

#abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #lesbian #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #wlw and nblw only #wlw yearning #lesbian age gap #femme4butch #dyke #abby anderson #abby tlou

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extremelyblackandwhite · 8 months

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: things are picking up now xx

masterlist

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Waking up on a Friday was also the toughest thing to do. At least, it had become an issue ever since Sadie realised that the 5th day of the week usually meant the last one at kindie before she got to spend the next two days at home. In fewer words, the two year old had learned the concept of a regular working week which is a feat considering her father blatantly disregards the sanctity of a Monday to Friday work week in favour of a messier approach. Y/N was almost sure his motto was screw work-life balance; nevertheless, Sadie made it incredibly hard to bathe and dress with all her excitement with what to do over the weekend, specially since Steve was around.

She finished brushing and braiding Sadie's hair, straightening her uniform so she wouldn't get yet another passive aggressive note from the PTA mums complaining about tidy uniforms - as if it was possible to get a 2 year old to be tidy. The two went downstairs with Sadie running to the breakfast table once she saw some donuts laying around which she was sure to only eat the pink icing of and hand Y/N or Bucky the donut itself.

There was something ... off. Bucky was silently buttering a slice of toast and Steve was staring into the further wall which Y/N knew was not that interesting.

- Who died? - Y/N asked as she sat down.

- It's Friday morning, Y/N. Sorry if we're not singing Kumbaya my lord. - Bucky replied, taking a bite of his toast.

- Thank god, you can't hold a tune. - Y/N smirked, helping Sadie place a napkin on her lap. - We're gonna need to get Sadie a new uniform, by the way.

- A new one? - Bucky looked up from his plate. - Swear we bought her that one a few months ago.

- We need to get the winter uniform. She doesn't fit the one from last year and it's starting to get chilly.

- Take the AMEX and buy it today. - Bucky fished through his wallet before handing Y/N the gold card. - Oh, get her one of those lunchbox thingies. I saw some kids with them the other day.

- Hm, now describe such lunchbox thingie, Sergeant.

- What do you mean? The thingies the kids carry along with their lunchbox for soup or water. The round thing.

- A thermos? Why would Sadie need a thermos?

- Yeah Bucky, she's a 2 year old not a college student. - Steve said, handing Sadie a donut. - She doesn't need one.

- Y/N get her one. Get one for yourself too, you eat soup right?

- I have a thermos, thank you.

Sadie, as expected, ate the sprinkles and frosting off the donut and handed the half eaten donut to Y/N. She excused her from the table, kissing the top of her head and sending her on her merry way to wash her hands and get her backpack, leaving Y/N to bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen. Bucky followed behind like a puppy, carrying some leftover pastries and fruit to put in the fridge before they ended up with fruit flies.

- Are you going to Columbia today? - he said, opening the fridge nonchalantly.

- No. I'm going to come back home after dropping Sadie. I have some online meetings booked with some experts in the UK and France about some topics in my PhD and the library didn't have any available private rooms.

- I'll ask Steve to come down with me to the office then.

- That's not necessary. - Y/N loaded the dishwasher with the plates, looking at Bucky, taking a very good look. He didn't look as put together as he usually did. His hair, usually wavy yet gelled into place, was messy and he wasn't wearing his suit yet. - I'll just go to my bedroom.

- You can use my office. - was he trying to get on her good graces once more? - The internet signal is better there.

- It's your office, Sergeant. I'm not gonna use it.

- I absolutely hate it when you call me Sergeant. - he shut the fridge, leaning against it. - Look ...

He sighed, his eyes not meeting hers.

- I'm sorry. - those words came from his lips very slowly, as if it pained to say them and if Bucky were being honest it pained him to say them. Bucky wasn't sorry but that didn't mean he wanted Y/N to hate him forever. - It's not my place to interfere with your relationship.

- I know. - she shrugged. - If you think your opinion of my love life interferes with it in any way, you're wrong.

- I'm just trying to look out for you. There's a lot of wolves in New York.

- I'm not a country bumpkin, Sergeant. I know how to look after myself.

- So ... are you and Chris Davis dating then?

- That it none of your business, Sergeant.

- It actually is. - he smirked. - You see, you are my employee, he is my employee which means if two of my employees are dating they should tell HR.

- You're not HR, you're the CEO.

- Maybe I multitask, how about that?

- That would be illegal and a conflict of interests, Sergeant. Besides, why are you so interested in my relationship? Are you bored of yours?

- He's just not the type of guy I would picture you with.

Of course not. Bucky had always considered Y/N would end up with someone ambitious, someone who'd crawl and give blood, sweat and tears to get what they wanted. Chris Davis, although not a complete dunce, was not that. He was smart but he wasn't innovative - what he was good at was packaging old ideals to newer audiences. He didn't come up with new marketing ideas, nothing that hadn't been done and when he did it was usually under the guide of an executive. He wasn't his worse employee but he also wasn't his best and Bucky wanted Y/N to have the best.

- Clearly. - Y/N dried her hands. - As if you have a good track record of relationships.

- Is this about Anna? Are you still pissed off because of Anna?

- You can't treat people like crap and then expect them to forgive you.

- I know but you have to understand that me and Anna ...

- You are a father first, Sergeant. You can't potentially hurt your child because you're so blinded by this stupid notion of "a real family". You and Sadie are a real family, you don't need Anna and you can't force her. If Sadie was any older she could've gotten very hurt.

- I know but if it had gone well ...

- Bucky. - Y/N interrupted him. She didn't want to be mean, she didn't want to be hateful about a woman she'd never met, specially the woman who birthed Sadie. - If you think the woman who left a baby in front of your door and has never attempted contact would suddenly change your mind, you're naive.

- You wanna know what's funny? - he moved away from the fridge to get closer to her.

Y/N almost took a step back. She didn't like being close to Bucky, it was always weird for her. Bucky, despite being her boss, was an attractive man, an attractive and imposing figure and she sometimes would find herself divided between fear of what he would say and fear of what she usually did at night when she thought of him.

- I don't think anything is funny about that situation.

- Anna would've liked you. - he said before turning around, almost happy that he'd gotten her a bit speechless for a while, happy he got to be the dominant one for a bit. - And you would've liked Anna.

- I doubt I'd like any woman who would willingly sleep with you.

- She didn't like any woman who would willingly sleep with me either. - Y/N rolled her eyes, not really understanding what Bucky was trying to get at. He was always like this, jumped over bad moments looking for some peaceful solitude in an off hand joke or confusing statement. - Are we gonna continue being mad at one another?

- Who said I was mad at you?

- Fine, if you're not mad then take my office upstairs for your meetings.

Before Y/N could reply something regarding his very flawed logic who wouldn't win him any debate, Sadie came walking through the kitchen, dragging her backpack through the floor and her yellow raincoat so Y/N could help her onto the plastic garment.

- Hey squid. - Bucky lowered down to her help, taking over Y/N to help Sadie into her raincoat. - Do you want a thermos?

- What? - she looked at him eyes wide, probably not knowing what a thermos even was. The red head looked at her au pair, looking for clues about what her dad was talking about. Y/N just smiled and shrugged. - Yes.

- See? Told you she wanted a thermos. - Bucky picked her up to kiss her cheek, directing his voice towards Y/N.

- She doesn't know what a thermos is, Bucky. - Y/N took Sadie from him.

(...)

When she returned from dropping Sadie off, buying her an overpriced uniform and a thermos which she would probably only use by the time she was 12, she found an empty house. Bucky had made good on his promise, leaving a note telling her Steve was with him as well as where to find the key to the office. The office was usually locked due to Sadie, according to Bucky, having almost gotten hurt. If Bucky's dramatic retelling was to be believed, when Sadie had started to walk she'd manage to get into the office and grab a stapler which she was keen on using until Bucky caught her. However knowing Bucky and knowing 2 year old Sadie who still struggled to reach the handles of doors, she reckoned he was overreacting or probably saw something similar in one of those "scare the parents" TV shows.

Nevertheless, the office/study had been locked and Y/N had never had been inside, yet once she got inside, it looked like what she expected Bucky to have as a work space. It was white, bright and minimalist with a few knickknacks from when he had been stationed in Italy and some first version novels which had undoubtedly came from his mother. His desk was deep mahogany, neatly kept with all contents at a 90 degree angle.

She moved to seat on his chair, putting her laptop on the middle of her desk and logging into Zoom. She waited for the right time, her eyes hoovering over everything in his desk from the gold pens, to the tape and the photo frames. He had a big photo of Sadie when she was a newborn followed by a few others, yet what called her attention were two gold circled frames - one with a photo of Sadie and Y/N when she had first started to work for them and one of Y/N and Sadie at Christmas.

She didn't allow herself to dwell much on it, she had meetings to get to. Besides, this was nothing big. It was just a photo of his daughter that he liked which Y/N happened to appear in. She had bigger fish to fry now than wondering about Bucky.

(...)

The work day wasn't any better for Bucky. Steve was being, well, Steve and to describe Steve is to describe someone who likes playing both sides to get to a decision which everyone is happy with. He knew he shouldn't have brought up the stuff about his wife, Steve would never try to break a relationship, heck he wouldn't even think it. Nevertheless, now Steve and Y/N were upset at him - maybe they can unionise and start a little "We hate Bucky", maybe they'll get branded thermos.

- Sergeant Barnes? - his assistant knocked on the door. She was pretty, very pretty and Bucky was almost certain they'd slept together ... almost. Yet today not even the pretty assistant could sort his mood out. - Christopher Davis wants to talk to you.

- Christopher Davis? - oh yes, the best way to make his day, seeing Chris Davis. - What does he want?

- He says it'll be a quick word, Sergeant Barnes. Should I send him in?

- 5 minutes. - he sighed, closing his laptop. Maybe making Chris Davis squirm would make his day, yet again, he was sure the "We hate Bucky" club would not enjoy that. Besides, it was hair washing tonight for Sadie and last time he tried, he had ended up inside the bathtub.

Chris Davis walked into the office, the mere sight of him ignoring Bucky. Did Y/N seriously find that attractive? He was so bland, so boring, the only interesting thing about him was that he was rich and Bucky was almost certain he only finished his PhD because his godmother is Professor Anderson. Nevertheless, here he was, taking a seat in one of the chairs of his office without even asking. This is the guy who gets to see Y/N naked? Life really is unfair.

- What do you need Davis?

- I know this will probably be crossing a line but I was wondering if you could let Y/N have the weekend off.

- What Y/N? - he cocked a brow at him.

- My Y/N.

- My daughter's au pair Y/N? - Bucky rested against his chair, looking down at the man in front of him. - Why?

- I was thinking of taking her to the new restaurant downtown but she said she was busy with Sadie. I wouldn't ask but it's really hard to get reservations and I got one and I would love to take her.

Oh, this was fun.

- Y/N has always had the weekends off. She doesn't work weekends unless she wants to, specially not this weekend which I'll spend at home. Besides, she doesn't have a fixed work schedule.

- Oh ...

- Maybe fix your communication issues with her before you come and waste my precious time, Davis. You can go now.

(...)

Having meeting after meeting had really wasted all energy Y/N had and to congratulate herself for not crying when someone suggested another alteration to her project with a thick French accent, she decided to cuddle against one of Bucky's many small yet cuddly cashmere blankets in the couch of the living room watching Gilmore Girls. She was close to snoozing off when the front door opened and closed. It could be Bucky, Steve or a burglar but she was much too tired to actually check.

- Oh, Y/N, do I have some gossip to share with you. - Bucky. It was Bucky and it was the first time she'd heard him say the word gossip. That couldn't be good.

He walked with a douchey smile to stand in front of the TV, sitting on top of the coffee table and staring at her, just waiting for her to question him on it and she was much too tired to avoid playing his game.

- What? Someone you fucked got pregnant?

- Someone came into my office asking about you. I didn't know that you were gonna be busy with Sadie this week. Isn't Steve taking her to Coney Island?

- What?

- You're using me and my kid as an excuse not to go out with Chris Davis? - he chuckled. - What? Is he a bad lay or something?

- Oh shut up!

- Small dick?

- This is highly unprofessional. - she turned around to face the couch.

- And sleeping on my couch isn't? C'mon, tell me, Y/N. Are you tired to pretend to orgasm or have you just figured out he's just bland.

- You're such a child! - she got up, folding the blankets so she could get away from her but he kept going after her. - Why don't you go pick up your daughter?

- Steve has her. I wanna know more, I thought everything was okay in the Y/N-Chris relationship. Is he one of those guys who cries when he cums? Is that it? Is he a crier?

- Why won't you shut up?

- Or maybe he can't find your clit. You know, he can barely find the copy room sometimes and that's way bigger.

