#☾ most of the time from the driver's seat

[lunarruled]

[kitkathatesu]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Johnny Sawyer x Fem!reader

𝐖𝐀��𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: ❗️SMUT❗️dub/non-con, (DO NOT READ THIS IF THAT IS A TRIGGER FOR YOU) ❕MDNI❕Use of degradation & praise, (mostly degradation) mentions of violence, alcohol use, kidnapping, canon!Johnny, implied cannibalism, biting, blood & knife play, forced thigh riding + oral (m receiving)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Stopping at a bar in a rural part of Texas proves to be more than a couple shots with a stranger when you find yourself fighting for your life in the front seat of a worn out pickup truck. But fortunately for you, he’s got a knack for the ones who fight back. And fortunately for him, he knows how to wine ‘em and dine ‘em. In more ways than one.

☽✞☾

The Texas air is humid and dry in your nose as it whips through the driver side and passenger window rustling your hair. It’s about 6:00 PM and the sun is starting to set in the distance, the sky painted with orange and yellow hues. You breathe in deeply and sigh, it feels like you’ve been driving for hours and truthfully you have. Your ass is numb, throat is dry, and your eyes are watering from the restless night you’d had right before tearing out of bed and onto the road. Tired is an understatement but you catch an old wooden sign on the side of the road a couple feet in front of you at the corner of your eye, “Newt, population 3,000.”

“Fuck yeah.” You perk up and tap your fingers against the steering wheel happily as you drive down a narrow blacktop road. A gas station to your left, grocery store to your right, and a couple houses in between. It’s pretty rundown. Everywhere you look there seems to be something withering away. And just as you ponder that that’s all there was to this archaic town you come upon this decent sized, surprisingly sturdy looking building with the words Drayton’s Texan Tavern printed above it.

“A bar?” You chew the skin on the inside of your cheek and sit idly. It’s a bit oddly placed, off putting, maybe even a little uncanny from the outside but nonetheless a spot to rest. A spot to let loose and relax like most. So you pull in, park, and hop out of the driver seat onto the pavement. The ache in your lower back starting to fade as you strut your way past different vehicles that are scattered about the parking lot. Many of them rusted and chipping away.

The familiar chime of a bell rings above your head as you push the door open. You’re met with smoke sitting stagnant and smoldering in the dim lighting. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes mixing with the musk of the multiple men and women standing around with drinks in hand chatting amongst themselves. You walk hastily up towards the bar, taking a stool beside a woman that’s obviously drunk slurring to someone stood beside her. You chuckle to yourself, glancing at the menu that’s now slapped down in front of you. Small and black with white lettering.

“What can I do ye for?” A voice echoes over the chatter booming around you. You’re greeted by an old man with a greasy black comb over who stands with a hand on his hip. Sweat glistening on his brow and a discolored handkerchief sluggishly patting it away.

“Ah, I’ll just have two shots of whiskey please.” He looks unamused as you offer him a soft smile. Grabbing the whiskey off of the shelf and pouring you two separate shots. Scoffing to himself as you take them straight to the head.

You see him nod to someone to his left and then walk from behind the bar towards a booth where three rowdy men are yelling at each other. “Hey! There’ll be none of that here boys. Either take it down a notch or take it outside.” He spat. You can’t make out much. But this isn’t anything new considering you’ve had your fair share of bar hopping, so you tune it out.

A black haired girl replaces the older man and you order two more shots. By the time the first two kick in your head is already fuzzy, body is warm and your thighs are sticking to the stool under you. You can’t help but notice a man in your peripherals, he’s not moving but his hands are in his pockets and he has a boot pressed against the wall behind him. A cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the cherry burning bright reflecting his dark features.

“Would’ya like anything else ma’am?” The bartender asked flatly, leaning in close enough for you to hear her. You sit up straight and swallow before responding. “Yeah actually, I would like-“ What the fuck?

“She’ll have two more shots a’ rye. Make that four if ya would. Thanks doll.” Your breath hitches when you’re cut off, eyes darting over to meet the man who you’d noticed earlier now sitting next to you. “Names Johnny”, he drawled. “Ya got one?” He leered at you. Eyes half lidded and a sly smile pricking at the corner of his lips. Your cheeks heat up when you realize you’d been staring the entire time. Fuck.

“Oh, m’sorry my names Y/N.” You shift in your seat. Embarrassment bubbling up and spilling over through the dark blush that’s crept onto your face. Johnny sucks on his teeth and runs a hand through his hair impatiently. A low sigh falling from his chest when the bartender places the shots down in front of him.

“Here ya go. Enjoy.” She huffed as she turned to tend to the other people around you. Johnny chuckled to himself and slid two of the glasses over to you with the back of his forearm. Your jaw tightened when you turned to face him again, he’s very handsome. Dark hair, freckled skin, even darker eyes. A jagged scar on his cheek, arms toned and exposed, covered in more cuts and scrapes that time has healed over, some look fresher than others. Farm work maybe? Mechanic? Who knows. Who cares.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Your vision hazy in your peripherals as your only focus is on him. His jawline is sharp and his lips are pursed as he throws back a shot, butterflies flailing in your stomach when a drop of whiskey slips from his mouth and he wipes it away with a hiss. “C’mon, I can’t be the only one drinkin’. Didn’t get those for nothin’.” Shit. Not again.

“Yeah, sorry about that”, You mumble. Picking up the tiny glass and tilting it against your lips. A lump forming tight in your esophagus when you try to speak again. “M’just a little drunk already, my tolerance is sorta low if I’m being honest.” Your movements feel delayed when you move your head too fast to glance at him.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ a lil tipsy now and then.” Johnny replied. “Though ya don’t really look the type.” He grinned, his eyes subtly draping over your figure. Ugh. Those butterflies from earlier feel like they could snap through your rib cage any minute.

“That so?” You giggle. Taking that last shot straight back before turning to face him. Confidence slowly creeping up your throat which you’re sure is just the whiskey making its rounds as it rushes through your bloodstream.

“I may not look the type, but that’s cause I know how to hide it. I’m real good at it too.” Johnny cocks an eyebrow and sneers, his face bouncing back and forth between confusion and curiosity. “So yer one of them good girls gone bad.” He teased. “And here I was thinkin’ ya were a sweet, innocent thing.”

“And that’s where you were mistaken sir.” You slur, leaning over the bar slightly. Your back arched and your head now laid across your arms, looking at Johnny through heavy lashes. The alcohol has you feeling like you could fuck this man in the back of your car. It also has you feeling like you could be making a big mistake doing so, but what’s life without one or two and you can't exactly tell the difference right now.

Johnny clears his throat as his eyes instinctively carve out the dip in your back. His jaw tightening and his teeth grinding together. You’re a feisty one. He likes that, he likes that a lot. But what he likes even more is that he can almost taste you with the way you look at him.

Your plump lips curved into a drunken smile and your eyes practically begging him to indulge. He swears he can hear your heart pounding, your blood pumping through your veins and it makes his cock strain against his zipper. But what makes it so enticing is that you have no idea what he really wants, what he needs from you.

“So”, Johnny leans in close. Close enough for you to smell his cologne and the cigarettes that stain his breath. “Ya wanna get outta here?” He whispered. His voice honeyed and hoarse, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know him, you’ve only been here a day and this isn’t even where you’re going to be staying.

“I- uh”, You stutter, picking your head up eyes flicking around at your surroundings anxiously. What do you do? You’ve already flirted. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders, but you’re both drunk. “I actually need to get going soon, I’m supposed to be on my way to a relatives.” Johnny chuckled in response.

“No need ta be shy now honey. I’ll take good care o’ ya’.” Johnny licked his lips and breathed heavily, hot breath fanning over the side of your face. “What happened ta that fire in ya darlin’? Did I snuff it out or are ya scared that I’ll prove ya right.” You swallow harshly. Panic starting to settle in where those butterflies were.

“No- I just need to go”, You stammer. Sucking in a sharp breath to steady yourself as you stood up from your seat, watching Johnny’s face turn.. Cold. The air around you now suffocating, starving for oxygen as you study the way his entire demeanor changed in an instant.

“It was nice to meet you truly. Thank you for the drinks. You’re more than welcome to walk me out if you’d like.” You added with a nervous smile. Johnny sat there unmoving. Eerily still like he was stuck in place, you grimace at the sick feeling that churns in your stomach when you offer him an uneasy hand. His eyes could burn holes into yours, staring blankly back at you. Had your words fell upon deaf ears?

“Of course. Would be rude o’ me not to walk ya out after gettin’ ya all flustered. My apologies.” You stumble slightly when he abruptly shoots upwards, his gloved hand held out to you. You take it with a nod of your head and he smiles. His hand holding yours ever so gently you almost feel bad as you walk hesitantly towards the door. Maybe the alcohol is clouding your judgement. But better safe than sorry.

The bell chimes above you and you’re sucked into the dark that’s swallowed daylight whole. The parking lot is emptier than what it was when you got here, when you look farther out there’s nothing for miles other than this broken little town. It feels lonely, like the ground itself craves liveliness and it's hanging on by a thread. Or a noose, whichever one is wearing thin.

You breathe in the crisp night air and let out an exasperated sigh at how good it smells but how heavy your body feels on top of your sore feet. You'll be glad to get some rest at the nearest Hotel you can find. Johnny drops your hand as you stagger up to your vehicle, letting his back slump against the passenger side door as you stand idly beside him. Admiring him once more.

“Well-“, You said softly. “Thank you. I had a good time.” Johnny flashes a smirk, his lips alone giving you butterflies all over again. But something strange seems to lurk behind his charming alliciency. Something watching, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. “No problem doll. Ya shoulda took me up on that offer, woulda had plenty more fun.” He teased. Winking at you like some High Schooler.

You giggle, arms crossing over your stomach. "Maybe we could do this again sometime if I'm ever back up this way." You added assuringly. Johnny's shoulders dropped with a huff as he pushed himself off of your car. Pausing for a moment as if waiting for you to react to such a bitchy cue that he's disappointed. Oh well.

You tuck your hair behind your ear. Looking up at the stars then back to him. “I better get going. It’s already late and I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.” Johnny rolled his eyes, earning a scowl from you that you tried to mask but failed miserably. “Nice meeting you.” You scoffed.

Walking to the opposite side of the car you open the door and hop in. Reaching to turn the key over but it doesn’t start. The engine rattles to life then sputters out completely. That’s when you realize something is wrong. AGAIN. Good, great. Love that.

“Somethin’ a matter?” Johnny mocked, a shit eating grin spread across his face. You groan, can’t have a moments peace even after drinking to ease the stress of it all. “Goddamn it, why me.” You grumble. Hands smacking the steering wheel, frustration evident as Johnny sauntered over tapping on your hood.

“Pop it. Let me take a look.” He offered and you don’t hesitate. Maybe he’ll be able to figure out what’s causing the old shit box to fuck up now. He hollers from under the hood and you lean your head against the wheel praying to whomever may be listening that it’s nothing more than a dead battery or a loose wire.

“So I’ve got bad news. Looks like ya won’t be goin’ nowhere soon, ‘specially not tomorrow unless ya wanna blow up on the way there.” You chuckle loudly, sarcasm lacing your words together as Johnny closes your hood and pats some grease off of his gloves and onto his jeans. “Could take my chances and see how long it takes for it to catch fire.”