- He is perfectly fine, I just don't want to hang out and I didn't want to hurt his feelings but because you can't lie to save your goddamn life I know have to go.

- He's taking you to Le Coucou, you may want to brush your hair before you go. The poor thing fought so hard to get reservations but obviously you prefer to eat buttered noodles with Sadie.

- I have been to Le Coucou.

- I know, I took you there. - he smirked. - And here I was thinking you'd soon start bringing your boyfriend around.

- I don't want to go. I'm tired, I need to wash Sadie's hair tonight and that will take time and I am not in the headspace to get ready.

- I'm sure Chris would love it if you came in with a soaked white t-shirt.

- You're a dick, Bucky.

Before Bucky could continue with his teasing about it, Y/N's phone started ringing. She grabbed it from the counter and put it up to her ear as she saw Sadie's school number. Bucky watched, mostly hoping it was Chris so he could tease her some more but as the colour drained from her face, he realised he wasn't. She put her phone down and looked at Bucky.

- We have to go. - Y/N looked overwhelmed, looking around fo something. - Sadie has appendicitis. They called an ambulance and she's going to the New York-Presbyterian Hospital.

- Shit. - Bucky rushed to grab his keys.

- Where's her toy, where's a toy? - Y/N started throwing pillows around, looking for Sadie's cuddly toy.

- Y/N, let's go.

- NO! - she screamed at him. - She's scared and when she's scared she needs her toy and I knew, I knew she was a bit off when I dropped her off and I should've known better and I ...

- Y/N. - he held her shoulders, stopping her in place. - I'll go find her toy, get the car going and drive there.

- But yo ...

- I'll get a cab. Now you go and stay with her, I'll meet you there with the cuddly toy. Go.

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan/y/n #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky/you #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Vanilla Latte

Same pairing as Double Espresso and Farmer's Market and yeah, I guess this is becoming a fic. thing. something. It's becoming something.

Simon Riley/reader 1.8k words Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, no smut but this fic has mature themes. There is a man staring at you in the cafe.

There is a monster in your life.

It is a shapeshifter, a horrible creature that no one else seems to be able to see. During the day, it is fairly unsuspecting and blends in with its surroundings, but at night, it sheds its skin and rears its ugly head, exposing it’s true nature when it drags itself up the stairs of your apartment complex to bang on your door, its rage filled voice calling your name over and over, forcing you into your bedroom closet, where you sit in the dark with your hands clamped over your ears. Sometimes, it hurls its entire body against your door to break it down, and you hide in your locked bathroom, knees to your chest in your tub, little pocketknife handle digging into the skin of your palm.

No one seems to know your monster exists.

No one cares that the monster followed you across an entire ocean when you tried to run away from it.

Your neighbors have turned a blind eye. Those who do see, have fallen to the bystander effect.

The ones who were organized to protect people like you from monsters say they can’t do anything unless you have proof, or it gets worse.

You don’t bother to tell them that if it does get worse, you’ll probably just be dead.

Sometimes, you see it on the street during your walk home from work, standing with its hands in its pockets, dark eyes tracking your every step, waiting for its chance to strike. Sometimes, it follows you onto the train, a car ahead, watching you between the shoulders of the people that separate you from it, their presence the only thing preventing it from making you disappear.

You tell yourself that eventually it will get bored and move on, that it’ll go away, leave you alone for good. But days pass, and it still drags itself up your apartment stairs to torment you, still stands on the sidewalk across from your building.

Sometimes, when it’s really bad, you wonder if you should just open the door and let it kill you. Let it take what it wants, let it make you disappear forever. You think it might not be so bad, not living, if it meant you were free of the monster.

But then, the sun rises. The monster leaves and the day begins. The air is warm, and the birds chirp, and the breeze is just right, and it’s enough. It’s enough to remind you that you can feel something other than despair. It’s enough to keep you going.

And right now, that’s really all you can ask for.

“Oh good. Was starting to worry.” Your boss, Tiana, or just Tee as she constantly reminded you, breathes a sigh of relief when you come through the back door. Your apron comes off the hook easily, and then over your head before the waist ties wrap around your middle. It’s even still got some flour caked on it from yesterday. You shoot her a pointed look.

“You know, if you want to take large orders, just schedule me ahead of time, that way we’re not running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

“It was last minute, and I couldn’t really say no. But! I am here and will help you with whatever you need.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You pull the laptop that’s sitting on the prep table towards you and scan the typed-out numbers. “Forty-five people?” you raise an eyebrow. You called me in for this? She gives you a helpless look, and you roll your eyes affectionately while she puts a mug of coffee down in front of you, heat pulsing off of it like it’s practically boiling. “Alright, let’s get to it I guess.”

Steam floats in the air from the ceramic mug that’s cradled between your fingers. You’re sitting in the back, leaned against the stainless-steel sink, sipping your fifth cup of coffee, waiting for the dishwasher to finish while Tee rings up and helps load the order that you just cranked out.

You don’t do any of that. You don’t even talk to customers unless you absolutely have to, and even then, it’s less than enticing. You leave it for Alex, who works the counter, and puts up with everyone’s bullshit with charm and grace.

You yawn, trying not to melt into the floor, wrists sore from rolling dough for the last three hours. Outside, traffic on the street hums, busses and cars and bikes all moving in the same direction down the little one-way avenue, horns honking and music occasionally blaring out someone’s window. Usually, this was your favorite time of day. After you’ve finished the afternoon rush, the prep table has been scraped and scrubbed, most of the dishes are washed, and there’s one left over croissant with your name on it. It was in these kinds of small moments, that you still felt like yourself, felt like you could enjoy things. Like you were still just a baker, just the pastry chef, just another person, out there living their life. Not a husk of a human, always looking over your shoulder, hiding from a monster.

The back door chimes, jolting you from your spiral, and Tee hands you a folded over banknote.

“They tipped. Generously.” You frown. You don’t take tips because you’re a full wage hourly, and she knows this.

“Give it to Alex.”

“They get one too. We all do… By the way, the new scones? Orange vanilla?”

“They’re vegan.”

“I know. They’re amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thanks, Tee.” You want to sound enthusiastic about the praise, but you’re too exhausted to get the inflection right. Instead, you just sound like a deflated balloon. Or Eeyore. Sympathy flickers across her face. You turn before she can watch your expression shift into annoyance. It’s not her fault. “Dishes are almost done.” You tell her, pulling yourself free of the apron and shrugging on your knit sweater. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Every day after work, you walk the six blocks to the corner café to sit by the window with your book and a decaf latte. Vanilla, usually, or caramel if you’re feeling like it. You settle at the little table that’s almost always open because it’s rickety, balancing on three legs because the fourth one is missing a foot. You have an exchange worked out here since you bake their pastries, they give you all you can drink espresso, and you get to curl up with your book like you’re a cat every day after work. You feel safe here. You’ve never felt exposed, the café is off a side street, and as far as you knew, you’ve never been followed. You’ve never seen your monster outside here, or in this area really at all. Never seen it on Sunday mornings at the farmer’s market, or at the cramped, darkly lit bar that you sometimes stop at to grab a pint when you’re feeling up to it.

You hope that means it doesn’t know too much about your routines, but you can’t be too sure. Even so, your monster isn’t a danger to other people, just to you, never approaching you when there are others around, and that small fact brings you small slivers of relief. At least when it finally gets you, no one else will have to watch. No one else will have to suffer.

You’re reading page three hundred and two of The Name of the Wind and drinking your second decaf vanilla latte of the day, when the incident (which is what you’re calling it, in your mind) happens. The girl behind the counter is calling a name, her voice pitched with irritation, and the change in her tone immediately puts you on red alert. You scan the shop, eyes landing on a massive man with a mask and a hoodie on who’s standing by the counter, oblivious to Clarissa, who's just trying to get him to pick up his order.

He’s oblivious, because he’s staring at you. His gaze never falters, the intensity of his eyes kicking your nervous system into high gear, and you physically clamp down on yourself, so you don’t sprint out of the coffee shop right then and there.

It’s not the monster. That is a man. This man is not your monster.

Clarissa gives you a helpless look and gestures to the queue that’s quickly forming in front of her register. You give her a nod in return, and stride over to where the behemoth of a man stands frozen, Patrick Rothfuss still in your hand. You take a closer look at him, and swallow when you see his eyes, their amber reflection gorgeous in the afternoon sun. Something hot stirs in you, prickles across your skin and you take a sharp inhale. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the pull of attraction, felt the presence of butterflies in your stomach, that you almost mistake what you’re feeling for fear.

Something pulls you closer to him, like you're tethered together on an invisible string.

“Sir?” the man in the mask doesn’t respond. He just… stares at you. Okay… weird? Is this dude on drugs? “Sir.” You drop the question at the end of your statement adding a little more authority, trying to get his attention, and it seems to work, because his spine straightens, and then he nearly stumbles backwards, away from you like you’ve struck him. You blink in confusion. “I think that’s yours.” You point to the white cup that Clarissa was gesturing to, but he still ignores you. “The uh, double espresso?” Something is off here. You pull the tiny cup from the counter and hold it out to him, imagining he’ll just take it from you and be on his way but when he doesn’t move, worry starts to build in your mind. What if he can’t hear? What if he’s having a stroke? What if something is wrong? “Sir? Are you… is everything okay?” You take a tiny step closer to him.

He steps back quickly, banging into the glass side door, and it swings out behind him. A second passes, and then he’s gone, turning on his heel in the breeze, disappearing down the corner while you stand in the café, a double espresso in your outstretched hand.

#it will come back #peaches writes #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2

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ofstoriesandstardust · 3 months

Text

chapter 9 - i know it won't work (b.r.b.)

a/n: after ten months of this chapter being at an absolute standstill, i have finally, finally finished this chapter. as always, @gretagerwigsmuse was an extraordinary human being for reading through all of it for me. i don't know if anyone is still interested in this series, but i'm posting it for anyone who is

summary: You're convinced it won't work, despite's Bradley persistence.

flight risk masterlist

warnings: alcohol, insecurities, swearing, this one is a bit heavy but has a hopeful ending

word count: 3.8k

"i've had the thought, tried to work it out through anxious pacin'/what if i'm not worth the time and breath i know you're saving?"

The front door opens as the plate clangs in the dishwasher, forcing you to cringe. You hold your breath, hoping it's not enough to catch the attention of Bradley.

Not just yet.

You aren't ready.

You know you have to talk to Bradley at some point. Tonight, preferably. But still, you're worried that staying might have been the wrong choice, that he doesn't want you here after this morning.

You're afraid to hear him tell you that you have to leave.

Bradley cautiously slips into the kitchen, not quite meeting your eye, almost like he's afraid. His face is hesitant as he cautiously looks up from the floor, to see you standing there, bent awkwardly over the dishwasher you'd been loading for him.

"You're here." He breathes out, almost unsure. "You stayed." He stays put, seemingly thinking that if he takes another step forward, speaks any louder than he currently is, you'll dissipate into thin air. You grimace at the thought that your continued reaction of leaving did that to him.

You shut the dishwasher, wincing as the ceramic plates clang together as you do, before standing straight, wringing your hands together. "Yeah." You breathe, unsure of where to look. "I- I didn't want to leave things between us like that."

He almost looks surprised by that answer, taking a cautious step forward. "So you wanna work things out?"

You lean up against the counter, eyes falling away from his. "I don't know if we can."

He lets out a forced laugh, something underneath you can't read, something that you want to say might be disbelief. "Come fucking on, Sunshine. You're supposed to be in fucking Boston right now. But you're not. You're here. That's gotta count for something, right?"

You push yourself away from the counter, turning away from him. "I don't know, Bradley. Don't you ever think that-" You pause, worrying your lip.

"What?"

You shrug before turning to face him again. "Don't you ever think that if we were supposed to be by now, we would've been?"

Bradley's face softens under his hesitancy. "Sunshine, we were kids when we met. We both had our own baggage and problems; we didn't know any better!" He steps closer to you, closing the distance by almost half. "I firmly believe that if we had gotten together at UVA, we would've blown it."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "Great."

He reaches out for you this time, bringing you back to face him even as you try to turn away again. "Sunshine, please stop reading into everything I say as if I mean the worst. I mean that we were kids and we were young and stupid and traumatized and both just trying to survive. Anything we felt as kids, it wouldn't have been enough for us to persevere against what the real world would've thrown at us." He squeezes your forearms, finally letting you go. "Look at what happened to fucking Tommy and Ella, yeah? They were the perfect couple with the perfect family that ended in divorce because they were kids when they did all that. But look at Eli and Bailey-"

"We're not them." You say, eyes narrowing as you cross your arms. "Stop fucking comparing us to people who don't give a shit about me."