Johnny glanced behind him and his jaw tightens when he faces you again like he was being watched. “Or ye could wait it out and I could have my old man fix it for ya sometime in the afternoon. Get ya back on the road in no time.” That’s the last thing you wanted, last thing you needed to do. Your family will be pissed if you don’t make it before sunrise. You can hear them now.

“Any chance you know what you’re doing and could temporarily fix it? Good enough to get me out of Texas?” Johnny groaned loudly, his Onyx eyes meet yours and chills climb up your spine. He tsks as he stalks over. Now towering above your body with his arm stretched over the length of the car door, staring down at you without a word. It’s silent between you other than the crickets and frogs chirping away in the distance. Something feels off. “..Johnny?”

“Was hopin' you'da changed yer mind by now. But I shoulda' known ya wouldn’t put out that easy.” You sit frozen as he inched closer, not grasping what he’d just said. But the fog in your brain clears when he lunges at you like a rabid dog. “Yer Mama ever tell ya not to talk too strangers!?” He hissed through gritted teeth. His voice now raucous and ringing in your ears when you're met with his hands wrapped around your throat. You gnash your teeth.

“I- Please, fuc-“ Spit sputters out of your mouth and your eyes pop open wide, your fingers instinctively clawing at his wrists. He’s going to kill you right here is what you tell yourself over and over, but you know better than that. And with what you suspects to come you wish he would but you know that’ll never happen.

“Yer gonna be real pretty to look at. ‘Specially when I’ve got ya strung up in my cold room cracked open and bloody.” Johnny's pupils blow wide at the doe like look in your eyes, the fear and the realization that pings through you as his hand closes tighter around your windpipe.

Goddamn you look good like that. Johnny yearns to see just how far you can go. How long you can last when his knife is plunged deep and your blood spills. How could he resist when that image burns bright in the back of his mind? You fell right for him just like he knew you would. Like they all do. That’s okay. He likes ‘em stupid. But there’s something about the way you continue to fight him when you know it’s no use that ignites that disgusting fire within him.

A wicked grin stretches his lips thin and a groan rumbles in the back of his throat when your fists pound helplessly at his chest. “Fuckin’ stupid bitch, what’dya think this was?” You try and breathe between broken sobs, digging your nails into his skin as hard as you can. Punching, scratching, kicking. He doesn’t budge.

“Seems I oughta teach ya a lesson or two ‘bout what it means to be a woman round' these parts darlin'." He snarled. Teeth bared, nostrils flaring as one of his hands tears at your scalp. You yelp like a kicked puppy, your hair tucked tightly between his nimble fingers, the force stinging like a 1,000 tiny bees. You can feel every strand beneath his grasp breaking and pulling away at the follicle.

Your eyes well with tears when you’re violently yanked from the front seat and thrown to the cold ground. It swipes the air right out of your lungs when your back pummels the dirt. Your face twisting along with your limbs. Pain radiating from the fresh scrapes and scratches that scatter along your spine. “Shut up!”

His other hand quickly clasps your mouth shut denying you of the breath you so desperately need to take. Shirt riding all the way up and the back of your thighs continuing to scrape along the asphalt as he jerks and drags you by your hair to what you assume is his vehicle.

You flail your legs in a hopes to throw him off balance, but all you do is fuck up your knee in the process when he rips you upwards and hip tosses you into the backseat of a pickup truck.

“Johnny please- Please don’t do this!” You squeal. Digging your elbows into the old tattered seat, trying to pull yourself away from him when he starts to crawl over you. 𝙉𝙤, 𝙣𝙤 𝙣𝙤 𝙣𝙤. You panic, what do you do?! Where do you go? No one will hear you, no one can.

You struggle to gather yourself mentally, your internal conscience screaming for you to do something, anything. And that’s when fight or flight rips what remaining nerves you have left to shreds and your whole body begins to tremble. That adrenaline that'd been lying dormant sending your hurt knee straight to his groin when his legs threaten to lock yours in place. “Fuck you, you sick fuck!”

“Yeah! Augh that’s it-“ He winced and you paused, watching his brows knit together and his head drop down with a grunt, picking it up slowly, jaw cocked open as he breathed in deep through his nose. “Hit me.” He rasped. Wearing a smile so vile it makes you want to vomit.

Acid burns the back of your throat when your head slumps against the inside of the door. That adrenaline you had flickering in and out as you ponder on what your family will think when you don’t show up. When you never give them a call. You wish you would’ve spoke to them sooner, or talked to them a little longer when you had the chance. Tears fall down your cheeks and your heart breaks as you stare back at what you deem the Devil himself.

You suck in a deep breath, shoulders rising as you prepare to scream with all your lungs can muster, but your mouth is quickly met with four gloved fingers pushing deep into the back of your throat. Eliciting a loud gag from you. The taste of old leather and grime sitting sour on your tongue, you shake your head and bite down hard against his knuckles. He snorts and his tongue darts out like a serpent snaking across his bottom lip. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“You were right about one thing, ain’t nothin’ innocent ‘bout this mouth o’ yours.” He jested, pulling his saliva coated digits out of your mouth, smearing them down your face with a smirk. You cough in response, the slight tickle in the back of your throat and his weight now baring down on top of you leaving you breathless. Brainless, almost incoherent.

“Fuck you.” You utter, moving your hand to smack that smug look right off his face but it’s stilled. You groan in protest when you notice he’s got your wrists pinned above your head with one hand. The other one God knows where and you glance around for anything you could possibly use to subdue him. Even a little.

Johnny leans down, his face just inches above yours. “And here I was thinkin’ you’d be just like all the others”, he whispered musing himself as he watched your facial expressions crinkle up and change ever so often. “Cryin’, beggin’ for yer life but no.” You swallow hard. Anger and fear fusing together in the pit of your stomach as he slowly starts to pick you apart, poking and prodding at your psyche.

His words squeeze their way into your frontal lobe and wedge themselves between your legs as his other hand traces along your abdomen, his fingers curling into the thin flesh between your ribs making you hiss and squirm beneath him. “Here ya are.. Barely makin’ a fuckin’ peep waitin’ to see what I’ll do next. It’s almost like ya wanna see, and I gotta hand it to ya sweetheart. You’ve done a lot more than pique my interest.” He paused, brushing stray hair out of your face, tilting his head to the side as if to admire you. And briefly he was, but his focus was on the way you smelled. The way he can imagine a sea of cherry flavored waves crashing through your body and how sweet it’ll be when it spills and splashes onto his tongue.

You blink away tears, lower lip quivering as he nudges your jawline with his nose. Sending chills down your spine when he nuzzles into your pulse point. “Goddamn, you smell s’good. Bet you’ll taste even better on the inside.” He muttered and a surge of adrenaline ripped through you once more. He’s not going to kill you, he’s going to eat you. He’s the widow, you’re the fly. He’ll suck you dry from the inside till you’re nothing more than a hollowed out shell of who you once were. Empty.

“What- What do you- FUUCKKK?! Oh my GOD!” You cry out in agony, white hot lightning searing through your skin just above your hipbone. Your teeth bare down so hard they could break. “That’s it, lemme hear ya scream for me.” Johnny growled, that gnawing need to use you growing stronger with each thrash of your hips under him. You were fucked.

And that’s when you realize you’d been cut. You never seen the blade but you knew nothing else would slice that quick and clean. Blood trickles down the dip in your waist. Wet and warm soaking into the seat as your head swims and your body writhes in pain. Johnny’s hand releases the hold on your wrists and grabs your jaw, pushing your lips into a pout as he moves your face side to side. His fingers digging into the fat of your cheeks roughly.

“What’sa matter huh?” He asked knowing the answer, its never changed. You stare at him blankly. “Cat got yer tongue?” No response. Okay. We’ll see ‘bout that.

Johnny brings his hunting knife into view. The glint of the blade now evident as the streetlight reflects off of the cold, bloodied, steel. You silently seethe with rage and he raises his eyebrows, pulling your face closer to his by the pinch of your cheeks. “Mm, there ya are. I knew ya were still in there somewhere.”

Your eyes burn and your heart pounds so hard you feel it in your temples. Pulsing along to the beat. Thump, thump, thump. The air around you both thick like cement and the fire that’s flickering alive between your legs has you reeling with shame. Looking up at him with pleading eyes, unable to understand what you truly want when it doesn’t even matter.

“Yer lookin’ at me like ya want a kiss baby doll”, Johnny husked. Low and rumbly, purring like a Tom cat but you knew his claws were bound to dig in deep and never let go. Your jaw coils up tight and you raise your head just slightly, nose to nose with him. “Fuck you.” You hiss between gritted teeth. Pathetic.

“You poor, sweet, thing.” He said with mock astonishment, bringing the tip of his blade to your bottom lip burying it against the plumpness of it with a chuckle. “Yer gonna break like fuckin’ glass when I’m done with ya.”

Didn’t take much for the sharpness of it to break skin and your body jolted at the temporary sting, blood slowly trickling down your chin. Johnny groaned at the sight, his mouth opening and his smooth tongue lapping up the crimson stream sickly. Not wasting anytime attacking your lips in a hungry kiss you did not reciprocate. You grimaced and pressed your lips into a harsh line but he nipped at the already broken skin and your mouth opened up with a whine. His tongue lathing yours with the taste of copper and tobacco.

Something within you gives and he takes. Your hand snakes into his hair, gliding through the greasiness of it. Meeting the starving pace of his lips against yours, surprise etching his features when he pulls away to laugh at you. “Oh honey, yer achin’ for it. I knew ya would.”

Johnny yanks you up by the collar of your shirt and swiftly switches his position pulling you onto his lap. Your thighs straddle him and his lips crash to yours once more, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, letting them lay atop his shoulders. Rough hands grab at your hips, and you moan into his mouth. His cock hard underneath you. The friction of it burning hot against your core, you can’t help but roll your hips, chasing that little bit of pleasure that’s so close your head spins.

“Don’t even think about it.” He growled, stilling your desperate movements, the pads of his thumbs digging deep into your soft skin. You shudder when you feel the blunt end of his blade now pressed to your sternum. “I’ll bleed ya fuckin’ dry ya try that again, understand?”

You nod your head and Johnny’s cock twitches at the submission. “Good girl.” He spoke like velvet lined his vocal cords and you mewl when his lips attach to your throat with teeth and tongue. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The warmth, the salty sweet taste of you, and the carnal need to plunge the thick steel of his hunting knife into your abdomen makes him pant like a dog.

One of his hands wanders farther down, kneading and grabbing the fat of your ass by the handfuls as the other moves you slightly, your slick core pressing against the top of his thigh now. You’re sure the wetness that’s pooled out of you is soaking through. “Ya wanna feel good?” He droned, looking at you with a predatory gaze that could rip you apart without a single touch to your skin.

“Yes, yeah I do.” You mumble, the tone in your voice half hearted and shaky. You’re just as deranged as he is. “Please make me feel good.”

“Look at that. Leakin’ through yer panties like a little slut. Gettin’ off at the thought of what I’ma do to ya, knowin’ it won’t end in your favor.” Johnny sighed. His breath hot and heavy.

“I’ma bad man Y/N, a real bad man. But you don’t care, ye hardly mind as long as that greedy cunt between yer legs is satisfied.” His eyes were like obsidian, black and blood thirsty. Yours were glassy from the tears that hadn’t failed to stream mercilessly down your face, stained black as your mascara smears. Looking down at him with your brows knitted together, mind battered and breaking at how much you ache for him. “Johnny, please?” Please.

“Go on then”, he spoke softly. “Ride my thigh.” Your mouth twitches and your thoughts haze, disassociation settling in briefly. “I said”, Johnny huffed, growing more impatient by the second as you sat there. His hand met your cheek with a loud slap, the skin there turning bright red, making your voice break out into a sob. “Rub yer fuckin’ cunt on my thigh, or I’ll leave yer pretty lil body layin’ on the side of the road like a slab of rancid meat.”

Your eyes well with tears once more, trying to find the words to say, barely grasping a thought in your head but the opportunity is ripped from you with another hard slap to your face. “Please I’m sorry!” You whine, saliva tinged red sitting metallic on your tongue. He scoffs and before you have time to process your pussy is now flush against his jean clad thigh, grinding your hips back and forth the length of it.

“Gotta do everythin’ my fuckin’ self huh?” He sneered, canines bared with a cocky smirk. His thumbs digging deep into your hips, earning a soft moan from your swollen lips as he slightly bounces his knee underneath you. “What was that darlin’? Can’t quite hear ya.” Johnny cooed. His nose tracing your jawline, a pleased hum rumbling in his chest when you buck your hips.

“Feels good.” You sigh breathlessly, eyes rolling back as you start to work with the push and pull of his strong hands. Rocking yourself at a steady pace, fingernails leaving indents into his scarred skin. Memories he won’t forget. Memories you won’t forget.

“That’s right. I can really feel ya soakin’ through now, dirty fuckin’ girl. Nasty.” His voice is like an old Country song playing on the radio, begging you to sing along. Southern twang making your heart flutter and cheeks flush.

Mama always said Christian girls should only listen to the word of our God. But the only thing you can hear right now is the ringing in your ears as you feel yourself roaring towards your first orgasm. Preach to me, Oh Lord.

“Oh fuck- Fuck!” You mewl, Johnny’s hands resting on top of your thighs now but you don’t notice. Your hips moving on their own accord. His eyes glued to your face as your jaw falls slack and your lungs give with such a pretty, pathetic, noise that he almost feels sorry for you. Like a bunny caught by the tail.

“Oh sweet girl, look at ya.” He rasped, cocking his head up, licking a Hell kissed stripe up your chin to your sensitive lips. Making you whine in protest when he pushes you off of his lap, his arms now draping over the back of the seat. Lazily opening his legs, clicking his tongue with a chuckle. “Yer turn.” He gestured with his hand, pointing to his rock hard length painfully restricted to his leg in the confines of his jeans.

The silence is mind numbing. Your body swarms with guilt and utter disgust blooms deep in your guts. How could you let such a depraved man use you like this? You’re going to die, your family will never see you again. Yet your gaze still shifts from him to his zipper, swallowing harshly as you close your eyes and move to your knees. They dig uncomfortably into the old itchy fabric of the seat.

“Get ta’ work doll. Ain’t got all night.” You wince at the reality of what happens next, an immobilizing weight hanging around your neck. You’d rather eat shit than get this man off.

But to your surprise he gently pushes his gloved fingers through your hair, massaging part of your scalp as he got to work on his zipper with the other. His cock springing free, smacking against his abdomen and you marvel at the sight. Thick, about 7 inches. Slightly curved. You squirm anxiously, inching towards him with your back arched. Face down ass up.

“I said- Ah, fuuuckkk.” Johnny groaned pornographically, head tipping back eyes fluttering shut when your small hand wrapped around the base. Carefully angling your lips right above his aching cock, letting a wad of saliva pool out of your mouth and onto his slit. Watching as it slowly drips down the fat of it, glistening in the street light shining through the windshield. You’re too far gone to stop now.

“That’s it, put it in yer mouth- Fuck yeah, just like that.” His bottom lip curls under his teeth when your hand glides down and twists back up just beneath the tip, using your thumb to rub at the underside of it as your plump lips wrap around what’s left to fit in your mouth. His hips buck and his grip tightens in your hair. A guttural growl rumbling in his chest when you take him deeper in without warning. Bobbing your head up and down aggravatingly slow.

“Gotta do better than that sweetheart.” You whine around him and gag simultaneously. His fist pounds against the back of his hand that’s clamped into your hair like a vice. Forcing the last inch of him to stab into the back of your throat. Your lips now sitting sloppy against his balls, nose pressed into the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock. The smell of musk and spit heavy in your nostrils.

Johnny scrapes his fingers through your tangled locks, breath rugged and chest heaving. He smirks to himself when your nails dig into the fabric of his jeans, your throat tightening around him with gag after gag. Tears stream down your face, vision blurry and hazing at the lack of oxygen. “Whores don’t need ta’ breathe, do they?”

Your eyes roll and your cunt squeezes around nothing. Drooling uncontrollably with the tip of his cock shoved harshly against the back of your throat, his pre cum leaking sickeningly sweet at the back of your tongue. He isn’t going to last much longer and though part of your mind is waiting for it to be over, the other part is yearning for more. For a release you’ll never get.

“Fuck”, he hissed. Your lungs threatening to give out till his hips buck and you’re granted one short breath, but it’s not long till he’s fucking your throat so hard that it hurts. “That’s right bitch- Take it. M’gonna fuckin’ cum.” Johnny had to bite back a whine when you broke out into a sob, a slobbering mess all for him and he reveled in the way you struggled to swallow his length. Struggled to keep yourself together.

His balls tense and he gives a couple stuttering thrusts and that’s it. He slams your head down once more with a loud groan and hot, thick, spurts of cum shoot down your throat. Rope after rope, making you choke and sputter. Spit and snot mingling as your nose runs and he pulls you off his cock with a wet pop. Tucking himself back into his jeans without another word. You wipe your face and sniffle, body trembling from the fear and arousal that’s clung to your nerves and between your thighs.

“Knew you’d be a good fuck.” He chuckled, a cynical expression on his face. “Could tell by the way those lips curved. S’shame I didn’t get to play with that pussy, though there’ll be plenty of time for that later.” What? No.. There wouldn’t be, not in a million fucking years.

“Go to Hell!” You took your chance and shot up bolting to grab at the door handle, hand still slick with spit and surprisingly it popped open and you almost fall out. But there was no escaping this man, he knew what he wanted and what he wanted was you. If he had to track you down to the ends of the Earth he would and he’d succeed. “Not quite yet sugar.”

Johnny yanked you back by your hair and you screamed to no avail. It was muffled by a rag, his big hand holding it tightly over your mouth and nose. With each breath your eyes grew heavier and heavier, a sweet smell lingering in your nose when you finally fell victim to sleep. Johnny let your head slump back into his chest before laying you down in the seat beside him, giving your ass a hard pat.

“Time ta go home, get ya settled in with the rest of the muts rottin’ down in the basement.” He tsked, pushing his gear shifter into drive before pulling out from the bar. Tires screeching down the road, white smoke billowing behind while you lay there in your drug induced slumber. Though you could faintly hear the rumble of his voice you couldn’t make out what he was saying. “I’ll make a pretty lil pup outta you darlin’. You’ll see.”

[n3chiro]

𝐹𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒱𝑜𝒾𝒹 • 𝒥𝒥𝒦

Synopsis: After a long day at your yoga classes you feel drained, but no need to worry, as always, Your beloved boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook is here to the rescue.

Genre: fluff, dating au, smut, romance.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Boyfriend material, Jungkook is a caring boyfriend, soft dom! Jk, sub reader, shower sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, reader loves her boyfriend’s massages, Jungkook is good with his hands, Jungkook swears a lot, this is kinda rushed srry, reader has slight kramps, ass slapping, Jungkook is down bad.

Inspired by “Fill The Void - The Weekend”

₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sighing as you take a break from a yoga pose as you watch your yoga instructor guide other people through their next yoga position, mostly it’s only women who volunteered for the yoga in order to somewhat improve in their body and flexibility, possibly.

Sitting on the sidelines you watch the ladies chatting away on their little bit of free time, slightly listening in in their conversation making you cringe most of the time and slightly laughing.

But your tired and you want to go home, you don’t own a vehicle sadly and as to how you got here was by an uber, you groan at the pain that’s coming from your stomach, making you slightly hiss. It’s the kramps, or that you just didn’t eat at all today since you weren’t hungry.

You see a woman approaching you with a pitiful look on her face, making you feel like a pathetic person.

“Hi um, miss Y/N?” The woman carefully asks as she watches you shake your head slightly, confused at to her sudden appearance she continues, making you sigh since you didn’t feel like conversation with anyone.

“Yes, that’s me.” You say, the tiredness didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“There’s someone here for yo—”

Her sentence was never completed when a few gasps and slight squealing from the ladies that were sitting on their yoga mats. Catching your attention and the woman that was talking to you, shocking you both, well only just the ladies since a huge smile spread across your delicate innocent-like face.

It’s your boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook.

He’s not even halfway inside the yoga studio when he’s spots you, hair is long and fluffy, as his grey sweatpants with a simple black oversized shirt that fits onto his body well, showing off the broad chest and six pack, the tattoos that slightly decorates his arm to his hand disappears into his pocket. Scanning the room as he sees the ladies eye him like a hawk, smirking and twirling their hair around like teenage girls.

But his eyes lands only on one person, the one her came her for, you.

You feel naked under his gaze, it’s intense. But you do nothing but smile, standing up from your seated position on the floor since your yoga mat was already rolled up and put away.

Walking towards your boyfriend you feel him eyeing you up and down, your wearing a simple black tank top with very thin leggings that show off your curves and your ass, the ass that you didn’t even know you had until you finally approached Jungkook and he took the chance to slap making a sharp sound.

You giggled as you heard a few gasps in the yoga studio, but you and Jungkook ignored them, a few whispers here and there but you didn’t care.

As you both exited the yoga studio, you found yourself smiling brightly as Jungkook opens the door on the passenger side for you as you get in and closing the door from the inside. You wait for him to get inside the car while you buckle your seatbelt, knowing how Jungkook will scold you if you don’t.

As Jungkook finally finishes putting your yoga mat and bag in the back seat, he hops into the driver’s seat. One hand on the steering wheel while the other focuses on the seatbelt, once he’s done he finds one hand on your coverd thigh, making you laugh at his actions.

“Hey babe, how was yoga?”Jungkook is the first to ask you about your day, you like that about him, he’s always there for you when you need him the most.

You sigh, “Stressful, they had us doing these impossible yoga poses and my body is small, and I wasn’t able to do them. My stomach was hurting the whole time, and im kinda sleepy.”

You see Jungkook nodding from the corner of your eyes, he was thinking about something. And whatever he was thinking about had to be good, he would always come up with suggestions to help take away your stress or pain—even the kramps, he knows your body better than you do.

“Perhaps i know something that could take away your pain baby.” You fully turn to Jungkook’s direction, caught off guard by his sudden deep voice. You would’ve noticed it earlier but it seems like you didn’t.

Your eyes light up like a Christmas tree, “You do?! What do you have in mind?”

Jungkook swiftly turns the steering wheel with one hand as he pulls up into the driveway of the beautiful large house you both share together, it’s only been two years since you moved in with him. And ever since, both of you can’t live without each other.

As the car comes to a stop you sit still in the passenger seat as you watch Jungkook unbuckle his seatbelt, he does the same to you but you don’t notice, still waiting for his answer.

Finally he looks at you, “I’ll tell you when we get inside the house.” You began to whine but Jungkook gives you a raised eyebrow, making you completely shut up.