He sighs. "That's not what I meant." He takes a step backwards, running a hand through his hair. "Sunshine, I was not equipped or emotionally available enough to be with you while we were at UVA. I was halfway convinced I was unlovable." His voice breaks as he looks at you pleadingly.

"Bradley, I-" You blow out a breath, shaking your head.

"Sunshine, I've never kept a solid relationship. You know that, a million people have told you that. Even when the other girls were perfect, they weren't you. I have always wanted to be with you Sunshine. I craved you like I crave flying a jet, or spending time with Maverick. You're an integral part of my life and who I am Sunshine, that's never going to go away."

You're unable to bring yourself to say anything, just look at him. Tears are stinging at your eyes for the umpteenth time in the last 24 hours, the emotion crawling up your throat, hearing him talk about how much you mean to him.

"Do you love me?" He whispers softly. “Because I love you - so much.”

You scoff at his question, that Bradley could have ever had any doubt how you felt about him. "Of course I fucking love you. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since I was 19 and in a shitty relationship you were begging me to get out of. I was in love with you when we were on a fucking camping trip and woke up to you cuddling me. I was in love with you when you were 25 and called me to tell me you were going to Top Gun for the first time and I was in love with you three months ago when you called me and asked me to come visit you. I was in love with you then and I'm in love with you now. I've never stopped, I don't know how."

He frowns as a beat passes. "Why do I get the feeling there's a but coming?"

"It's not realistic, Bradley! It would never- it would never work. We live on opposite coasts. I-" You cut yourself off, unsure of how to vocalize all the doubt you're feeling.

"Isn't the way we feel about each other enough?"

"No!" You nearly shout. "This isn't some Disney movie Bradley, where we all just get a happy ending! We live entirely different lives on opposite coasts. What do you want me to do? Give up my career? Sit here and play happy military wife forever? I can't just- drop everything to come here because I love you."

“That’s not what I’m saying! I’m not saying that you- you have to give up everything for me, much less be confined to the title of your marital status. I’m just saying- you made a sacrifice once before for me.”

"That's not even in the same stratosphere of being the same thing."

He cocks his head. "Then fine, I'll drop everything to be with you."

You scoff again. "Bradley, no."

"Why not?" He demands. "I don't care what it takes. I just want to be with you."

"Bradley, I'm not letting you give up your career, your friends, your relationship with your godfather! You just got Maverick back, for fuck's sake. I can't-" You pause, your throat beginning to feel tight. "I'd never forgive myself if I took that from you." You struggle to swallow around the lump in your throat as a hot tear rolls down your face. "You have a really good thing going here Bradley. I would never ask you to give that up."

"You're not asking! I would give it all up if it meant I got to keep you, to have you."

You tilt your head. "You know that's not true." You whisper hoarsely. "You know that I'm not- I'm not the girl you should give it all up for."

Bradley’s face falls, a look of defeat replacing it. "What will it take for you to see that you're all I want Sunshine?"

You shake your head, turning away from him as you walk towards the kitchen window. "I can not believe I ended up here." You mutter. "How did I end up here?"

Bradley doesn't say anything.

"You know, I always swore I would never get married and because of some stupid decision we made as kids, I did. I swore I would never fall in love and yet because I trusted some stupid kid, I did." You groan, hands reaching up to rub your temples. "I should've been smarter."

"Woulda, coulda, shoulda Sunshine." Bradley says, but you barely hear him, the panic playing out in your mind.

How had you ended up here?

"I'm fucking stupid for doing this to myself, I know how this ends. My parents fucking hate each other and they had kids who hate them and each other. I've got no idea what good love looks like and-"

"Sunshine." Bradley says firmly, stepping back into your swimming vision. "You are not your parents, do you understand me? You're not like, destined to fuck this up, okay?" He reaches out softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before kissing the top of your head softly. "Please, Sunshine. Just let me love you. Please, that’s all I’m asking right now.”

“And then what happens? What happens after I’ve let you love me and I’ve fallen even more in love with you? We won’t be able to make dinner together every night or snuggle up on the couch watching TV. I won’t be able to sleep beside you or run errands together. No - no, Bradley. I don’t even have all of those things fully now, I’m not gonna let myself have the dream of it happening one day.”

The defeat in Bradley shows in his stature before you ever see it on his face.

His shoulders slump, exhaustion showing in the lines on his face. He takes a step back from you, hands falling to his sides as he looks at you. Really looks at you.

“You’re gonna leave again, aren’t you?” His voice is so soft, you’re surprised you can hear the way it cracks in the middle.

“Bradley.” You respond, voice just as soft as his.

There is nothing more than you want in that moment to stay, to tell him you’d stay with him forever, to do whatever it took.

But that fear, the fear that had kept you and your feelings at bay all these years, is stronger as you look at him.

“It would never work.”

“It could.”

“It can’t.”

The sheer devastation that crosses Bradley’s face at your surety is almost enough to make you second-guess your own words.

“Please don’t make me say goodbye to you again, Sunshine.”

Yoru throat is tight as you feel the familiar sting of tears in your waterline.

“Bradley, I can’t.”

Bradley’s eyes are glassy, haunted.

It’s a look that haunts your dreams all the way back to Boston.

You set the phone back down on the coffee table, switching music on as you blink away the sting of the lack of notifications on your messages app.

You don’t know why you keep waiting – expecting, really – for Bradley to text you.

You think you made it pretty clear how you feel about him. About where the two of you were going from here.

The Archer plays softly in the background as you grab the bottle of wine out of the bag, scrunching your nose as the chocolate at the bottom of the bag.

You didn’t even really like Ferrero Rocher chocolate but apparently the you that had been throwing yourself a pity party an hour ago was miserable enough to buy it.

You sigh, uncorking the bottle as the song on the tiny bluetooth speaker that sat atop your stove switches over and floats out through your kitchen.

You pause as you recognize the first few keys of the song, groaning as you set the bottle back down on the countertop before walking a few feet to grab your phone.

Sure enough, the familiar album cover of good riddance looks back up at you as you quickly swipe away from the song that had come up on your shuffle.

“Fucking Spotify.” You mutter, slipping your phone into the pockets of the sweats you’d been dying to put on all day.

Three months of traipsing around San Diego in shorts and leggings all the time had ruined you from ever comfortably wearing slacks again.

You only just barely make it through your pour before the buzzer goes off, causing you to flinch.

“Jesus.” You mutter as you re-cork the bottle.

You sigh, picking the glass up and taking a sip of the shitty five-dollar bottle of wine you’d picked up on the way home from the office. You hear the main door open from downstairs and part of you wonders if your boss followed through on her threat of giving you a fruit basket.

(“So, how was San Diego?” Your boss asks.

You sigh, glancing up at her from your monitor before looking back at the email you’re typing out.

“That bad, huh?”

She shuts the door of your office behind her, sitting in the chair across from you.

“Was expecting you to come back with some good news, especially with you taking a few extra days.”

You swallow, closing your tabs you turn your attention back to her.

“I- uh, married this guy in college. It was really- spur of the moment. We were young and stupid and-” You shake your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “It just ended up not working out. I went to San Diego so we could get a divorce.”

“Oh shit.” She mutters. She shifts in her seat before she nods to herself.

“What if I sent you a fruit basket? Would that make it better?”)

You wonder if chocolate covered pineapple will taste good with cheap white wine as you fish your phone out of your pocket, typing out a text to her to ask if she had indeed sent you a fruit basket when there's a knock at the door.

“Coming.” You call out before you sigh, setting the phone down on the countertop as you walk a few paces over to the door, before pulling it open, wine glass in hand.

And then you almost drop it.

He hadn’t, not for a second, considered that following you to Boston was a poor choice.

Not when he had to ask Ice to pull strings to get him approved leave.

Not when he booked a last minute flight in the base parking lot on a newly-downloaded Delta app.

Not when Mav had to gently suggest he book a hotel room in case things didn’t go as planned.

(“B, I think you should consider maybe booking a hotel room in case this all goes to shit.” Mav says, sitting down on his bed as he packs his duffle bag.

He freezes, looking at his godfather.

“Fuck, I didn’t even think of that.”

His godfather heaves an overexaggerated sigh, nodding. “Yeah, I figured.”)

Not when he spent a majority of his time in the San Diego airport trying to figure how to take the T from the airport to your apartment in Brookline.

(You’d explained it to him once, something about a blue line and a green line and a Maverick stop, but he’s pretty sure he was admiring the way your eyes sparkled in the sun as the two of sat on the grassy lawn of the courtyard in Balboa Park and decidedly not listening to what you were telling him.)

Not when he took a detour, getting off at a different stop to go to the hotel room Mav and Penny had booked for him and not when he’d taken another stop to get you flowers.

Not when he’d pressed the buzzer for your apartment and not as he walked up the wooden stairs to your third floor apartment.

No, the first time he second-guesses any of his decisions of the last forty-eight hours is when you open your front door, wine glass in hand, music playing in the background, and stare at him.

The flowers feel sweaty in his hand, the brown paper crinkling as he swallows, suddenly forgetting everything he wanted to say.

“I- shit, are you busy Sunshine? I- sorry, I didn’t even think-”

You shake your head, turning to set your wine glass on the entryway table as the music softly plays in the background. “Bradley, what are you doing here?” You ask, shaking your head again as your eyes flit over him.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

“I thought, at first, that maybe you didn’t- you didn’t love me back or care- care about me in the way I did you. But after that last night-” He shakes his head. “I know now that it’s not that you don’t love me. You keep saying that this could never work. And I- I need to show you that it could. It can work, and we will make it work.” He licks his lips, glancing down at the flowers in his hands.

“Bradley-”

“No, Sunshine, I need you to hear me out. Please.” You give a little nod, eyes wide, and he sighs again. “I have it all mapped out, all the weekends I’m free to come visit you here. I get home around 6 every night, which is only 9 your time here. You’ve always been a bit of a night owl, so there’s at least a few hours each night we can FaceTime while I make dinner. We can even do dinner dates on the weekend and call each other while we cook together. We can make this work. We’ve made it work enough for the Navy to believe us all these years, now- now it’s just doing all the things we said we were doing all along. I want to be with you and I don’t care how long it takes, we will get this right. We can do this for however long we need to, for however long it takes, I just- I just want to love you.”

He swallows as his hands jerk out, offering you the flowers as he finally lets himself breathe. You glance down at the flowers and back up to him, eyes wide.

He glances down at them, realizing you aren’t going to take the flowers from him and his next words leave him without his allowance.

“I just want to kiss my wife. Just once.”

The seconds tick by without you saying or doing anything.

It’s excruciating.

He feels his face grow warm as he suddenly realizes how ridiculous this all is. This, the flowers, the showing up announced, the flying cross country, all of it.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- Okay, I’m- I’m sorry for bothering you Sunshine. I should go.”

He nods, going to turn, when you surge forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling his lips down to yours.

The flowers fall out of his hands as he scrambles to cup either side of your head.

The kiss is soft as it is passionate, a juxtaposition you never thought could come from a kiss. His lips are chapped against yours and at the angle you’ve got him at, his nose is nudged against your cheek and yet it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s dizzying, the relief and peace that comes from finally knowing what it’s like to kiss him.

It’s the movement of one of his hands down to your shoulder that grounds you, causing you to pull away. You don’t go far, just enough to look him in his eyes.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You say after a beat, a giddy half-laugh escaping you as the adrenaline thrums through you. “Come inside.” You say, tugging on his shirt. “We should stop giving my neighbors a free show. Mrs. Robinson’s probably watching us through her peephole.”

Bradley lets out a small laugh at the mention of your nosy across the hall neighbor, before bending down to scoop up the flowers. He turns to you as you gently shut the door behind him.

“Do you have a vase for me to put these in?”

“Do I have a- Bradley, what do you take me for? An adult?” He laughs, a real laugh this time, and the sound warms your heart. “Here.” you walk a few paces into your kitchen, Bradley trailing behind you. You open up one of the cabinets, pulling out a tall pint glass.

Bradley’s eyes grow at the sight of it. “Is that the cup from when we went to Oktoberfest? While we were in college?”

You nod, filling the glass at your sink before turning back to him.

While at UVA, your group of friends had gone to Oktoberfest. You’d been too young to drink at the time, a year younger than the rest of them, and Bradley had taken pity on you, giving you his pint glass at the end of the day since you wouldn’t be able to get your own.

You take the flowers from him, trimming the stems off before setting them in the water. You grab the glass, nodding your head to your couch.

“C’mon, let’s sit.”

Bradley follows you as you sit down, if a bit hesitant.

Hesitation, caution, carefree laughter, kindness, love, they’re all looks on Bradley you know well.

But this, the timidness, in his eyes, in the gentleness of his movements, in the lines around his small smile is not something you’re familiar with.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, scooting closer to him once he finally does sit down next to you on the couch.

He swallows before glancing around your place.

“This is cute. Cozy.”

“Better in person than in the pictures I showed you, I bet?” He nods, before glancing back at you. “B, I can’t believe you’re here.” You whisper softly, resisting the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his.

“You still haven’t told me if you want to try.” He whispers, hazel eyes meeting yours. There’s that timidness again, hidden his voice. “I really want to try, Sunshine.”

This time, you don’t resist the urge and take his hand in yours. You crawl closer to him, placing yourself gently in his lap. His hands automatically wrap around your middle, even if you can still see the nerves in his eyes.

“Bradley, I want to try.” You whisper softly. “I-”

You falter, struggling to find the words to articulate why you had changed your mind.

Maybe it was the love Bradley had for you, was so openly displaying.

Maybe it was the determination he’d had that this could work.

Maybe it was the effort it took to follow you out here.

Maybe it was the knowledge that your fear would deny you the best thing you’d ever had, the best person you’d ever had.

Maybe it was all of it, knowing you’d spend the rest of your life regretting it if you didn’t.

Bradley would be your one that got away. He’d be the one you’d think of what ifs when he inevitably got married to another girl, had kids, and a picket white fence future.

“Sunshine?” Bradley prompts softly.

The thought alone makes you nauseous. You couldn’t let that happen.

“I wanna try, B. I wanna try so bad. I have to try.”

The smile Bradley gives you in return is soft, yet no less sweet and full of love before he presses another kiss to your lips.

“Then we’ll try.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #flight risk

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littleskeletonprincessss · 2 months

Text

Stepbro Schlatt pt 2

to @lvrj4mie, @princessbiteme0o0, countless anons, and EVERYONE ELSE here's Part 2 to Stepbro Schlatt.

(SMUT Minors go away)

"Alright. It's your kids turn to do the dishes" your mom said, as everyone finished up dinner.

Taking your plate to the sink you began to unload the dishwasher. Behind you, you could hear your parents leave the kitchen and felt Schlatt step next to you before beginning to rinse the dirty plates in the sink.

A few minutes later you sense Schlatts eyes on you and notice he's shifted closer. His arm ghosts across your back and his hand lands on the counter next to you, moving behind and trapping you against the sink.

"You look pretty today." He whispers in your ear before moving down to lay lazy kisses against your neck.

Stopping yourself from instinctively relaxing into his strong chest you glance over your other shoulder listening for any signs of your parents. Hearing nothing you lean back into your stepbrother.

"I thought you'd like this dress." You say with a smirk, running your fingers along the thin halter straps holding the thin fabric over your chest. "Oh I do cupcake," Schlatt starts, teeth grazing over your bare shoulder. "But so did every other fucker at school. Fucking undressing my baby girl with their eyes, thinking about you the way only I can..."

His large hand circles around to your chest, harshly squeezing your breast before sliding down to cup between your thighs.

"Schlatt..." you gasp, knowing someone could walk in at any moment.

"Shh baby. We can't let mom and dad know can we? Imagine what they'd do if they found out that their sweet-" his hand lifts the hem of your dress slightly, "innocent-" once his hand is high enough he slips it into your panties "angel were letting her own stepbrother fuck her sweet little pussy, huh?"

Gripping the sink you brace yourself against the feeling of Schlatt's thick fingers dragging too slowly through your wet slit humming a moan, letting your head drop.

"Fuck..." you whisper.

"You like that baby?" Schlatt asked, his voice seemingly in your head.

"Uh-huh..." you managed to moan out.

"Hmm, good girl." Schlatt continue for a moment before all together taking his hand back and continuing to unload the dishwasher leaving you whimpering in betrayal "Schlatt.." you whine.

"Hush, sweetheart. There's more where that came from. Now we better finish the dishes before mom comes in." he finishes with a wink and a soft spank.

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

After all the clean dishes were put away and the dishwasher was started with a fresh load Schlatt wrapped his arm around your waist again.

"How about you stay in my bed again tonight? Would you like that sweet stuff?" He presses a kiss against the side of your head.

Since a month ago when you and Schlatt started your taboo relationship you'd slept almost every night in his arms. You were always careful to make sure your alarm was set so you could wake up before either of your parents and sneak back to your cold bed before they started getting ready for work.

One night your mom found you trying to sneak into Schlatt's room. When she asked what you were doing you told her that you needed to use the bathroom and yours was out of toilet paper. She seemed to buy it, but you didn't want to risk her noticing you not leave so you only went in for a quick, albeit heated kiss goodnight before heading back to your room.

Smiling at his question you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. As he tried slipping his tongue into your mouth you heard someone coming down the stairs that lead into the kitchen.

In a flash Schlatt's head was buried in the fridge, feigning looking for a snack leaving you looking stupid in the middle of the kitchen floor. Snapping yourself out of the stupor you do the only thing you can think to do at the moment and--wash your hands? You could hear Schlatt trying to hide his chuckling from the fridge.

"Schlatt, honey I need you to put on a load of laundry today. Your room reeks of teenage boy and...all that entails." Your mom came in the kitchen. You didn't need her to specify that the smell emanating from his room was cum. And she was right, she just didn't know it wasn't solely his.

"Whatever." He responds, putting back up the asshole façade.

"Oh, Y/N sweetheart. Remember Samuel Cooper? From when you were little?"

"The boy I used to play house with?" You saw Schlatt slightly pull his head out of the fridge out of the corner of your eye.

"Yes! His parents have to go out of town for a couple days and I offered to let him stay here while they're gone."

"That's nice of you, mom" You said, not sure where this was going. You and Sammy were friends growing up, but as you got older you drifted apart and after the wedding and you moved, you lost contact all together.

"I was thinking maybe he could stay in your room. We could move you into Schlatt's for the time being. If that's okay with him." Your mom stated, turning to look at Schlatt.

"Yeah, fine." Schlatt said, his tone cool and uncaring, but you knew better and noticed the tinge of excitement behind it.

Briefly resting her palm on his cheek your mom left the kitchen. Schlatt looked at you with his mischievous eyes before sauntering closer and pulling you into his arms, burying his head in your neck and blowing kisses, making you giggle.

"Schlatt, stop."

"Can't help it. Get to have my perfect girl in my arms every night without hiding it." He smiles against your skin, making your lips tilt into one of their own.

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

The next day the doorbell rang while you were watching a movie. Alone, unfortunately, since Schlatt had gotten in trouble for failing science and was banished to his room to study until dinner.

"Y/N! Schlatt! Come in here!" Your mom called from the foyer.

Getting off the couch, turning back out of habit to make sure there weren't any stains, you walked in, stopping when your name was called.

"Y/N!"

"Sammy! Good to see you."

"I go by Sam, now actually." He said, pulling you into a hug.

"Ooh, Y/N got a boyfriend or something?" You heard a rough grumble from behind you.

"Hey, what's up man? I'm Sam." Sam introduced himself to Schlatt, holding his hand out. Schlatt, of course, being the man he is, took the outstretched limb as a challenge, taking Sam's hand, squeezing tightly as he shook.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jay." He left it at that.

"Don't worry about him, Sam. This is my stepson. He's very nice when he warms up to you." Your mom says, glaring at Schlatt.

"So Y/N do you want to watch a movie or something? Catch up a bit?"

"I'll join you." Schlatt interrupts before you can even answer.

"Nice try, young man. I believe you still have some Biology homework left. Now go." Your mom scolded. You caught Schlatt give Sam a look behind his back before climbing the stairs, grumbling.

"Now that you're here Sam i'm going to start dinner. Have fun you two." With that your mom left.

"Come on, living room is this way." You say.

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

Sitting down to dinner around the table Sam ended up on your left while Schlatt sat on your right. Jeremy was out of town for business so it was just you four and your mom decided it'd be nice to sit around the smaller kitchen table rather than in the dining room. Before any of you even started eating you felt Schlatt's hand splay across your upper thigh and squeeze before releasing and just resting there. Looking around you make sure no one noticed before shifting your foot around his ankle and beginning to rub.

"Prom is coming up soon, isn't it? Either of you planning on going?" Your mom asks. Glancing at Schlatt from the corner of your eye you look back down at your spaghetti.

"Probably not. I don't know who would ask me."

"You could hang out with my friends and I." Schlatt says.

"That's very kind of you, honey." Your mom praises. "I'm so glad you two have started getting along better. "

"Or-" Sam starts, "I could take you, Y/N."

You can feel Schlatt's large fingers start to dig into your thigh and notice his jaw clench slightly.

"Oh, Sam. Thank you. That's- that's very sweet of you." You blush, suddenly very interested with your plate.

The rest of dinner passed pretty uneventful. You felt awkward, Schlatt was angry, and Sam and your mom were none the wiser to the situation playing out in front of them.

After dinner Schlatt helped your mom set up an air mattress on his floor while you grabbed all the clothes you'd need for the next few days out of your room.

Hearing knocking from behind, you turned to see Sam leaning on the doorframe.

"Thanks again for letting me use your room. It's really nice of you."

"It's no trouble. Schlatt is the one you should be thanking."

"I'll let you do that for me. Honestly, he kind of scares me."

Laughing to yourself at thanking Schlatt, and at Sams comment, you grab a final shirt out of your closet before fully turning to the door.

"Don't mind him. He's all bark and no bite."

"Maybe. Listen...about prom, I was thinking maybe we could get dinner before...somewhere nice. Kinda like a date."

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the hall. Sure, you wanted to go on dates, but you never thought about going on them with anyone else since the night you and Schlatt and first had sex. And you knew that with him, there would be no dates.

"Yeah, uh yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks, Sam." you said, turning to smile at him.

He smiled back briefly before the door behind you opened.

"Princess, your bed is all made up." Schlatt's deep voice mumbled.

"Anyway, goodnight Y/N. Schlatt." Sam shut the door behind him.

"I don't like him." Schlatt said, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

"You only don't like him because he's got a six pack." You said, poking his soft stomach.

"You don't mind my lack of one when I'm on top of you." He whispers, lips pressed against your ears as he pulls you back into his room.

Tossing blankets loosely on the air mattress Schlatt lies you back on his bed, pulling your pants down before settling himself between your thighs.

"Time to say goodnight, Tootsie Pop. Gotta give my honey a proper one."

"You're the corniest motherfu--God dammit, shit!" His tongue pressing flat against your labia cuts you off, his brown eyes smirking up at you.

"Shh baby. Let me taste my good girl."

"Just- hurry. We can't let mom know." You rush out, spreading your legs, inviting him in.

"Don't tell me what to do." He says, lightly biting your thigh, making you jump before he shifts his focus on your clit, pulling it between his lips, sucking on it. "i'm gonna enjoy you as long as I fucking want. Gonna enjoy my fucking pussy whenever I want, too."

With that, Schlatt pressed your legs back further, moaning into you, wet slurping noises filling your ears, the pleasure too great for fear of it filling the room to even cross your mind.

Feeling the pressure building in your tummy you press your hand tight against your mouth. Tears trailing down your cheeks you try pushing Schlatt away, your legs betraying you, crossing behind his head, keeping him close.

"There you go, baby. Gonna come for me?"

"Uh huh. Please Schlatt...." you whimpered.

"What was that? You gotta ask correctly babygirl. C'mon, beg me again."

"Daddy, please?" tears began to run down your cheeks out of frustration and desperation. "Please let me cum for you?"

"Awe there's my sweetheart. My sweet princess. Come on, baby, come for me. Come all over my tongue." He half mumbles, diving back between your legs.

With a final flick of his talented tongue you feel that familiar feeling of an orgasm wash over you, making you pant into your hand, trapping the scream you so badly wanted to let free.

"F-Fu-So-Mmm'so good." you cry, almost melting into his pillow as he crawls up next to you, licking his lips and pressing kisses up your stomach, arms, neck and finally to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his mutton chops.

"I'm glad you liked it, Pretty. Now you lay there, looking sexy as fuck while I go get something to clean you up a bit so we can go to sleep because you are goddamn exhausting." He laughs, rolling off his bed and stepping towards his bathroom. Stopping at his closet he pulls out a sweatshirt throwing it to you. "Put that on and get comfy, gorgeous."

Smiling softly you peel off your now sweaty t-shirt, slipping into his sweatshirt, and lying back against his pillow, opening your arms for him after he comes out and wipes you down with a warm rag.

"G'night, baby" he yawns, snuggling into your chest.