Getting out the passenger seat you walked up onto the porch of the house and stick the house keys into the door.

The fresh breeze of lavender scent welcomes you, everything looks clean and neatly organized, the kitchen where the island rests in the center as all the glass bottles of wine remain inside the glass cabinets untouched.

Your pet snowballs, who is a white baby bunny greets you as he hops in your arms, you smile snuggling your face with his you hear a deep chuckle behind you.

Turning around, your met with a deeply handsome Jungkook, who stands there with your belongings in his hold as he uses his foot to close the front door.

Putting snowballs down, you fold your arms as you watch him carefully toss your things onto the couch, you was glad that he did that, because what was about to happen next neither of you wouldn’t feel like picking up items or belongings from off the floor.

“A massage.” Jungkook says casually, you smile at him because you absolutely love his massages and they were the death of you.

Taking off your shoes you look at him once more, “I also had something in mind.”

Raising his eyebrows Jungkook slowly approaches you, licking his lips in the process, “And what would that be? Hmm?”

Running up the stairs you found yourself giggling and laughing loudly as Jungkook chased up behind you, dangerously close to catching you, though you don’t do to much as you still have slight kramps, as you ran into your shared bedroom and closed the door, following with you locking it. Completely forgetting that Jungkook has a key for that very reason.

As you enter the bathroom that’s in the room you quickly take off your tank top, leaving yourself in your black bra and leggings as you turn on the shower.

Your hand reaching under the head of the shower to see if the water was warm enough, not even noticing Jungkook sneaking up behind you. Before you can free yourself from your bra and leggings you feel a strong pair of arms lift you up, practically snatching you away from the shower.

A surprise yelp left your lips as you feel the tip of Jungkook’s fluffy hair against your skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanned your skin. You hear him sigh in content, making you giggle.

“Kook stop, i need to take a shower! Im sweaty!” You wined, feeling Jungkook’s hands on your clothed breasts since that was how he was able to hold you upwards, you could feel him give them a light squeeze making you gasp, as he smirks. He does it again and that’s when you completely give in.

Swiftly turning you around to take in your flushed face, Jungkook kisses you deeply, the kiss was passionate and you found yourself letting his tongue explore your mouth more.

Moaning you tug on his black shirt while tilting your head to the side as he continues to deepen the kiss, his hands finds their way on your back as he slowly unclips your bra, letting the material fall onto the clean floor of the bathroom. You don’t hesitate to take off his shirt the moment he removed the only barrier that was covering your breasts, your able to get a full glance at his bare chest and he looks absolutely stunning, with or without clothes.

As you both break away from the kiss, you found yourself panting.

“Fuck, now im horny.” Jungkook groans, making you chuckle, you then move your arms to cover your breasts.

“Well too bad, I have to shower. Maybe after I finish showering then we’ll see.”

Jungkook kisses his teeth making you chuckle, “By then I’ll have blue balls by the time you come out the shower.”

You roll your eyes when you hear Jungkook began groaning, “You have a better idea then?!” You swear you saw a smirk creep onto his face a second ago.

“Shower sex!”

“Absolutely no—” You began, but Jungkook shushes you as he continues to reason with you about the shower sex topic.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Jungkook gives you a raised eyebrow, making your mouth fall open at the catchphrase. Sighing as you thought for a moment.

You or Jungkook had always tried new things during sex, that’s what made your sex life so exciting and fun for the both of you, it was always something different and it made you both feel even more connected to each other.

Car sex, beach sex, even the pool, hotel sex, a 69 position, prone bone position, reverse cowgirl position, doggy style position.

So what made you not want to try shower sex with Jungkook?!

Well, it’s worth a shot, and it definitely sounds hot as fuck…

“Okay,” You breathed out, watching the way Jungkook eyes darkened when you have him the okay to go, he then closed the distance between you both making you slightly confused.

Backing you up against the wall inside the shower while the head of the shower sprays water down on both of your half clothed bodies, the water is at a nice temperature as you stared at Jungkook’s now wet and long dark hair.

“Oh my god! Jungkook my leggings are soaked!” You yelp out, putting your hands on his shoulder’s as he kneels down to your legs. Yanking off the completely soaked material, right along with your white lacey panties that he found quite sexy.

You laugh at his carelessness when he flings your soaked leggings and panties onto the bathroom floor, looking down at him as you feel his lips leaving tender kisses up your legs and to your thighs, Jungkook stands up as your gaze never left his figure.

Quickly remembering that you’re the only one that’s naked you make him take off his pants as well as his calvin klein boxers, once he’s completely naked for you to see—he pulls you into another passionate kiss.

Using your free hand to close the shower door as the fog begins to form.

Jungkook then lifts you up, his hands under your ass as he holds you and your legs wraps around his waist, you stare him in the eyes while your arms is around his neck. “So, no prep?” You ask innocently, Jungkook murmurs a small ‘no.’

The condom is out of the question, this would be the second time you both have had sex without a condom, but neither of you cared. And you didn’t mind being pregnant with his kids, after all, you both plan on spending the rest of your lives together anyways.

Even though Jungkook is strong enough to hold you by himself, he still has your back pressed up against the showers wall, while he holds you up by your ass. “Kook.” You moan, as you feel the tip of Jungkook’s cock against your wet vagina.

Without warning, Jungkook thrusts in. Making you gasp as you dig your nails into his back. Moaning loudly as he penetrates inside of you, the water harshly dripping down both of your naked bodies as you hear Jungkook groan. But your surprise at his sudden fast pace, as he constantly hits your g-spot making you cry out, Jungkook looks at you with his half lidded eyes as he watches you cry.

Since he was going at a fast pace you used one of your free hands and grabbed desperately onto the handrail that was in the shower above your head for support.

“Jungkook, I can’t.” You sob, feeling you grip on the handrail slightly slipping away.

Jungkook grunts, feeling your walls tighten around his cock. Almost preventing him from thrusting in deeper, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He knows you’re almost about to cum, because you always become this sensitive. And he loves every bit of it.

“I know, i know.” Jungkook coos at your teary face, he ignores you digging your nails into his back practically decorating it with scratches which he didn’t mind, in fact, he thought it would be hot.

If anyone were to walk in, they’d probably only be met with a foggy bathroom with clothes scattered onto the clean floor, and face with the shower glass door that’s covered with fog. And if they were able to see inside, they’d be greeted with Jungkook’s broad back and your legs wrapped around his waist as your small hands gripping onto his back.

“Fuck.” Jungkook hissed.

“Kook, im close,” You moan out, tighten your grip around him.

A few more thrusts has you both cumming undone onto each other, your hot breaths fanned each other’s faces while making intense eye contact. No words were said until you feel jungkook pulling out of you as hus cum drips down your inner thighs.

Carefully setting you on your two feet to stand up in the shower, you sigh, thinking that he wad done and you can finally and actually shower. But poor you, Jungkook was far from done.

But you would find that out sooner or later right?

[girlslikestarlight]

doing the accountability work ⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

here is how we grow. here is how we glow. it isn't easy doing inner work but it grants us self-knowledge and power to face the future.

This is a journalling exercise to guide us in letting go of our ego and becoming accountable for our own lives. No blame-sharing, no self-victimising, we are putting ourselves in the driver's seat of our own lives.

<image from pinterest, resource used: becoming the one sheleana aiyana>

⊹ ࣪ ˖ PURPOSE

To become accountable for patterns in your life. By recognising the core feelings that underpin your impulses to criticise or rage or blame, you can decide to self-regulate and own your experience instead.

By reflecting on all of our actions and qualities, we will be making ourselves vulnerable (and that's the hard part!) but it's all done to reach a place of self-acceptance.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ JOURNALLING

Using your journal (maybe it's online, maybe it's a secret diary in your bottom drawer), answer the questions below.

Remember to be kind to yourself while you answer! If you experience uncomfortable or emotional reactions, this is totally normal and you can take all the time in the world to complete these prompts. There's no pressure here -- everything comes from you.

I'm going to be doing this along with you too, so we won't be alone on our journeys. The questions I found the hardest/got stuck on are in purple.

What is your default emotion in conflict (e.g., anger, sadness, fear, anxiety)? How do you tend to express yourself when you're upset (e.g., yelling, attacking, blaming, shaming, over-apologizing, shutting down)? What emotion are you the most afraid of in others? What judgments do you have about that emotion? Do you let yourself express or feel that emotion? When you do, what happens? Are there any recurring feelings from childhood that tend to pop up in your adult relationships (e.g., feeling unheard, unseen, powerless, abandoned)? What traits or characteristics repulse you the most in other people (e.g., greed, jealousy, anger, boastfulness, arrogance)?    Do you see those characteristics in yourself at all? If yes, write a bit about how that characteristic or trait shows up in your own expression.  What sides of yourself do you show when you're the most comfortable with someone or with your closest friends (e.g., silly, expressive, serious)?    What do people assume about you that feels hurtful?    What do you wish people saw in you? How could you practice embodying more of that now? What emotion would you like to learn how to be more comfortable with? What is a habit or pattern of behavior you are ready to shift?

Maybe you're emotionally pent up and need to exercise or cry for a release. Maybe some questions are too tough to think about. This post isn't going anywhere, so feel free to save it for another time when you feel like you've reached a good emotional distance.

Be kind to yourself. That's what matters most.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yours secretly,

Starlight

[hyunnieshannie]

Walking On Glass

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅Master List⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅

I : Yang fucking Jeongin.

♥: Yang Jeongin x AFAB Reader ★: The author is prone to adding tags as they go, Mentions heavily of death, Mentions of Murder, Anxiety, Past Trauma, and Nightmares -- It's a dark fic.

“There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion” -Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia, 1838

The piercing sound of your alarm jolts you awake, another day passed you by yesterday and now a new one calls out to you. You can’t help but groan, at the idea of having to leave the comfort and warmth of your bed. Reluctantly and with a heavy sigh you finally muster the energy to get up and drag yourself through the apartment, still half-asleep. Gathering your things, you prepare yourself physically and mentally for the day ahead. 

 Your walk to the bus stop was rather uneventful, with cars whizzing past you, and the pedestrians hurrying along in their daily rush to work. You nod in appreciation to the bus driver as you step onto his bus, immediately drowning yourself out from the world by placing your headphones on, in hopes to avoid any sort of conversation. 

A couple of stops pass, and just as you settle into your music-induced bubble, May boards the bus in a rush, her bag half-open in her hands. Spotting you, she waves frantically and quickly pays her fare. Without delay, she darts towards the seat next to you, yanks one of your earphones out, and places it in her ear, as if inviting herself into your private world.

Surprised by May's sudden intrusion, you offer her a half-hearted smile, unsure of how to react. She always had an unpredictable energy about her, and you knew resisting her enthusiastic company was often futile.

“How’d I know you’d be listening to this song?” She laughs,

“Woke up late again?” You sigh.

May chuckles and tosses her hair playfully, her confident demeanour shining through. "Oh, you have no idea! Looking this good takes some serious effort," she teases 

“If only you’d put as much effort into your studies as you do your looks; you’d be unstoppable.” You smile back at her as she sits down.

“Not everyone can be like you, Y/N. I can’t be pretty and smart, that's too much work!” She giggles, as she pulls out a hair brush and begins to tie her hair back into a loose ponytail. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As you arrive at the school May turns to you and says, “I hear we have a new student coming in today; I hope he’s nice.” 