A/N OKAY I'M SORRY GUYS HERE'S THIS THERE'S PROBABLY GONNA BE A PART 3

#schlatt #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt smut #jschlatt smut

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ladylooch · 8 months

Text

How Would I? - Nico Hischier

A/N: I am going to be honest and say I am actually nervous to post this. I went back and forth on if I needed to soften this up. Ultimately, I feel it is much better as is. But this is definitely dark, so please read at your own discretion!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Robbery, assault, broken bones, pregnancy talk, violence.

“Hi.” I whisper to my husband via FaceTime. My feet gently rock Lucie and I on the rocking chair in her room. Nico smiles excitedly when he sees my face. He is leaning against the brick wall of the Prudential Center. The team is having a Dine with the Devils charity event at the arena.

“Hi.” Nico murmurs back. “She asleep?”

“Yeah.” I flip the camera so he can see Lucie’s angelic face. She had a big day playing with Lio at an indoor play house, then having pizza for dinner.

“Good. Her and Lio have fun?”

“So much.” I smile, turning the camera back onto me.

“Cause trouble too?”

“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “They conspired by hiding in the upper slides. Only came out when Emma started yelling at them in Swiss German.” Nico chuckles. “The other parents gave her quite the look.” Emma holding her pregnant belly with each heavy inhale added another layer to the picture.

“I’m sure.” He sighs, glancing up and giving a polite nod as a group of fans walks by to the locker room for their tour. “I should be home in an hour or so. Things are wrapping up.”

“Sounds good.” I adjust the screen in my hand. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too, babe. See you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.” We pucker our lips for smooches, then click off. “Okay, Luc.” I whisper, then stand. My almost five month bump protrudes out as I maneuver Lucie into her bed. She startles a bit, gripping onto her penguin pillow pet. I back away quietly, then shut the door completely behind me.

I hold my belly as I walk back down the stairs. I feel so huge this pregnancy. With Lucie, it seemed like I stayed small until the very end when she began gaining a pound a week. But with this daughter, I’ve been popping since last month. I scratch at the itchy skin around my belly button then head into the kitchen. I finish loading the dishwasher, reaching around for the detergent in the bottom cabinet. I hear the front door open and foot steps on the rug in the entry way. I stand up, closing the dishwasher and pushing the on button.

“Wow, that had to have been record speed.” I say making sure the light turns on for the wash cycle. There is no response. I move to turn around but a hand clasps over my mouth. This is not Nico. Fear jolts through my body and I try to pull away.

“Stop. If you do what I say, you and your daughter won’t be harmed.” It’s a man. A voice I don’t recognize. My heart lurches into my throat. I stiffen. “I am going to release you now. The last thing you want to do is scream. We wouldn’t want your little daughter upstairs to wake up, Mrs. Hischier.”

I can sense he has been watching us. He knows Lucie is asleep. He knows where her room is. He knows who I am. Who Nico is. It’s all panic inducing. The baby kicks against my abdomen as he releases me.

“Go to the table.” He presses something cold to the back of my neck. I have never felt a gun against my skin before, but it sure feels like one. I purse my lips together and slowly move to the dining area. I glance around, looking for a weapon, cursing earlier me that cleaned up the kitchen. The knives are across the kitchen. The vase is too far away to grab. And the very real possibility of a gun being on my neck stops any other thoughts of fighting.

“What do you want?” I ask, surprise at how still my voice is.

“No questions.” He presses the cool metal even deeper into my skin. The more he talks, the younger he sounds. He rips out one of the dinning room chairs and harshly shoves me down onto it. My stomach bottoms out. The baby kicks harder and I push a hand over her. “You’re lucky you’re pregnant. Otherwise you’d be dead.” My mouth crumbles as he touches my hair. I pull harshly away. “I’m going to tie you up. You’re going to be quiet. I’ll grab what I want and leave. You scream, I take your daughter with me.”

“Please. Let me go to her room. We’ll stay there together. You can take whatever you want. Please. Just… don’t hurt her.” I am sobbing now, thinking of this man upstairs alone with my daughter sleeping. I feel helpless, incapable of protecting her from the greatest danger.

“Your daughter’s safety depends on your cooperation and yours only. Keep your mouth shut and Nico won’t see your dead bodies when he gets home.”

The way he talks about Nico drips with disdain. A gloved hand comes around, grabbing my wrist and forcing it behind my back. I try to fight against him for the other one, but he yanks down on my shoulder which causes a sharp pain through my shoulder blade. No other words are shared as he duct tapes my feet together. Tape gets slapped over my mouth too. Tears immediately trace over the grey strip.

His retreating footsteps can be heard going up the stairs. I’m stuck. I can’t move the chair. If I tip over, I’ll fall onto the baby. I dig my finger nails into my palm, more tear tracks falling down my cheeks. I listen intently for Lucie. She will scream if he goes in there. I know she will. But no sounds come from upstairs. Nothing except the muted foot steps that I’ll never forget the sound of.

His boots hit the hardwood again. My whole body tenses as I feel him approach from behind. I grit my teeth, trying not to show any fear outwardly. Wanting to swing at him with everything in me and rip his fucking eyes out for invading our home.

“One last thing.” He sneers into my ear, reaching for the wedding bands on my left ring finger. I make a fist, trying to keep them on. “Release or I’ll cut your finger off.” He forces my fingers apart, tugging the rings harshly off. As he is pulling back, I’m able to get my finger nails on him. I press hard then drag, drawing blood. “Bitch!” He grabs the back of my head and throws me to the ground. I land hard on my side. I cringe, feeling the pain shoot through my collarbone. He steps towards me. I turn, looking him dead in his masked face. He stands over me. “All you rich bitches are the same. Ungrateful sluts.” He leans down, grabbing my face, pressing his fingers in. “Should untie you and teach you a lesson.”

“Dude! Lights are coming down the street! Let’s go!” Someone else yells into the house.

“Guess I’ll have to come back instead. Maybe on your husband’s next road trip.” He releases my face, stepping over me towards the front door. The voices disappear and the house is quiet again after a click of the front door. His final words hang violently in the air.

I close my eyes, heavy tears running down from my eyes. I pant heavily, struggling to stretch my feet to loosen the tape. I don’t want Nico to find me like this. Every movement makes my chest and shoulder shoot with pain. It isn’t long before the pain is unbearable. I fight back the nausea from it. With the duct tape still on my mouth, I’ll choke If I puke.

“Nico.” I sob against the stickiness over my mouth. Panic is bubbling up, tightening my throat. I stop fighting, eventually growing still, trying to minimize the damage to myself and the baby by becoming calm.

I focus on my breathing. I go to the happiest memories I can think of with Nico. I imagine I’m in bed with him in the morning. He is holding me close, placing soft kisses along my face, waking me up from a light sleep. I hear soft baby giggles coming from Lucie as he whispers for her to give me kisses too. It works. The sound of the garage door opening breaks through my safe place. Then the door opens. Nico tosses his keys on the counter. He walks beyond it, shrugging his jacket off.

His gasp rocks my body when he sees me.

“Oh my god, Lex!” He exclaims, his Nike’s slapping the wood floor as he rushes to me. His hands grab my tired hands. I yelp. He stops, then grabs the tape. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh my god, baby what happened?!” His brown eyes are wild, mouth dropped open in shock, breathing rapid. “Are you okay?” He reaches down for the baby, then goes back to my hands.

“Don’t pull my hands. I think my collar bone is broken. He gently works my hands apart. Then goes into the kitchen to grab some scissors. When he has me untied, he works me onto my back.

“Go grab Lucie.” I say.

“Baby, what happened!”

“Go. Grab. Lucie!” I scream back at him. “Make sure she is okay.” Nico backs up, then runs up the stairs, two at a time, barreling into her room.

“It’s daddy, baby. It’s okay. Just daddy. Let’s go help mommy.” He comes back into view, holding her close to him. His eyes meet mine and his face distorts in pain. He brings Lucie to the couch, then comes back to me.

“Call the police. Someone broke in, tied me up, and took who knows what. All I know for sure is they took my wedding rings.” I hold my hand up, Nico looks at the vacant space. A darkness I’ve never seen before crosses over his features. “Can you help me sit up?” I give him my good arm, then sit up with his help. I run my hand over the baby, anxious to feel her move. Nico watches as he pulls his phone out.

“Hi, I need to report a break in… and um, they hurt my wife.” He is stuttering, barely able to form English words.

The police come. EMTs too. They want me to go to the hospital for x-rays and and an ultrasound for the baby. Nico scours through the video systems we have, including the baby monitor. No one entered Lucie’s room after I did, which is a relief. It also makes it difficult to give a description of the suspect because they cut the wires leading to our security system. The police believe with the quickness of the break in and the retelling of my story that they had been casing the house. They waited for me to put Lucie to sleep. For Nico to be gone. For me to be at my most vulnerable.

Nico’s fingers gripped mine so tight when the police officer said that, I had to make him let go.

The x-ray confirm my collarbone is broken. They put me in a sling and schedule me for a follow up appointment next week. I can’t take pain killers; they tell me to monitor my Advil intake because of the baby.

It is hours before we return home. Nico’s car pulls up to the house, but it looks different. Dangerous and dark in the early morning hours.

“We are moving.” Nico says as he walks behind me in the garage with Lucie in his arms. “You are not staying here without me. Every time I am gone, you are leaving too.”

“Nico.” I sigh.

“No Lex. He told you he would be back. I’m not willing to take that chance. Do not argue with me on this.” He shuts the door behind him. “I already sent a text to Steve in hockey ops. He’s grabbing us a place in Hoboken while we search for a new house. We will move into Timo and Emma’s gated community.”

“But this is our home.” I start to cry. He brings Lucie to the couch, then engulfs me into his chest, careful of my sling. He presses kisses along my head, then tilts my face so he can kiss my lips. “This is where we said we would bring all our babies home from the hospital. Where they would take their first steps. And grow up. And be in a safe place. They took that from us tonight!”

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Holding me isn’t going to make any of this better, but he tries as hard as he can.

- - -

Nico watches Lexi and Lucie sleep next to him later that night. Lexi is propped up on pillows, the elbow of her broken collar bone supported by them too. To Nico, she looks fragile, with a sling and a growing belly. He reaches out for her bump, then skims that same hand along Lucie’s head where she sleeps cuddled into her baby sister.

He’s tried to fall asleep numerous times already, but he can’t.

He is fiercely angry.

Angry that someone robbed his house. Irate that some piece of shit hurt his wife. Poisoned by the visual of his pregnant wife tied up and in pain. Terror still fills his veins on what he imagined he would see of their daughter as he ran up the stairs.

All these images and emotions run through his mind. He can’t let it go. The police officers had been gentle yet realistic that they may never find the people who did this.

Fine, then Nico would. If they can’t do their job, he’ll hire someone better. The best money can buy. He’d bring investigators from Switzerland. He didn’t care. He was going to fucking find them.

None of the cameras in the neighborhood caught them. Yet, they were able to pull DNA from under Lexi’s nails of whoever tied her up. That was enough for him. Nico wants five minutes in a room with him to do permanent damage. He understands now how people can be capable of murder.

Him and Lex should have never picked this house. They had other options that provided a security presence, but they thought they were safe. Well, now he knew better. He should have been a better father and husband by forcing the gated community house.

Lexi stirs again her pillows, letting out a soft groan. Nico reaches out for her face, brushing her cheek lightly with his thumb.

“I need something.” She gulps down a tentative sip of water. “Can I take Advil yet?” Nico looks at the time on his watch sitting on the bedside table.

“Yeah, sweets. I’ll be right back.” He gently leaves the bed, careful not to rustle Lexi or Lucie. Their daughter immediately stretches her little feet out to take over his side of the bed. Normally he hates her feet against his back because she kicks him throughout the night. Tonight, it’s everything to him.

Nico comes back to Lexi with two Advil. She sits up to take it with Nico’s help. He rubs her back, anger intensifying at every flicker of pain on her body.

“Baby, I am going to find who did this.” He whispers to his wife. “They’re going to pay for this.”

“Neeks…” Lexi murmurs back, reaching for his face with her good hand. She strokes his skin, eyes wary with worry. Nico looks back at her, gaze hard, until he loses it completely. He drops his gaze to her belly when he feels the tears.

“I almost lost my whole world tonight.” Lexi sniffs because she is crying too. “How would I live without you, baby?” Lexi shakes her head, not sure what to say to her husband.

Gradually, with Lexi’s guidance, Nico lays his head into her lap. His nose presses into their growing baby while Lucie’s hand twitches against his hair. Lexi and Nico join hands on her bump.

The room is silent. The heavy thoughts of their night hanging over them.

Lexi finally gets Nico to sleep by gently stroking his hand, continuously murmuring to him that she’s still here.

#What my world spins around au #Lexi X Nico Hischier #Nico Hischer Fan Fiction #hockey writing #NHL Fan Fiction #hockey fan fiction

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

Hot or Cold

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: You work in a coffee shop, and when you are trapped in the fridge during a robbery, you can only hope that your boyfriend Deacon will find you.

Warnings: armed robbery, violence against reader, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“How’s the handsome boyfriend?” your coworker asks as you wipe down the front counter. “Still dreamy and treating you right?”

You chuckle at the thought of Deacon not being dreamy or treating you right, an impossibility. “Yes, he is.”

The bell over the door of the coffee shop rings, and you abandon the conversation about Deacon to do your job.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask… does Deacon have any single cop friends?”

Reading the name on the latte you just prepared, you shake your head. If you were in her place, and she had a boyfriend like Deacon, you’d want to know where to find one.

“Thanks,” the man says as he takes the cup.

“Have a nice day!” You turn toward your coworker to answer, “Honestly, I don’t know. Street’s still in his ‘will-they-won’t-they’ thing with Chris, Tan is, well he’s Tan… the new guy might be single.”

“I don’t know who any of those people are.”

“You shouldn’t. I can check for you though; if I’m right, you’d be cute together.”

“Is he as easy on the eyes as Deacon?”

“Nope,” you answer with a smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Man, I would kill for an espresso after that,” Rocker groans.

Luca waves his hands in a ‘stop talking’ motion before Deacon hears any reference to coffee. Luca loves you, but Deacon has difficulty stopping once you’re mentioned.

“Too bad you don’t have time,” Deacon answers instead. “We got another call. Up, buddy.”

Rocker rolls his eyes before standing.

“What now?”

“Another bank robbery. You should’ve gotten a coffee when you had the chance; it’s going to be a long day,” Hondo answers.

Deacon nods at the idea of coffee, a picture of you making him feel a little more awake.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is going on today?” someone asks, sitting back after a mad rush.

“Are you referring to the caffeine addiction of Los Angeles or the continuous sirens? Because I have no answer for either,” you answer, leaning on the counter.

“All these sirens and no single cops or firefighters to accept my number,” another voice sighs, joining your small huddle.

“Why don’t you guys head out early? I can close up, I know it’s been a long day,” you offer.

“Are you serious?”

“Sure. You can just cover for me when I don’t want the early shift next weekend.”

They weigh their options before you get a group hug and overlapping expressions of gratitude.

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” you mutter, shoving them toward the small locker room-like area at the back.

“You’re the best!”

“I know.”

As the door closes, their voices fading into the alley, you take a deep breath. You feel like you’ve been on the move all day, with people in and out without a break. Your phone shows no messages or calls from Deacon, but you hope to see him tonight.

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, pushing off the counter as you prepare to close.

You lay your phone on the counter and turn on some quiet music, focusing on getting finished and home to Deacon’s house as soon as possible. The counters are cleaned, and the dirty dishes are loaded into the industrial-sized dishwasher, so you're nearly done. As you begin sweeping the floor, someone opens the door.

“Sorry, we’re closing,” you say, moving toward the door to lock it. “The Starbucks down the street is open all night.”

“They have better security,” the man replies, keeping his foot pressed against the door so you can’t close it.

You drop the broom and step back, reaching for your cell phone on the counter to call for help. The man barges in, locking the door behind him as he points a gun at you.

“Don’t move,” he demands.

Deacon is in your favorites list, so it would only take two taps on the screen to call him. You raise your hands before stepping toward the counter. You don’t get to your phone before the man hits the back of your head, knocking you into a nearby table. Holding your ribs, you try to stand but kick a chair on accident and fall to the floor.

“Are you going to keep being a problem or can you sit there and be quiet?” the man asks with his gun at his side.

“I’ll be quiet,” you answer lowly.

He cocks his head, looking around. Stepping back, he slides your phone behind the counter so you can’t reach it easily.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he says, pushing you back on the floor.

“No,” you mumble, trying to fight him off of you.

“And you said you wouldn’t be trouble,” he almost growls, bringing the butt of his gun and the hard side of his hand down on your temple.

The impact disorients you; all you can do is grab his hand as he hauls you toward the walk-in fridge. When he pushes you inside and winks before closing the door, the severity of the situation finally reaches you.

“Don’t do this! Take whatever you want but let me out,” you scream, banging on the large metal door.

Your head pounds with each movement, and when you graze your hairline with your fingers, you hiss when you reach the broken skin. Stepping further into the fridge, you shiver under the vent and sink to the floor, fighting dizziness and nausea as your head aches. With no way to call for help, you should try to stay warm, but the pain in your head and fear that no one will find you until morning influence you to close your eyes.

Outside the fridge, the thief sings along to the song playing from your phone as he empties the cash register into his small bag. Nodding at his earnings, he steps toward the door before taking the last muffin out of the display case.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon glances down at his watch. You have a habit of offering to close after long days, but even if you stayed, you should be getting home about now. Deacon smiles at the thought of you doing what you usually do: passing your driveway to pull into his own. You’ve been neighbors almost as long as you’ve been dating, though his house seems to be a landing place for both of you.

“20-David to command,” Hondo radios from inside the bank. “We’re Code 4.”

Deacon sighs, lowering his weapon and standing from his hidden position. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see no notifications from you. Maybe you had a day like he did.

Rushing home to hold you after a long day, Deacon slows beside your driveway, nodding when he sees it empty. But, when he sees your car isn’t in his driveway either, his brows furrow as he wavers between surprise and concern.

Shifting his car into park, he presses your contact, waiting until he gets your voicemail. He texts you to call him ASAP, and after a minute with no acknowledgment, he calls you again. Taking a deep breath in his attempt to stay calm, he dials the number for the coffee shop and prays to hear your voice. The line beeps before your recorded voice greets him.

“Answer,” Deacon begs as the dial tone begins again. “Hey, Luca, I need your help with something. You got a minute?”

“Yeah, of course, anything for you, man,” Luca replies.

Deacon says your name before running a hand across his mouth. “She’s not home and she’s not answering her cell phone or the coffee shop line.”

“Anywhere else she’d be?” Luca asks, shuffling on the other side of the line.

“Not this late. I’m going to drive over to the coffee shop,” Deacon adds.

“We’ll meet you there. Street and I are only a couple blocks away. We’ll find her, Deac.”

Deacon thanks him as he backs out of his driveway. The coffee shop is a ten-minute drive that feels like an eternity.

✯✯✯✯✯

Street and Luca are coming out of the alley when Deacon rushes onto the sidewalk.

“Hey,” Street greets. “The lights were off when we got here. Back door is locked, and her car is still here.”

“Did you try the door?” Deacon asks.

“Not this one; we just got here,” Luca replies.

“Thank you for coming so late.”

“Of course. We’re here for you and her, Deacon.”

Deacon nods, taking a deep breath as he pushes the door open. He glances at Luca, who tilts his head in concern. Luca and Street enter behind Deacon, their hands at their sides and ready to pull their weapons if needed. There’s quiet music playing from somewhere in the building, and Street nods to Luca as he breaks off to find the source.

“Deacon,” Street calls quietly. He stands from behind the counter and holds up your phone.

Deacon swallows harshly, looking toward the back.

“Let’s clear the building and we’ll go from there,” Deacon instructs quietly.

Street and Luca nod, moving slowly and silently until they’re sure the building is empty. Deacon turns on a light in the back, frowning when he sees your bag in its regular storage spot.

“The cash register is empty,” Luca calls, his voice raised after concluding there is no immediate threat.

✯✯✯✯✯

You hear a voice outside and blink rapidly, forcing yourself to focus. With your arms wrapped tightly around you, your shivers are growing in strength as you grow weak and disoriented.

“Where- go- night?” someone asks, their voice breaking as you strain to listen through the thick metal of the fridge.

The voice sounds familiar, and you summon what little strength you have left to bang on the door. It’s quiet, and as your hand slides down the cold metal, your blinks slow.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Wait,” Deacon demands, raising a hand to quiet Luca and Street. “Did you hear that? Something made a knocking noise.”

He walks toward the fridge, the only place they didn’t check during their initial sweep. Luca nods, standing behind Deacon as Street unlocks and opens the door. Deacon sees you slumped on the floor and rushes in.

“Dea- David?” you mumble, your eyes lidded as you look up at him.

“Hey, yeah, I’m here. I got you, sweetheart,” he soothes, laying his hands on your shoulders.

“I’ll call it in,” Street says before reporting the robbery and requesting an ambulance.

“We need to get you out of here,” Deacon says quietly, pulling you against his chest.

He stands slowly, cradling your shivering form to his chest. Once Luca closes the fridge, Deacon sits on the floor, taking his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders. He moves you gently to make sure all of your clothes are dry. Sliding his fingers onto your pulse point, he calculates your heart rate with a frown.

“Hypothermia?” Luca asks quietly, passing Deacon a nearby jacket.

Deacon nods, laying it over your hips as he lets you lean against him.

“Ambulance is here, Deac,” Street alerts. “Is she okay?”

“She has to be,” Deacon and Luca answer together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon and Luca follow the ambulance in Deacon’s car while Street returns home, telling the team what happened. They sit together in the waiting room, sharing their concern and sympathies without speaking.

A nurse exits and says your name, smiling as Deacon and Luca rush to her side.

“The doctor wants to talk to you. Relatives?” she asks.

“He is,” Luca answers. “I’m just a friend.”

“Then I’m going to ask you to wait here.”

“No problem. We’re here for you, Deac.”

Deacon nods, whispering, “Thank you,” as he follows the nurse into the hospital.

“You found her in plenty of time, sir,” the doctor says with a kind smile. “She’s suffering from hypothermia and some surface-level injuries. Despite that nasty bump on her head, we don’t see any indications of a concussion.”

“Thanks, doc. How bad is the hypothermia?” Deacon asks.

“We caught it very early. She’s warming up; temperature was right around 94, so it isn't too severe.”

“Can I see her?”

“Of course. Let me know if you have any other questions, and I’ll be back by soon.”

Deacon steps into your room quietly, looking at you with a sad smile. Dressed in the thin hospital gown with heated blankets and heat packs on your chest and neck.

“’S not as warm as you,” you mumble with your eyes closed.

Deacon smiles, pulling a chair up beside your bed. “Working better though,” he says quietly.

You turn your head toward him and smile as you open your eyes. “Thanks for finding me. It wouldn’t be as much fun to get in trouble without you around to save me.”

“Well no more trouble for a while, okay? Because that was terrifying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Robbery is working on catching the guy.”

“He stole my muffin.”

Deacon chuckles before offering, “I’ll make you a whole batch to make up.”

“You should’ve been a baker, not a cop.”

“I’m not sure I’m the house-husband type.”

“Trophy husband for sure,” you correct with a nod. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get discharged, Deacon takes you back to his house, and you notice that someone has moved your car back to your driveway. After getting you comfortable on the couch, Deacon begins rushing back and forth, doing everything the doctor recommended and then some.

“Deac,” you call when he rushes by again.

He stops and backpedals into the living room. “Do you need something?”

“Yes. I need you to sit with me. You’ve done more than enough, and I just need your company right now.”

Deacon smiles and whispers an apology as he sits beside you, holding you close. You cuddle into his side, focusing on your favorite movie. When you kick the blankets off, barely moving as you struggle, Deacon stops himself from acting again.

“Need help?” he asks, running a hand down your spine.

You nod slowly against his chest, and he reaches across you to remove the blanket.

“Want to you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

Deacon looks at his watch, furrowing his brows when he notices it’s been nearly twelve hours since you ate at the hospital, and who knows how long before that.

“You really need to eat something,” he urges kindly.

Your weight increases on him as you shake your head and close your eyes. When your forehead hits Deacon’s arm, he’s surprised to feel how warm you are. He retrieves a thermometer from the small care kit he assembled in his concern-filled frenzy.

“You have a fever,” Deacon tells you. “It’s pretty high, so I’m going to call the doctor.”

“Stay here,” you mumble, grasping at Deacon’s shirt.

He wraps his arm around you, tugging you closer as he raises his phone to his ear.

“Hello, this is Deacon Kay… Yes, ma’am… She has a fever of 103.2, she’s not wanting to eat, and she’s very weak... I will. Thank you.”

“What’d they say?” you ask as he sets his phone down.

“They think it’s probably just the stress of what you went through, or maybe an upper respiratory infection from the cold. I’m supposed to keep you hydrated, medicated, and happy, and call if anything changes.”