He of course it's another boy, another distraction for her. 

“Great.” You sigh. 

You make your way slowly to your morning lecture, quickly finding your spot as May turns around in her seat to face you as everyone else files in, 

“He’ll probably end up falling madly in love with me an-”

“Madly in love with you?” Seungmin scoffs as he sits beside May. “I got a look at him, and you’re totally not his type.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT,” May’s flustered face says it all, she doesn’t want to be his type anyways Seungmin. 

“Trust me, you’re not his type. He looks like he’s dropped out like five times- actually, honestly, he kinda looks like the type to shoot up the-” 

“Not funny Seungmin.” You sigh, “School shootings are an actual problem, and people who do those kinds of things are mentally ill. You can’t just go and label someone you don’t know as someone who would do something like that, just because of his appearance.” 

“My bad little miss ‘I’m going to study murderers for fun’, All I’m saying is he’s the type to want to be alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was some creep though. He has these like-” leave it to Seungmin to remind you of your goals in the most condescending way. You love your best friend you truly do, but at times you wonder if he truly understands why you set the goals you have. Not that he would ever fully get it. Not that anyone in the room would truly ever understand your fascination with the inner workings of the mind of a killer.

“ALRIGHT CLASS SETTLE DOWN.” Professor Wade says as he walks in, adjusting his glasses and placing his books on the podium at the front of the class, “Today as you’ve all heard we have a new student. Please come in and introduce yourself to the class.” he gestures for the student to come in from the hall. 

“My name is Yang Jeongin.” He says coldly as he stares toward the back of the class. “I transferred here from another country. That’s all you need to know about me.” Your professor stares blankly at him. Seungmin was right though, the guy is offputting. Sharp brown eyes, and long black hair. Dressed in all black, and topped off with a dead look in his eyes, anyone would think he was some ‘weirdo’ - a loner. 

“Alright, now why don't you go and sit beside Y/N.” Jeongin smiles at the teacher and makes his way up the lecture hall stairs to the seat next to yours. 

“Hi, I’m May!” May whispers excitedly to him, 

“Don’t talk to me.” He says looking annoyed as he finds his pen. May looks at him with a confused expression, she reaches for her phone and sends a text to your group chat.

Jeez, what's wrong with the new guy? He was so mean… she pouts. Seungmin put his hand on her shoulder and laughs

“I told you, you aren’t his type” He whispers, May turns to him and lightly punches him, 

“SHUT UP!” she yells, the silent class looks towards her, her face turns a bright shade of red from embarrassment “Sorry.” 

You study the boy next to you as your professor recaps the last lesson. As you noticed earlier, Jeongin wears all black. He’s got long black hair, but you can see the glint of silver jewelry shining through it. Piercings. He wears a silver chain around his neck, but the pendant is hidden under his shirt. Silver rings, and black boots. Sharp eyes that stare coldly towards the front of the room. He’s pretty but rude. Arrogance, radiating off of him. Does he think he’s too good to be here? 

“Staring is rude, if you want something- ask now or leave me alone.” he deadpans, looking at you as if he was looking through you. Almost as if he was reading your mind, “Whatever it is your brain is thinking about me, forget it. Whatever assumption you’re making about me is wrong.”

“I- was just admiring your outfit” you mutter, bringing your eyes back to your notes. 

“Don’t lie to me either. I can see through that shit. You’ll do better by being honest with me.” he slowly places his pen down and shifts so that he’s leaning closer to you, “Listen. I don’t care about whatever your first-year psych brain is attempting to say about me, I’m not your patient. So stop trying to analyze me.” he turns away from you and continues on taking notes. Whatever issue Yang Jeongin has, you want nothing to do with it. You can only hope the semester passes by quickly, and that you won’t have to ever interact with the person beside you.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After a few excruciating hours of listening to Professor Wade go on about the psychological effects of trauma you’re finally released from prison. “Let's go to the cafe to study today.” You say with a smile, Seungmin nods in agreement and May follows along. You enjoy going to the cafe after classes, the warm evening breeze and the smell of fresh coffee is relaxing after class and the cozy environment of the cafe provided the perfect atmosphere to study in. Seungmin heads towards your usual booth, with May tailing behind him as you go to make your coffee orders. 

“One large Strawberry coconut refresher, one Large iced americano, and one Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel please” You smile at the cashier who punches in your order, 

“Three drinks for one person? Are you that thirsty?” A voice says from behind you, you turn around and look up at  Yang fucking Jeongin. 

“I'm here with May and Seungmin actually,” you smile, it was better to be civil than to give him the actual expression your brain so desperately wanted to give. He looks down at you seriously.

“Hm. Excuse me, could you add a second large americano please.” the cashier nods as he steps in front of you and pays for the order, he was so rude to May and now he’s paying for our drinks. What’s with him? “I’ll help you take these to your friends.” he picks up the Americanos and looks to you to guide him to your spot.

“Would you like to sit and study with us?” you ask with an awkward smile,

“Sure.” you walk up the steps to your booth where Seungmin sat watching May take selfies. You hand May her strawberry drink, and Seungmin his caramel drink, then slide into your spot on the opposite side of them. Jeongin sits next to you and places your coffee by you; May makes a confused face and looks back at her textbook. 

“He paid for our drinks so I asked if he wanted to study with us. I hope you don't mind.” You kick Seungmin  lightly under the table and force a smile at him notifying him to get May to cooperate 

“Oh. OH No we don't mind at all right May?” He smiles awkwardly and May only let out a huff. You spent the rest of the evening studying and joking amongst each other, though Jeongin stayed silent for most of it, only ever talking when it came to studying. Most of the time it felt less like he was studying the curriculum and more like he was studying the group the entire time, by the end of the night you could feel he was bored of your company. 

“I should head out guys, I have things to do around the house,” You say as you begin packing up your books, 

“Your apartment is in pristine condition, what could you possibly have to do?” Seungmin laughs 

“Tidying mainly” you sigh, “Chores don't get done themself you know” You let out a small sigh, 

“Chores? You live alone and you give yourself chores?” Seungmin looks at May and laughs at the confused look on her face “What I'm serious! If I lived alone I’d be free and live as I wanted!” 

“That’s why we always go to Y/N’s place. I can't imagine what your room looks like.” Seungmin laughs, Mays's face burns red, as she looks down to hide her clear embarrassment.

“Shut up.” Seungmin you idiot.

“I should head out as well.” Jeongin says abruptly, “Thanks for letting me stay.” He gets up, grabs his things and walks out. 

“He’s so strange,” May says, as you all get up to leave. Soon after you say your goodbyes and head out. 

The bus ride back to your apartment was quiet and short. Your brain was doing its best to wrap around something you didn’t quite know. A feeling you’d never had before. Some sort of familiarity but from what? You wouldn’t be able to tell. 

After a hot shower, You sit yourself on your couch and turn on the tv. “I should eat,” you mumble to myself, you walk to the kitchen as the news plays on the screen in your living room, 

“Reports from [your city]’s 11th ward state another young woman has been murdered,” the tv blares, “The woman was found in her home with a gunshot wound to the chest, [Your city] police say they have no witnesses and no leads.” The newscaster reads out,

Another one. This is starting to get closer to home too. It makes me sick to my stomach. You close your fridge. I'm not even hungry anymore. 

Tags: @chanlixiiee @amalieworldidk @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @elizalabs3 @jisungsbff01 @seungminslittlepup @lieghscloud @foxinnie8 @scarletbedlam @kpoppin-to-the-beat @stay-berry @bbymatz @kurxxmi

[sweet-villain]

Thoughts~ E.M

@somethingvicked asked:

HC/one-shot for reader telling Eddie they don't want to have children and he's ok with it - "we're already co-parenting a smaller army with Steve and Robin", and "if we ever get tired of just being the two of us - not likely - we can always get a cat!"

Tags : : @ceriseheaven @josephquinnlover0 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @stillfalling30minslater @alyisdead @witchy-munson

My Master List is in This Area

You tossed and turned around in bed, only one thing on your mind. How were you suppose to tell your boyfriend that you didn't want to have children? You saw the way his eyes light up at the sight of them when he went with you to the grocery store the other day.

" they have the most cutest cheeks, just wanna pinch them and blow a raspberry on them" Eddie gushed as he sat in the driver seat of the van. He kept talking about them all the way home, but you didn't want kids.

You had nephews and nieces that roamed the house running around, screaming and your sister barely had time to gather herself when you came over one weekend.

You laid in bed wide awake staring at the ceiling with the sounds of snores besides you and an arm wrapped around you. Eddie was sound asleep with not a worry on his mind. Not like you. He doesn't even know that you don't want kids. You are scared to tell him, you don't want to lose him. Did he want kids? You were sure of it when you heard him talk about them and the way he was around your nephew and nieces.

They climbed him like a tree, telling him how much they love his hair and he told them how he plated guitar. They claimed he was cooler than you ever way.

You sighed throwing the covers off yourself, you were sure you weren't going to get any sleep. You slowly stood up from the bed, turning to glance down to see if Eddie has awoken up. He didn't as he mumbled turning on his back.

You breathed out a sigh of relief making your way into the kitchen passed Wayne who was passed out on the couch. You quietly opened the fridge to get yourself a glass of milk but it wasn't too quite as you thought because when you closed the door, Wayne groaned and sat up.

He brushed a hand down his face.

" What are you doing up, kid?" he asks getting up as he made his way to the kitchen. " I couldn't sleep" you mumbled pouring some milk.

" Anything on your mind?" he gruffly asked. He placed two hands on top of the counter as he glanced at with sleep in his eyes.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you debated weather to tell Wayne what has been bothering you or not. He can see something was bothering you as he takes in your expression.

" You don't got to tell me if you don't want to kid, but you need some sleep"

"I-I don't really want kids... I don't know how to tell Eddie.." you mutter. Wayne opens his arms, " come here."

You put the glass on the counter as you headed around, putting your arms around Wayne as he rubs your back.

" That's totally fine, kid. Eddie will understand. That boy loves you till his last breathe. Talk to him, it's okay to be scared too" you nodded looking up at him.

" Thank you" He chuckles, " Go back to bed. Best bet you'll get a few more hours in before that boy will wake you up" you both turned hearing snoring coming from the bedroom.

" He sleep like the dead of the night" Wayne mutters, laughing with you.

" Goodnight Wayne" you smile over to him as you turn to walk down the hall to the bedroom. " Goodnight, kid" he says putting away the milk you took out and putting the glass back as he headed back to the couch.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The door to Family Video opened, you were too busy to notice who came through the door as you were helping a little boy pick out a movie that he could watch with his mom. There was a section of children films.

" Thank you so much Miss!" the little boy beamed holding to films in his hands as he hopped on his feet. You were kneeling on the ground as you watched him with a small laugh. You didn't notice your boyfriend was behind you watching the interaction. His brown doe eyes light up at the sight and he hears your laugher.

It was his favorite sound.

" Isn't that cute?" Robin says as she stands next to Eddie with her hands clasped together under her chin. " Don't you think, Munson?" she nudged Eddie on his arms.

Eddie nodded but he was too busy in a trance watching you interact and when you turned around, you jumped a bit back seeing Eddie standing there with Robin.

" Um, how long have you two been standing there?" Robin shrugs while Eddie has a hint of red on his cheeks.

" Not too long, sweets" he says rubbing the back of his neck. " That was cute" he motions towards the little boy that was talking to his mom and heading to the counter where Steve stood to take care of them.