You nod, nuzzling closer to him as he chuckles. It doesn’t take much coaxing from him to convince you to take some medicine, drink lots of water, and take a few bites of your favorite food, especially when he promises to hold your hand through it all.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up the following morning, wrapped in Deacon’s arms, the fever is lower but not gone.

“More water,” Deacon demands.

“You’re bossy.”

“Trophy boyfriends are allowed to be.”

“Trophy husband,” you correct.

“Are you proposing?” he teases.

You take a minute to consider before asking, “Would you say yes?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Then you just wait until I feel better, Kay.”

He smiles, pulling a lightweight blanket over you as your fever finally breaks.

“You’re still worried,” you accuse, sitting up to look at him.

“Of course, I am. I came home and you weren’t here, and then weren’t answering your phone. It’s only because of Luca and Street that I was able to find you without panicking.”

“Then we should have them over for dinner to thank them. Although, I know you would’ve found me without them.”

“I’ll always find you,” he promises.

“Even when I can’t decide whether to be hot or cold?”

“I love you either way,” Deacon replies, matching your tone as he kisses your forehead.

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #deacon kay fluff #swat cbs #requests

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jawritter · 1 year

Text

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count: 1782

Prompt: Roommate AU

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: Angst, Some bickering

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

Y/N’s POV:

“You sure about this Sam, it is Christmas after all, what if your brother doesn’t want your roommate tagging along all weekend with you guys?” Y/N questioned for what was probably the third time that day, but the thought of Sam’s older brother coming to stay the weekend with the pair of them had her feeling extremely anxious, and a whole lot like the third wheel of the whole situation.

“Yes Y/N, I’m sure, I promise, everything will be fine. Dean doesn't mind. He knows you live here; he’s not going to expect you to leave your own house, that you pay half the rent on, just because he’s coming to stay for the weekend. It’s really not a problem.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line as she continued to load the dishwasher in front of her. She didn’t quite believe Sam; he had a tendency to downplay things. He was also a Dean Winchester apologist; she knew that for a fact. Not that she’d ever laid eyes on Dean, save an old picture that Sam had kept in his room. Still, some of the stories these two shared growing up! She knew they’d had a complicated childhood, but Dean Winchester was much like his father John in a lot of ways, and John, from what she’d remembered, was not a good person. Add the fact that Dean was a self-proclaimed ‘ladies’ man’, and she just was not looking forward to this weekend at all.

Not that she was so deluded to think that Dean would actually hit on someone like her. She wasn’t exactly a ten. Her thighs seemed to touch together, no matter how much she exercised, and she didn’t have a super flat stomach. She wasn’t dumb enough to think that Dean would even look her way. She’d seen the pictures of Cassie, Lisa, some wanna be Barbie knockoff she couldn’t remember the name of, and a few others of his conquest via Sam’s sleuthing on Facebook and Twitter, Lisa being the latest. She looked nothing like those beautiful women. Dean wouldn’t even look her way. Still, she doubted the handsome Winchester wanted a female version of Java the Hut hanging around all weekend while he came to visit his baby brother, especially considering it was Christmas.

“Trust me Y/N, Dean’s an alright guy. Once you get to know him, you’ll love him. Now, I’ve got to go to work,” Sam announced, suddenly standing from the table and closing his laptop before stuffing it in his bag. “Just try not to stress about it too much, okay Y/N/N? It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

“Fine,” she agreed reluctantly as she pressed the start button on the dishwasher.

She remained unconvinced, no matter how much Sam assured her that everything would be fine. There would always be this internal battle that the man would be repulsed by her the moment he saw her, like she felt that most men where, save Sam, he’d been her best friend for years now. He didn’t care what she looked like, or that she came from a poorer family. They connected immediately, and quickly became best friends. So, when she lost her apartment due to covid layoffs, Sam had gladly offered her a room in his house. She’d been living there for almost two years now and had never seen his family aside from pictures. She just assumed other than Dean, he didn’t get along with any of them, or they were all dead, she just never asked. It wasn’t any of her business.

Sam had gone back to school later in life to finish his law degree, before she’d met him, and was now working his first year in his own law firm. He never really wanted to talk much about his life before this, or why he’d left Stanford, and what he’d done all those years in between, or how he’d ended up in Detroit for that matter. All he’d ever say when she’d asked what he’d done in his time, life really, off of school, he just said the story wasn’t all that interesting, and blew her off. She knew Dean played a role in it, because he talked about his big brother all the time, and even talked about some of the adventures they’d had on the road, people they’d met, places they’d stayed in, sights they’d seen, but he never would give her more information than that; never would tell her why they were on a road trip together, or what happened in between to ultimately separate them.

Though, she was pretty sure his ex-girlfriend, Eileen, might have had something to do with it. He’d said that ultimately, ‘they had different goals in life,’ and because of that, it just didn’t work out.

The only thing she knew about the oncoming house guest, aside from all the above, was that he was a private detective, and worked closely with law enforcement after doing two years as a working FBI agent. She never told Sam, but she had tried to look him up once, and all she found was an obituary, claiming him to be dead. For some reason, she thought that the FBI part of Dean’s story wasn’t exactly true, but considering his line of work, she thought that it must be a ‘need to know’ kinda thing,’ and she didn’t ask more than that. She had a hard enough time in her current life, she didn’t need to have to go into witness protection program and start all over again.

“Oh, and Y/N, I’m probably gonna be late this evening, the meeting with this client is probably gonna be long, so Dean’s gonna beat me here. Just let him in, he knows how to make himself at home,” Sam called over his shoulder, closing the front door tightly behind him before she had the chance to argue with him about it.

Y/N’s nostrils flared as she glared at the door. He’d known all morning that she’d be alone here when Dean got here, yet he waited until he was leaving to drop that little tidbit of information on her!

She picked up her phone, opening her text app, and sent him a lovely little message about how payback was going to be a bitch, and she wasn’t going to be his brother’s keeper, nor his entertainment, or babysitter for that matter, so he can bring his ass home and do a goddamn zoom meeting for the rest of the week.

It didn’t help the situation at hand any, but it made her momentarily feel better. That is, until she looked around the room at the state of the messy house in front of her.

Running one hand down her face, she assessed the state of things, before deciding it was more important that the man show up to a presentable house, rather than taking the time to go fix herself up for nothing, because messy bun and PJ’s, or full face of makeup and fixed hair with nice clothes, it really didn’t matter, all that effort would have been for naught anyway, it wasn’t like he’d even look twice at her.

Y/N took a deep breath, yelled for Alexa to turn on Metallica on Pandora, and made her way into the kitchen to go and retrieve the broom. There was no putting off the inevitable, but at least cleaning will distract her for a while.

Dean’s POV:

“For fucks sakes Sammy!” Dean barked into the phone he had jammed between his right shoulder and ear as he hurried around his bedroom, shoving clothing into a duffle bag that was once used for hunting, but now he just kept it around for weeks he decided to go see his baby brother, still, as his large hand gripped the faded green material of the strap, the memory was not lost on him. Not at all. “You can’t even take off for one day before your vacation is supposed to start! It’s not like I get a free weekend all the damn time. I’m driving all the way up there to see you, not spend time with your roommate.”

“You will only beat me there by a few hours Dean, she doesn’t bite or anything,” Sam argued, the eye rolled damn near audible in his voice, and Dean growled into the phone with all the righteous indignation he could muster, mostly because he knew the next words that were about to come out of Sam’s mouth. “Besides, it’s not like you haven’t had to spend an hour with a strange girl you didn’t—”

“I’ve told you, that’s not me anymore Sam! I’m damn near 44 years old! I’m old, cranky, probably got a little PTSD, and a fucking control freak. That poor girl doesn’t want to spend her afternoon looking at me of all people!”

“I’ll see you when I get home Dean,” Sam insisted, “and try not to knock up my best friend before I get home. She’s hot, but I have faith you can keep it in your pants for an hour.”

“Fuck you— wait a minute, what do you mean she’s hot?” Dean questioned and Sam laughed as he hung up the phone.

Dean grumbled as he tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and turned to examine his room for the last time to make sure he had all he needed before whistling at Miracle to follow him.

Sam said she was hot, but honestly, he wouldn't let his dick get in the way of good sense. He’s not the man he used to be, he had scars, big ones, one that poor girl didn’t need to see. Besides, if Sam thought she was hot he wasn’t gonna step in on his girl. Sammy deserved a normal, happy life, and if this girl could do that for him, he was going to behave himself, no matter how hot she was.

“She better-not-be allergic to dogs,” Dean said to Miracle as he approached his Baby sitting in the parking garage as shiny and pretty as the day she’d been driven off of the lot. The only woman that hadn’t done him wrong, and he’d do well to remember it. “‘Cause if she is, I'll pick you over my brother’s roommate. She can just get a fucking hotel or something.”

Miracle sat and stared, tongue hanging out, and completely unenthused.

Dean sighed as he opened the passenger door for his four-legged friend to jump in, “yeah, figured you’d care about as much,” he murmured as he closed the door. “Least you care more than Sam apparently does. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to see me at all.”

Pt. 2 HERE!!!

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darlingsfandom · 8 months

Note

hii i love ur fics, can i request a stalker neil from watching the detectives!!

Hi friend !! Thank you🥺🥺 everyone's making me soft today !

"I promise mom! I'm fine!" You spoke into the telephone as you finished loading your dishwasher.

"I know I know you're worried. It's been two months though! My neighbor is very nice. He's ... yes I said HE! Mom stop I'm twenty five! It's not like I haven't seen a boy before!" You rolled your eyes at her over the phone before shutting off the main light to your kitchen. "As I was saying, he's very nice! He's helped me bring my groceries when I've gotten home, helped me bring in the trash cans. He even helped me when I moved in! Really nice guy. His name? His name is Neil. He owns the video store in town. Porn? Mom! I'm not going to ask him if he rents out porn. That's not my place." You were now in your laundry room switching the laundry over when something caught your eye. A pair of your rose printed panties were missing along with your white cotton ones covered in little hearts. You frowned your eyebrows in thought as you listened to your mom go on and on about whatever church function was happening now.

"Mom, I love you but it's getting late and you know I enjoy my rest. Uh huh yes mom I'll call you again soon, love you too! Bye." You hung your phone up back in the kitchen and went to the fridge to grab a drink but the feeling you had earlier came back. You shook it off before slamming the fridge shut and making your way into your bedroom. You cracked open the window to let the cool breeze in while you stood in front it and stripped down to just your panties. Little to your knowledge Neil was watching you. He had been outside your house the whole time you were on the phone with your mother. It wasn't the first time he watched you. Neil had been watching you since the day you moved in next door to him. You were wearing some gym shorts and an old music shirt with your hair up carrying three boxes at once! He was in love already and he knew you'd be his one day.

Neil watched from the bush outside your bedroom window. You were bent over looking for something under your bed. Your underwear were lining your pussy perfectly and Neil could've cum right there! He had your little heart panties balled up in his fist as he watched you wiggle your ass. It was like his own personal peep show. Even though this wasn't his first time watching you, he still got excited every time. He's watched you sleep, shower, get ready, undress and everything else in between. He's studied you and luckily for him you were a creature of habit.

You pulled the remote for your tv out from under the bed and stood up before dusting yourself off making your tits jiggle a little and groan leave Neil's lips. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion when he did so but once again you brushed it off. Once you had your tv and snuggled up the blankets it wasn't long before you were sleeping and Neil made his move. He quietly opened your window more and let himself in. He stood by the edge of your bed and watched as your chest rose and fell, the way your lips were slightly parted, you were his! You just didn't know it.

When you woke up the next morning, your eyes felt heavy and you felt hot. You got up slowly and looked down to see your panties were gone! "What the fuck??" You yelled out loud as you stood up naked. "What kind of sick pervert!!" You know you had panties when you fell asleep. As you moved you felt a different sensation on your legs. You used your finger to wipe it off. "ewww!!" You ran into the bathroom to clean yourself up when someone decided now was a good time to knock. You grabbed your robe and rushed to the door.

"What the fuck do you want Neil ?" You answered the door as he stood there with a smile on his face.

"It's Saturday morning! We have breakfast every Saturday morning for the last two months!"

You slumped your shoulders and ran your hand over your face while letting him in. He stepped inside and took off his coat. Something seemed different about Neil today but you couldn't place it.

"Sorry, it's been a weird morning already." You got the coffee ready as Neil leaned against the counter top.

"Is that so? What's going on ?" He crossed his arms as you bent over to grab the creamer out of the fridge. A pathetic laugh left your lips as you turned to face him.

"First , we'll okay it started last night when I was on the phone with my mom. I was swapping laundry and found that two pairs of my panties are missing, then I'm looking under my bed for my remote and I heard this noise like someone got hurt outside. I thought it was Mr.Smith having his good ol walk home from the bar. But then the weird stuff happened when I woke up naked! My panties were gone again and as I get up I feel sticky! It's like some pervert came in my room and stole my panties and then came on my thighs while I sleeping! What kind of gross pervert steals a woman's panties and covers her in cum? While she's sleeping!" You threw your hands up before placing them on your hips and shook your head. The feeling of being watched hit you again.

Neil stood there with a grin on his face before he lunged at you taking you by surprise. You stood frozen as he searched in your eyes.

"Don't be scared pretty girl! I'd never hurt you! You're my girl! My beautiful girl! Who really should know better than to keep her window open at night! Some nasty pervert could've came in and made a mess of you ... oh wait! " his lips turned into a wicked smile before shoving you into the hallway. "See! You're my girl and no one else's! That's why I had to take your panties, can't have you wearing these and those skirts so everyone can see your pretty pussy and trust me baby, it's pretty! Watched you play with it enough to know so." Neil cupped your face in his hands and kissed you hard. You tried to push him away but he gripped your wrists hard. "Don't push me away baby! I can give you everything you want!" He started kissing at the tears rolling down your face before kissing down your neck while shoving your robe to the ground.

Exposed! You felt exposed to Neil. You trusted Neil and he's your stalker! You slapped yourself in your head for being so stupid. All the memories of him being perfectly on time with things, how he knew what you had for dinner before you told him ... all the little details were flooding your brain as he bit the side of your neck. The pain took over and made you pull onto his hair. Neil's lips attached to your nipples hungrily sucking and bruising them as he kept eye contact with your tear stained eyes. Your hands pulled on his hair tighter making him bite your nipple before he kissed down your stomach until he bit down your left hip making sure to suck a bruise onto your flesh. Neil waisted no time in spreading your legs and admiring how pretty your pussy was. He spread your folds open and licked upwards into you with the flat of his tongue. You should be mad, you should be disgusted but you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel good.

Neil's tongue was working you over while he fumbled with his belt. Once he was done with his pants, he pulled out his cock and started fisting himself and you shouldn't be enjoying hearing the wet sounds of him jerking himself or the sound of him lapping your pussy and rubbing your clit with tip of his nose. You started bucking forward. You held his head still and found yourself fucking your self on his mouth which made Neil pump harder and moan into your pussy.

"Oh fuck! Neil! You're a fucking pervert! Such a nasty boy!" You cried out loudly while riding his face harder. Your orgasm was hitting you hard as you whined loudly. Your creamy orgasm washed over his face as your knees buckled causing you to surface him with your thighs but he didn't mind, he was drowning in your creamy little pussy.

"Fuck!" He breathed heavily as you pulled away and watched him jerk his cock as fast as he could. You got down on your knees next to him and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Neil's lips turned into the perfect O as he spurted into your mouth. He enjoyed watching you take his cum but to his surprise instead of swallowing, you grabbed his face and spit his own cum into his mouth.

"You're playing with fire Neil , I can be just as disgusting as you."

#neil lewis smut #neil lewis #watching the detectives #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy #neil lewis x reader #Neil Lewis x fem reader #emsblurbs

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proceduralpassion · 1 year

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Torments

(gif by me, excuse the terrible quality lol)

A/N: I wrote this the night of 10x11 and it's been sitting, collecting unedited cob webs ever since. I finally spruced it up and made it presentable, so here ya go! Kev deserves someone to hold him and tell it's all gonna be okay 🥺

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Wife!Reader

WC: ~1k

Warning(s): angsty af, discussions of dysfunctional familial relationships

The house was quiet when he walked in. There was light coming from upstairs but he leaned his back against the front door and stood in the darkness. The mute shadows that surrounded him mirrored the hollow feeling in his chest. There were unfinished emotions resting in his spirit and he sighed a heavy breath, wondering if he should unleash them from his depths or stuff them back down, much like he did with a lot of his torments.

It was already late when he left the precinct, so late that he knew that he missed dinner, but his mind was already set on stopping by his building to make sure there was an adequate unit for his father. He’d call and hire someone in the morning to clean it up and put some furniture in it, but he couldn’t bear to go to sleep tonight without verifying that his father would have somewhere safe to go, once he got out of the halfway house.

He’s not sure how long he stood there, with his head against the door, but it lifts upright when he hears footsteps descending the stairs.

“Kev?” Your voice eked out carefully.

“Yeah, it’s me, baby.”

He met you at the last step and you both wrapped your arms around each other tightly. You feel that his weight is heavier tonight and know that today wasn’t a good day. Instead of acknowledging it, you guide him into the kitchen, “I left your food in the microwave, let me heat it up.”

He follows you silently, his head still leaned on your shoulder as he walks behind you with his hands on your hips. You lean into his embrace as the timer counts down until the egg rolls and fried rice are ready. Still, no words are spoken. You say nothing as his arms wrap tighter around you.

This is how it went with the two of you. He was a proud man and it wasn’t always easy for him to spill his emotions out to you. You were dogged in your pursuit for the truth, in your mission to heal his afflictions the way he always did for you, without question. There was a silent compromise in the way that neither of you spoke. Time was a pact, the equalizer that told him that you wouldn’t push and that he wouldn’t suppress.

You two sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, ankles linking against each other under the table.

Always touching, the two of you.

He offered his plate to share, but you only took one bite out of an egg roll before shifting the dish back in front of him. Your ring shines against the glint of the light above and your eyes can’t help but jump to his. Like you did all the thousands of other times you saw that golden piece of metal surrounding his finger, you smile and your heart flutters. He catches the simper and his shoulders shake in a hushed chuckle.

“I’m sorry, that ring will always be the sexiest thing you will ever wear,” you always say.

“Even sexier than the chain?”

“Damn. Can’t forget about the chain.”

You two don’t actually say the words aloud like you usually do, but the back and forth is wordlessly exchanged through your eyes. A language that only two people in the universe will ever be fluent in.

When he finishes his plate, you go to grab it, but he swipes it away before you can and rises to head to the dishwasher. He loads the plate and fork and then detours to the fridge to grab something out of it.

He hands you your half-eaten dark chocolate bar and sits. You offer it, he leans over to only one bite out of it before pushing it back into your hand. And so, now you’re the one who eats quietly because you know that your husband is ready to talk, but still needs a moment to gather his thoughts.

You finish your chocolate, enjoying the crunch of almond in the last morsel and Kevin reaches for your hand.

“I got him a place to stay in the building.”

You nodded, not saying anything, allowing him the space to release whatever he's holding.

“I don’t know… I’m just still so… angry. I’m happy he’s out. He’s safe. But he had all this time to reach out. To make amends. And the best he can come up with for an excuse is his pride?”

His voice still creaked with emotion, much like before, when he let his dad have it at the precinct. He thinks about Jordan and Vinessa and even at his most frustrated, he couldn’t bear to think of not showing up for them whenever they needed. It may not have been fair to him, raising two kids when he was barely an adult himself, but he still couldn’t even fathom letting them down in any way. So how could the man that sired three children allow anything to hold him back from rushing back to them, from picking up the pieces of a long broken family?

Your second hand reaches around to wrap around his and you lean closer to him, allowing your foreheads to rest on each other’s.

“I feel like I can’t even be too mad at him. Because I don’t know what he went through. What he had to get through to survive all those years on the inside… Maybe he wouldn’t have made it if he was too weighed down by thoughts of us.”

You speak for the first time.

“You just hate that it was you and the kids that were weighing him down.”

With glassiness in his eyes, he nods.

You rise from your seat and rest in his lap, nestling his head against your chest, caressing the back of his neck. He heaves a deep breath and bundles closer into you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

You hold him tight as his shoulders shake, allowing him to find solace in your embrace. A safe haven so he can mourn for the time lost. And forgive for what wasn’t his fault.

As always, like and reblog if you enjoyed. Thanks for the love 💖

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @ginghampearlsnsweettea @jackburtonsays @justahopelessssromantic

#chicago pd #kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater x black reader #<- it's really for anyone but i always write with black!reader in my mind #kevin atwater x wife! reader

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savywrites · 1 year

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What about me (JJxsister)

JJ x sister!reader (14 or 15)

Summary: Reader is always helping JJ out whenever he needs it, but what happens when she needs help but he isn't there to return the favor.

Warnings: Verbal and physical Abuse, Angst

Requests are Open!!

Word count: 1111

Everybody eventually gets to that age when you have to start pulling your own weight around the house. For you and JJ that started a lot earlier than most other kids. From a very young age Luke expected a lot from you both, and if you didn't meet his standards he would show you by taking it out on you.

Recently you and JJ had both been pretty busy. He was always hanging out with the pogues and other random tourist girls, while you occasionally hung out with the pogues and mainly prioritized work and some school.

Chores have always been something you and JJ needed to keep up on because you always seemed to fall behind on them. So you two came up with the best solution you could, an evenly divided schedule. Whenever either of you were home you tried to get your chores done as quietly and as quickly as possible hoping to stay out of Luke's way.

You had just come home from school and knew you were on dish duty and needed to get those done. You knew that JJ was on laundry and needed to get a load started but that was his problem to figure out, not yours. That was until you received a text from him.

JJ: Hey I won't be home in time to do laundry. Can you start a load for me and I'll finish it?

Y/n: Yea no prob. Please be home soon.

So you went on and started the load, hoping he would get home soon to take over. Only he wasn't home soon. He didn’t even come home at all that night. Leaving you alone to finish up his chore and to also have to stay the night with your dad. This was not the only time something like this has happened. You found yourself doing more and more of his own chores than he did himself. This happened a lot more than you would've liked, but you just got through it. Until you needed help and he wasn't there willing to help you.

You were currently at work when your boss had asked you to stay a few extra hours to help out and also get paid more. Of course you said yes because you knew you needed the extra money and because it's not like you had anything better to do. So you texted JJ, but this time asking him for help.

Y/n: Hey J, can you help me out by taking the trash out and just running the dishwasher. It should be full and ready to run, I just need someone to hit the start button.

JJ: Umm. I'm currently out right now at the beach with the pogues. I'll try and stop by later to do it.

Y/n: ok just please help me out.

You had just finished up your extra shift and are on your way home. You were so tired after the day you had with all the crazy customers and just wanted to go to sleep. Only that was not what was waiting for you when you got home. You open the door and there's Luke standing right there waiting for you.

“Y/n your chores are not done!” He spoke to you in a stern voice. You couldn't believe it. You had asked JJ to help you out with them and he couldn't even do that.

“Oh I'm so sorry I can get those done right now.” You hoped he would accept that and let you walk away only he didn't. He grabbed your arm as hard as he could and pushed you down onto the floor. You had little strength in your from being as tired and strained as you were you couldn't fight back. He punched you in your nose and on your cheek before moving down and giving a few blows to your stomach. You were in so much pain and also felt a strong amount of betrayal. You couldn't believe that he had not helped you out when you needed it, but when he asked for help you always did it. Once Luke was satisfied and left you immediately got up and finished everything that had to get done, after you went into your room, packed a bag, and started making your way over to the chateau.

You made your way over to the entrance of the chateau and saw JJ sitting there with everyone else. You felt disgusted. You had to show up here with a bloodied nose and bruised cheek while he was here the entire time hanging out with his friends.

Kiara was the first one to notice you.

“Yo Y/n what happened? Are you alright?”

You just ignored her and walked inside to go drop your back off then head to the bathroom to clean up.

You heard the footsteps behind you. They belonged to JJ.

“Oh my God, Y/n what happened? Why are you all beat up?”

“Maybe because the things I asked for help with weren't done and then when I showed up at home I got beat up.”

“Oh shit I forgot” he ran his fingers through his hair already being regretful.

“Oh really? I didn't notice.” You replied sarcastically. You did not have time for this.

“No you do not get to pull that on me. It is not my fault you didn't and couldn't get your own chores done.” You stared at him with the deadliest glare you've ever given. If looks could kill he would drop dead right now.

“Excuse me?! Do you know how much I have helped you out recently with your chores while you're off with your friends doing nothing but drinking and smoking?” You were flabbergasted. No way was he getting away with this and blaming it as your own fault.

“I'm sorry I was working and got put on extra shifts so I could make more money. My bad. Next time let me just not work, then we won't have food or anything we need. Is that better for you?”

“No, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that. I promise from now on I'll be there and I'll help you out.”

“Good.”

“Yea ok I deserve that” he helped finish cleaning up your nose and cheek then gave you one big bear hug.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too, shorty.”

#jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj!sister #luke maybank #fluff #angst #savywrites

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