" yeah" you nodded watching the little boy because you were too scared to look at Eddie to know he's watching you like a hawk with an expression on your face that you couldn't tell.

" You'd be a good mom one day" Robin tells you. Your whole body freezes. " I just remember, I have to get a box from the back. Yeah!" you nodded rushing to the back feeling your stomach turning.

Eddie and Robin share a look between each other.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You had your hands in your pockets of your jacket as you walked down the small path with Eddie by your side. The wind kissing your cheeks as you bring your jacket to bury your nose in the collar of it.

" Cold?" Eddie asks. You turn to look at him and he can tell your nose is red along with your cheeks. It's one of the cutest sights he has ever seen but he stops you from going further.

" Are your hands cold?" he asks. You shake your head and offer him your hands knowing he had something up his sleeve like always. Eddie takes out two pair of gloves from his pockets, they are red and adorable. They are smaller than his hands meaning he got them for you.

" Left hand first" you put out your left hand for him as he puts on the glove for you, " right hand now" you give him the other hand he does the same. You watch him take off his hat on top of his head and put it on yours while he puts up his hood over his head.

He always was going to look after you, you are his baby.

" All better?" he asks. You nodded, shyly.

Small fit of giggles interrupt your moment with him as you turn your head to look at two little kids running around the a tree. A small smile lights up on your face and it catches his attention.

Something about the way you look, brings him joy at the moment and his thoughts go to having kids with you one day. But he isn't going to mention it yet. He doesn't want to spring this up on you like that.

He is fine if you won't want kids either, as long as he has you in his life that all that matters to him.

" Come on it's getting too cold" you mumble taking his hand in yours as the two of you continue to walk. He frowns at the way you brush it off and not say anything about the two little kids that wave to you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

" Don't you dare touch that, Henderson!" Steve warned, " it's too hot" he says pushing Dustin's hand away as he sets a big bowl of pasta. Dustin wanted to have a small string first before anyone else.

" Did you wash your hands?' you asked him, standing behind him with your hands on your hips. Dustin freezes at the sound of your voice as he slowly turns to find you behind him with a stern look on your face.

" Uh.. no?" he says. You take Steve's towel. from his shoulder as you swat him in the arm. " Get your butt in the bathroom and wash them!" he huffs mumbling underneath his breath " yes mom" and rubs his arm as he stomps away.

" How about the rest of you?" you faced Will, El, Lucas, Max and Mike. They all sat around the table talking and once they heard the sound of your voice, they stopped.

They all were quiet until Eddie walked into the kitchen.

" I believe you were asked a question" he stands with his arms across his chest as he taps his foot on the ground and waiting for their responses. They look at one another and frown.

" No" chairs scarped against the floor as they made they way to the bathroom grumbling, " we're going, we're going."

" I find it so hot how you mother them" he pecks your cheek.

" I'm in the kitchen too, keep it in your pants, Munson" Steve grumbles. " Don't stand there, set the table you two" you stuck your tongue out to Steve.

" Your just jealous I have a boyfriend" Steve rolls his eyes. " Yeah, I'm sure I can give you some of my love too, Harrington" Eddie teases.

Steve ignores him as everyone comes back. You loved the kids like they were your own little pack. Looking around at each one, they all have grown to adore you and even call you mom sometimes.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Eddie couldn't keep it off his mind about seeing you around kids, the way you were around the rest of the gang and that time in Family Video with the little boy. He drops his pencil down from working on the campaign as he looks over at you on the couch. You were in your own world happily writing in your own notebook with your tongue out. A habit you picked up from Eddie.

" Sweetheart?" he calls out to you. You turn your head hearing him call out to you. " What is it? Do you need help?" He shook his head as he stood up from where he was sitting and made his way towards you.

He nervously bite down on his bottom lip as he tapped his fingers against his knee.

" You're scaring me, Eds" you took his hand in your and brought it to your lips to kiss on top of his hand.

" D-do you ever think about having kids?" He went straight with it as he asked turning his body to you.

This is what you were afraid of. This conversation with him. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you look at him. There was worry in his eyes when you didn't answer him. He sees you struggling.

" Hey, it's okay we don't-" you cut him off.

" I don't want kids" his face dropped but he didn't pull away as he let it sink. " But.. you.." he hummed in confusion.

" I like the life we have now, together" he turns his head to look at you. You were serious about this. He knew that. A small smile light up on his face as he cups your face with his hands.

" That's perfectly okay sweets. We're already co-parenting a smaller army with Steve and Robin", and "if we ever get tired of just being the two of us - not likely - we can always get a cat!"He says in excitement.

You giggle at the way he was fine with this and getting a cat wouldn't be too bad.

" A cat?" he nods.

" We can name him Freddy, Jason or Michael" Eddie continue to rant on how cute the cat would look, how he buy the cat little cute outfits and cuddle with him.

" It can be our own little baby" he gushes, waving his hands around as he jumped on the couch.

" We can look into it" you mumble. He happily grabs your face and lays kisses all over it, giggling.

" But we aren't naming him Jason" you tell him.

[chaotic-on-main]

Speak Now | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Based on ➼ Speak Now by Taylor Swift

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!OC

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, angst, arranged marriage, expletives

☾ Author's note ➼ I heard this song come on while I was driving to work today and I had the biggest inspiration to write this little one-shot. I refused to do anything else. But worry not, I'm currently working on my January chapter for Unspoken Words. I hope y'all enjoy my cheesy thoughts! Also don't @ me I love Taylor Swift and you'll have to pry the entire album of Speak Now from my cold, dead hands for me to stop listening to it. (Also this is written in second person but for my sanity I named the character instead of using y/n because typing that drives me insane)

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k

☾ Inspired by ➼

“Faye, this is a bad idea.” Your best friend, Hange, says from the driver's side.  

“Pft, you’re the queen of bad ideas, I don’t wanna hear it.” You retort back. 

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Hange’s car which is parked across the street from a very ostentatious chapel. You eyeball the nauseatingly dressed invitees through binoculars as they make their way through large double doors. Knuckles turn white around the barrels as you consider your plan. Was it too much? Maybe. But you decide you don’t care.  

“Well, yeah. But at least my ideas wield good results. This is just downright insane.” They shift in their seat to stare at you incredulously. You put down the binoculars to wave your hands at them dismissively. Pulling your hair up in a quick ponytail, you unbuckle yourself from your seat and tut at her.  

“Who said this won’t? Just keep your phone out of your pocket, I’ll let you know if I need anything.” They just huff at you, exasperated. But they make no move to stop you, so you open the car door and pull yourself out, carefully shutting it behind you. Nervously you pull at your blouse, inspecting the entrances available to you. You spot a couple side doors that were unmanned so you opt for that route, heading to the one on the left. You duck your head to not be noticed as you shuffle past everyone else, your nose is permeated with repugnant perfumes and colognes. After you take a quick look over your shoulder to make sure no one is looking your way, you twist the doorknob to check if it’s locked.  

Click 

‘Oh, thank god.’ You think to yourself as you push on the door gently. Taking a quick glance inside as well as behind you one last time, you slip in and close it slowly behind you. You find yourself in a long, empty hallway with a couple of doors hanging off to the right. A long archway at the end opens up to who knows where. Faint chattering reverberates off the walls as it makes its way down to you. You sigh quietly and start stalking your way down but freeze when you hear loud shrieking coming from one the doors in front of you. It’s slightly ajar so you sneak a peek inside the crack to see a bride, his bride, wearing the most unpleasant gown that reminded you of a pastry. She’s roaring at a bridesmaid who was almost in tears. You see an older woman, her mom you think, is dressed in pastels to match the details of her wedding dress. The mom slaps a tiara out of the bridesmaid’s hand and the poor girl flinches back in surprise. 

“I thought I told you to bring me my bouquet! Where is it!?”  

“I-I’m sorry, I was told to bring you your t-tiara first. I’ll g-go get it n-now.” She stands up straight and starts heading to the door and your eyes widen as you whip against the wall, lying as flat and still as possible. The door flings open and the bridesmaid rushes down the hallway in front of you, not even noticing you. Releasing a breath you held the whole time, you sneak past the door while the bride and her mom are looking away, focused on putting on her sparkling head piece.  

You wouldn’t have to do such a thing if she had not uninvited you in the first place. She had thought you a threat at the very beginning of her ‘relationship’ with him, which thinking back on it and your actions now, is understandable. But she was unbearable, and you thought ‘to hell with family legacies’ because seeing Levi with someone else that couldn’t care less about what kind of floor cleaner was the best brand hurt you more than you could stand. He’s your best friend, she did not deserve any part of him. 

Creeping your way through the rest of the hallway, you pause every once in a while to take note of your surroundings. Every door slam and spoken word makes you freeze. Eventually, you get to the last door in the hallway; it sits partially open, and you glance in. You see him standing in front of a mirror, fixing his signature cravat to his neck with a cold expression across his face. Biting your lip, you slide in the door and shut it behind you carefully. Levi falters at the reflection of your sudden appearance but doesn’t turn around, instead he stares at you with dark, gray eyes and pursed lips. 

“Tch. You shouldn’t be here.” he says dryly.  

“Neither should you. I can’t believe you’re going along with this.” You fold your arms across your chest and stare hard at him. He just sighs, aggravated at this conversation yet again. But his voice is soft. 

“Faye, listen. I don’t have a choice. It’s only business, our families ne-”  

“Cut the shit, Levi. You have a choice, you always have a choice. I don’t care about their business, or even their happiness! I only care about yours. And you are not happy.” you cut him off, tone cold.  

“You don’t know what I am.” His deep timbre turns sharp. He finally turns on you, his eyes flash to yours and you hesitate for a moment before straightening your back to stand your ground.  

“We’ve been best friends since we were children, I know exactly what you are.” He narrows his eyes at you, a scowl framing his face with down-turned eyebrows. He takes a couple steps towards you in a challenge, but you refuse to budge. 

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me then. What am I?”  

“You’re a dick for starters. A complete asshole. You act all tough and mighty but you’re as soft as a marshmallow in there. And you’re loyal, which seems more like a curse than a blessing nowadays. You take orders from those above you even though you hate them. And boy do you hate them.” You take a deep breath and he’s just staring at you with icy eyes.  

“Is that right?” He moves closer to you now, but you plant your feet and stare down at him, unwavering. He’s so close that you can feel his body heat radiating through his black suit.  

“Yes, and you’re so stubborn. You refuse to let go of anything. You’re annoying and yes, you are such a brat sometimes! And you’re cold, you act like nothing bothers you, but I know it does. Because you’re my best friend. I know what you are. And you’re not happy.” You trail off, his eyes boring into yours as you take a shuddering breath. 

“Are you done.” he snaps, his phrase more of a threat than a question. You nod your head and bite the inside of your cheek. As fast as lightning, he raises a hand at you as if to slap your cheek and you flinch back. But instead, he grabs you by your blouse collar and pulls your face down to his faster than you can acknowledge what’s even happening and suddenly his lips are on yours. They’re soft and warm and you find yourself melting into him. But as soon as it happened, it ended just as quickly.  

“Why can’t you just choose what you want? Just be selfish for once.” You whisper down to him after a moment of silence. He lets go of your collar and turns on his heel to the door. He tears it open and then he’s gone without another word. You feel a wetness on your cheeks, and you go up to wipe it away with the back of your hand. When did you start crying? 

Taking deep breaths, you attempt to console yourself. Was this anger or sadness? You couldn’t tell. You feel a vibration in your pocket, and you pull out your phone to see a message from Hange. 

Everything okay? 

No, everything was not okay. Everything hurt.  

Levi was great at many things, hiding his emotions being one of them. But whenever you were around him, his eyes would never lie. And you knew you saw something in them that just screamed for help. And you were not about to back down, not now and not ever again. Levi was not a pawn in someone else’s game, and you were going to free him whatever it took. After sending Hange an ‘okay for now’, you wipe your tears away again and bolt out the door to the sounds of an organ playing a death march.  

“First off, let me say thanks to everyone who has taken a moment out of their day to celebrate the unity between the Reiss and Ackerman families. We are here for the sake of ongoing prosperity and strength for generations to come. This contract is not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities. As well, we hope for not only success for both the future Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman, but also happiness and love. With that, if there are any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant looks around the room with beady eyes. 

The silence is deafening, and it feels like everything is going in slow motion but too quickly at the same time. Standing up from your hiding spot in the back, you raise your trembling hand and clear your throat. Suddenly everyone in the room is staring back at you with horrified looks, including Levi and his bride-to-be. You used to say that you could never surprise Levi, because all of your attempts at jumping out of corners and one-upping him with gifts were futile. But the shock on Levi’s face now was palpable, and deep inside you thought it was delicious. 

“Me, I object!” You pinch your lips together in a thin line, fighting the urge to curl up in a ball in embarrassment. You stare straight ahead at Levi as you make your way to the middle of the petal-filled aisle. Straightening your back, you embrace your resolve.  

“I’m sorry, who may you be?” The officiant inquires, his voice sputtering.  

“I am Faye Dresden, and I’m in love with you, Levi Ackerman.” You see him recoil a little bit, stunned at your boldness.  

“You’re not supposed to be here! Someone throw her out!” The soon-to-be bride shrieks to anyone who will help. But you take a step forward, lick your dry lips, and yell out.  

“Levi, I love you! I loved you when we were six, I love you now, and fuck! I’m going to fucking love you when we’re sixty!” A couple of burly bodyguards start making their way to you and you start to panic but you yell out anyways. “Stop being so selfless and do what you want! No one forces you to do anything, only you get to choose! Please!” A big hand grips your elbow and starts dragging you away, but you fight it anyways. His face is pained and takes a step forward towards you, but then he stops abruptly. You can tell he’s still stuck between his duties and his wishes, and it breaks your heart. You can’t help but howl in frustration as you’re pulled away through the doors.  

“BE SELFISH!” 

As they throw you out of the front doors, you trip over your own feet and fall flat on your ass into the gravel. You flip them off as they shut the doors behind them, hearing the click of a lock.  

“ASSHOLES!” You scream. You hear the crunch of footsteps on rock, and you turn to see Hange walking up behind you, somber concern etched across their face. You stand up quickly and brush off the debris, making sure to wipe your eyes once more before facing your friend.  

“Let’s go home, Faye.” They murmur to you, holding out their hand to you. Blinking back more hot tears, you take the hand and start walking back to the car with them.  

“I tried, Hange. I really did.” You whimper to them as you plop yourself into the seat. Your heart aches, reeling from your failure. Hurting from his pain. They just squeeze your hand before taking it to turn the keys in the ignition. You lean back in the chair and close your eyes while you let your tears fall, streaking down your face and onto your shirt.  

Not even 15 seconds after Hange started driving, she hits the brakes with a jolt, and you’re being choked by your seatbelt. 

“Hange?!” You blink your eyes and look at them, but they’re just staring wide-eyed through the front windshield. Following their gaze, you see a very disheveled Levi. He’s stripped of his black blazer now, white shirt and black slacks waving slightly in the wind. He’s out of breath with a determined look in his eyes. You see him mouth your name. You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and stumble out of the car. 

“What the fuck, Levi! We could have hit you!” He ignores your outburst and stomps up to you, his short stature almost comical.  

“I don’t care, I’m being selfish.” He growls at you and then pulls you back down to him, his lips smashing into yours again.

[writer-in-theory]

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Prompt: Person A’s car breaks down on the side of the road. Person B pulls over and offers a seat in their warm car while they wait for a tow. They swear they aren’t a serial killer.

Summary: Reader's car breaks down when she tries to make it through a snowstorm to her family's Christmas Eve party but luckily, a kind stranger is more than willing to spend the holiday with her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst in the beginning

Warnings: Mild Language, Food/Eating Talk, Mild Sexual Tension/Innuendos, Discussions of Christmas

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins Winter Wonderland Writing Challenge! Thanks for putting this all together, this fic was really fun to write.

(i picture this as S5 Spencer, but it works with pretty much any season)

Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It’s generally considered to be true that snow is a beautiful natural phenomenon. The unique crystalline nature of snowflakes makes it all the more appealing to those individuals attracted to the bizarre. Normally you would agree if it weren’t for the simple fact that it was making your drive considerably more difficult.

Now it was just past dinnertime and you were already an hour behind schedule. It made sense people would drive slower in the snow but still, you wished you could urge them forward. What’s a little bit of powder on the road going to do?

You got your answer soon enough when the snow flurries turned to a heavy snowstorm, completely blinding you in white streaks. No longer were the streets busy with cars as everyone made the safe choice to pull over for the night. That wasn’t an option for you though, not when your entire Christmas plans banked on making this trip in one piece tonight.

Everyone in your family had told you not to wait until Christmas Eve to make the trip. Prioritizing work over family was never a good solution, they reminded you, and yet it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Your job took up most of your time anymore, and today was no different. Despite it being Christmas Eve, they’d needed you in the office to complete a project before the deadline. It was fine, you’d reasoned because your parents’ house was only a handful of hours away. It would be late, but you could make it in on time for the clock to strike midnight on Christmas Day, you’d promised.

“Oh, fuck!” The exclamation slipped from you before you could process what was actually happening.

Your car was a good one if a little old. It had held up this long, however, and it was beginning to seem as though it was invincible. Fate was a fickle thing, however, as now you were rushing to pull over to the shoulder of the road, car puttering out to a complete stop against your will.

Turning the keys, your heart began to pick up in tempo as the engine refused to start. “No, no no,” you repeated as if someone was out there to hear you. “This isn’t happening, it’s not.”

Immediately your phone was out, dialing the nearest tow company.

This wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening, there was no way because reality wouldn’t be so cruel as to create a snowstorm bad enough to close even tow services.

“What do you mean you’re not towing tonight?” you gasped, hoping repeating it would make the man on the phone change his mind.

“This storm is too dangerous, Ma’am. We can’t have our drivers out in that,” he told you with a sigh, “we can get out there as soon as the snow stops and the streets are plowed.”

“Right, thank you,” you sighed, “Happy holidays.”

“You too, Miss. Have a safe night.”

Right, because nothing said a safe night like sitting in your dead car on the side of a practically deserted road. The storm was showing no signs of stopping any time soon, leaving you with the thought that you could be stuck out here for hours. Maybe all night, even.

So you sighed, trying to relax into your seat as much as possible.

After all, you would be there for a while.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Every survival movie shows the adrenaline-rushing, fear-inducing moments that result from life-or-death decisions. It’s easy to recall movies of men choosing their lives over limbs or sacrificial lambs saving the group, but no one ever makes a movie about how boring it can be. The stretches of time between important choices are often forgotten, the time when the victims are left with only their own minds to occupy themselves.

You were never going to look at that kind of movie the same way again. Sitting in your car amidst one of the worst snowstorms Virginia has seen in decades, all you can think about is how completely bored you are.

Of course, there are other fears beginning to edge into the back of your mind. The fact that the tow truck can’t even start heading to you until the storm is through, the fact that your car is dead leaving you with no way to heat yourself. Already your body was shivering from the chill, your hands turned a different shade and stiff from it. You’re thankful for the fact that you don’t actually know how long it would take for a person to freeze in these conditions, and you’re thankful that you hadn’t packed your winter coat into the luggage in your trunk but instead threw it into the backseat.

Still, these are fears that only grow with time. For now, a couple of hours in and only barely starting to shake in your seat, your mind is occupied by how thoroughly unoccupied it is.

True boredom isn’t often felt in today’s world. There are phones and friends, and work to keep everyone completely entertained. With more movies than anyone could ever dream of watching, more music than you ever thought possible to produce, humans have refused to allow boredom to win.

Without access to any of those lifelines, you found yourself with your feet on the dash finding ways to create your own fun. It was reminiscent of the early years, your parents having tossed you outside and told you to occupy yourself until the street lamps lit up for the night. It had begun with sitting in the driveway pouting, counting leaves as they fell from trees, and coming up with backstories for the cars that drove by. Eventually, a neighbor’s kid sat on the pavement and joined you in your story-making, and soon enough a whole group of kids was sitting outside your parents’ house creating fantastical stories for ordinary people who would never hear them.

A book you had read once suggested counting prime numbers to quickly cure boredom. It would stimulate the mind and could even keep you thinking about anything other than the dire situation you were stuck in. If you messed up, you were supposed to start over from the beginning for an added challenge.

“One, three, five, nine,” you counted, pausing at the last one. “Is nine a prime number?”

There was absolutely no one around to answer you. “No, I don’t think so. Okay, one, three, five, eleven, thirteen, fifteen- fuck!” you hissed, having gotten into the habit of counting odds rather than primes. It wasn’t even that you didn’t understand what primes were, but more so that your body was becoming so cold it was hard to focus on anything else. What was meant to be entertaining was rapidly turning into frustration.

“Okay, no primes,” you sighed, settling back into your time alone with your thoughts. You tapped against your leg, trying to figure out what tune was stuck in your head.

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” you sang lowly to yourself, the words echoing around the silent car.

When was the last time you had sung aloud? In college, it had been impossible because you’d had roommates. Sure they wouldn’t have minded, but the embarrassment kept you from ever vocalizing it. Now you lived in an apartment and the mere thought of your neighbors hearing your voice, whether it be good or bad, sent chills down your spine. Had it been when you were in elementary school, the last time you were free from the pressure of looking good for other people?

“You can plan on me,” you continued, louder and with more confidence. The snow was still falling, practically in sheets to cover up the dark winter night. “Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree.”

This would be the first Christmas you missed with your family. Every year, no matter what was going on in life, you made it back to celebrate with them. It was a time to look forward to when there were no responsibilities to worry about, if only for a day. You’d wake up early and still laugh like a child when it was time to open presents. You’d throw yourself into every Christmas tradition, wearing the best outfit you could put together. It was a day full of magic, the day when nothing mattered but you and those you were celebrating with. “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.”

You’d gotten so caught up in your thoughts, it was easy to miss the car that pulled to a stop just behind you. You’d missed it until there was a knock on your icy window, the covering crackling like glass as you rolled it down. “Can I help you?” you asked the man, already wary of anyone trying to talk to you in the middle of the night. He was cute; long curly hair sticking out from a knit winter hat, hands tucked deep into his jacket pockets to protect against the harsh wind he was standing in. Snow was already collecting on him, wisps gathering in those curls and turning his nose pink in their chill. The man was someone you would marvel at, the kind you and your friend would urge each other to flirt with even though you knew neither of you would be so bold.

It was the middle of the night on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, however. The likelihood of this man being dangerous to you was rising with every second that he still stood there, bent a little so he could peer into your car.

“I was going to ask you that,” the man chuckled, glancing over to focus instead on your car. “You looked like you could use some help.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you immediately answered, practically hearing alarm bells screaming at you to be careful. In middle school, you’d been dragged forcibly to a presentation on how to stay safe around strangers. It had seemed useless at the time, but now you couldn’t help but dredge up anything you could remember from it. Never let them take you to a secondary location, don’t scream ‘help’ because people won’t listen and if all else fails, pee on them.

Somehow none of that seemed helpful here.

“You can’t sit here in this cold,” the man insisted, looking around at the billowing tufts of snow as if that proved his point, “you’ll get hypothermia.”

“I’ll be fine, a tow truck is on the way.” Make sure they knew someone was looking for you, that someone would expect you to be here.

“This is dangerous weather to be driving in, they won’t risk their employee’s safety,” the man pointed out, and how would he know that? “You can sit in my car until the storm is over, it has a working heater.”

“I hope you know how creepy you sound,” you couldn’t help but point out, “it sure seems like you’re gonna kidnap me or something.”

And that, well that just created the funniest expression on the man’s face. His amber eyes widened, eyebrows lifting and lips parting as if that were truly the most shocking statement anyone could say to him. “I’m an FBI agent,” he countered, “I wouldn’t kidnap you.”

“Sure sounds like something a kidnapper would say.”

“They wouldn’t claim to be an FBI agent, it’s too easy to disprove,” the man corrected. “If they were to pick a figure of authority, they’d be more likely to claim highway patrol. They’re common especially this time of year, and their badges are easier to create a forgery of.”

“Hm, sounds like you know how a criminal thinks pretty well,” you said, never once letting your gaze move away from this man. The way he stood by your car, nervously bouncing and shifting on his feet at this conversation, alerted you to the fact that he likely wasn’t a sadistic killer. Still, it never hurt to be sure or to have a little fun in the meantime. “To know ‘em you’ve gotta be ‘em, right? It’s not looking good for you, agent.”

“I hunt down serial killers, why would I be one?”

“Maybe you liked what you saw. Or maybe you’re not a killer yet, but you saw me out here and thought there wasn’t a more perfect victim.”

“I did think that.” The admission was shocking, an easy way to leave you completely speechless. Never once had you imagined that he’d actually admit to thinking what an easy pick you were. “Right now, you’re an extremely high-risk victim for anyone who wants to hurt people. I thought you’d be safer with me than alone.”

The man seemed sincere, eyes still hard as if to warn you against questioning him now, but his entire stance soft. So you shrugged, grabbing your purse and removing the keys from their slot in your car. “I guess making the 7 ‘o’clock news for freezing on the side of the road isn’t on my to-do list this weekend,” you resigned, stepping out of the car and giving the man a smile. “Thank you.”

He didn’t answer with anything more than a nod, guiding you back to his car that looked as equally as old as yours, if not more. Inside, it was absolutely spotless save a few items waiting in the backseat; a dish of some food covered in aluminum foil and a box wrapped in paper covered with little blue telephone booths.

You couldn’t help the groan of relief that slipped from you when he started the car back up, a blast of hot air hitting you in the chest. The warmth melted around you, providing a protective barrier from the chill your own car hadn’t been able to defend against. Your hands pressed up against one of the vents, allowing the heat to dethaw and unstick your joints.

Locked into position, you turned to the man and asked, “So, can I see it?”

What you weren’t expecting was for the man’s cheeks to flush a brilliant red, lips opening and closing as he searched for a way to answer you. He finally decided, “Isn’t it too early for that? I just met you.”

It was your own turn to flush hot with embarrassment, feeling the blood rushing to your face immediately at the implication. “Well, that’s never stopped me before,” you teased back, “but I meant your badge. You said you were FBI, right?”

“Oh, oh! I thought you meant—I thought you were trying to—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sugge-” he stammered, thrown off of his rhythm as he fished the item out of his jacket. Your fingers brushed his as you reached for the thick badge, hearing him gasp at the touch. “You’re still cold,” the man observed, twisting in his seat to grab something from the back. You were focused on opening the folded badge in your hands, brushing still-stiff fingers over the words.

“So you’re a doctor too, huh? Pretty impressive, Spencer Reid,” you called out, eyes running over the slightly outdated picture on the ID. You wondered if he still wore those glasses, or if he’d permanently switched to the contacts he must’ve been wearing now. His hair was much longer now, curled down to his shoulders. “I guess you’ve gotta be impressive to be a supervisory special agent with the, uh...Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“It’s actually not too difficult to become an SSA,” the man—Spencer, you reminded yourself—corrected just as he was righting himself in his seat. He was holding something out for you, the box with carefully peeled back paper on the top to reveal a colorful blanket laying inside. “Here, it’ll help you warm up.”

“Oh, I can’t use that, it’s your present for someone.” With the food and present in the back, it was clear Spencer was heading somewhere tonight. He had plans and instead he was here with you, making sure you were safe in this snow. It felt wrong to accept anything more from him, especially this brightly colored blanket clearly picked out for someone specific in mind.

“Trust me, she’d want you to have it,” Spencer reassured you. “She’ll be excited enough when she hears this story.” So with his insistence, you pulled the blanket from the box and wrapped it around you. Despite the bright splashes of color and shimmer of sparkles coating it, the blanket was perfect. It was just heavy enough to provide comfort without being stifling, and the material was warm without a scratchy texture.

“So how old’s your sister?” you asked after lapsing into a few minutes of silence.

“My who?” Spencer shot back, the same deer-in-the-headlights look returning to his face.

“Oh, I thought—I’m sorry, I assumed with the blanket and everything, you were going home to your family for Christmas,” you rushed out, trying to fix a situation you hoped hadn’t cracked too badly.

You were sure it had when Spencer’s face began to fall. His eyes shifted down to focus on the way his hands fiddled with themselves in his lap, the bits of hair escaping his hat falling forward into his face. It was a stupid thing to bring up, wasn’t it? Not everyone had a family they could celebrate the holiday with, sometimes they were left alone on days when everyone else got to be with their loved ones. It was obvious you’d hit a sore spot until Spencer’s head tilted back up to reveal an entirely different expression on his face.

It could only be described as peace, a fond look softening his honeyed eyes and a small smile threatening to pull his lips upwards. “I suppose I am, in a way,” he answered, turning his head to look at you and revealing his full smile at the thought. “My team at the BAU is having a holiday party tonight. I never really celebrated holidays until I joined the team.”

“Tell me about them?” Spencer gave you a sideways look, expression unsure. “C’mon, I’m not a serial killer or anything,” you teased.

“How do I know that? I’m pretty sure you don’t have an FBI badge to show off.”

“Hm, pinkie promise?”

For a cute joke, you weren’t expecting such a reaction. Spencer almost visibly cringed, eyes looking around at anything except your face. “Oh, I don’t—I don’t really...” he tried to explain, gesturing wildly in the air with his hands.

“No worries, I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” you reassured him, not wanting to push any boundaries he wasn’t ready to move. “So? I can tell you about my family first.”

“Is that where you were headed?”

“Yeah, my family lives a few hours away. I don’t see them much anymore because work keeps me so busy. It’s really only on the holidays anymore.” Sometimes it felt like you couldn’t feel too upset about it, knowing it had been your choice to prioritize work. What you did was so important to you though, that it could be hard to pull yourself away from it.

“It’s just my mom and me, but she lives out in Las Vegas,” Spencer explained in return. Though he seemed upset about it, the ghost of something much more serious routed deep in his eyes, there was still a sentimental smile on his lips. “I also don’t see her much because of work. I could be called to work at any time so I don’t make trips out there as often as I should.”

“I’m sure she understands.”

“Does your family?” he asked, his eyes full of the same regret you often felt when you thought of your family. You didn’t even need to answer; the two of you already knew.

The quiet that fell over you was peaceful. The only sounds were from the wind whistling through the air and the occasional crunch of snow settling on the ground. You should’ve been on your toes, careful while you sat in this stranger’s car with no way to call for help. Instead, all you felt was a calm that hadn’t been present in a long time. This man understood you in a way you hadn’t expected, and it was relieving.

“Hotch is our unit chief,” Spencer broke the silence, causing you to turn your head to face him. He was looking forward, a smile already pulling at his lips at the mention of his family. “He’s the leader so he has to be stern sometimes, but he’s one of the kindest people you’d ever meet. He’s protective of all of us, he’s the closest thing to a dad I have. Same as Rossi, he created our unit and he’s still here showing all of us how this works. He puts on a tough act but he’d do anything for each of us.”

“They sound amazing.” It was the honest truth. Though you loved your job and the people in it, you couldn’t exactly say you saw them as family. How lucky to love your coworkers so much you could call them a father figure, even brothers and sisters?

“They are,” Spencer admits, looking over at you for the first time since mentioning his family. You’re not sure if it’s the family talk or the snow, but his eyes are practically sparkling in the overhead light of the car. “Derek and Penelope are too. Derek has been through so much but he’s still funny and kind. He makes a lot of jokes and can be absolutely infuriating sometimes, but he’s always there for his friends. I can always count on him. Penelope, too, is always there. She’s like the sunshine, no matter what her presence is enough to make me smile. She’s the happiness, the light in what we do.”

“Is she the one this was for?” You asked, picking up the corner of the blanket still wrapped around your body.

“Yeah, she loves bright colors. She dresses like that too, every single day. I don’t know how she does it. She believes in the good of the world.”

“You say that like you don’t.” It wasn’t hard to see the good of the world during the holiday season. Christmas miracles and joy spread for each holiday celebrated, sometimes you wondered if this was the true human spirit defined.

“Sometimes I do. I try to, at least. It seems impossible sometimes when you see everything that we do,” Spencer explained honestly, shrugging his shoulders. “What about you? Do you think people are inherently good?”

“Well, after tonight I certainly do. A complete stranger became my knight in shining armor.”

“You know, shining armor in those days actually reflects the fact that the knight wouldn’t have done much in battle.”

“Take the compliment, Spencer,” you shot back, a playful smile on your face. The man was clearly brilliant, being able to recall interesting points about the most out-there topics. He hadn’t told you, but it didn’t take a genius to see how smart he was.

“Emily says the same thing sometimes, that I’m too humble,” Spencer continued telling you about his team, more comfortable now that he was already part-way through it. “She gets me in a way the others don’t. I think she sees similar flaws in us because she always knows how to handle me at my worst. Then there’s JJ, who sometimes feels like my opposite. She was the first friend I had in the BAU, I’m the godfather to her son. We’ve seen each other through just about everything.”

“Your team really does sound like the perfect family.”

“I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

From everything you’d ever heard about government jobs, it surprised you that they all sounded so close. Most media typically depicted them as being power-hungry, all ready to step on each others’ toes to get to the top. Instead, this was SSA Dr. Spencer Reid finding the absolutely perfect rainbow blanket for his teammate’s Secret Santa gift. This was Spencer, practically beaming while talking about the team members he loved so dearly.

From the way he described them, absolutely none of them sounded like the typical FBI agents shown in media. Honestly, he didn’t either. You never would have guessed that this man was in law enforcement, maybe academia instead. “So why the FBI? You can do so much with a doctorate, how’d you pick this?” you asked curiously, wondering how he could have found this job. Spencer looked young, and you’d always thought of agents as being older, coming into the job after they’d already had successful careers.

“How’d you know it’s a doctorate? Most people assume I’m the other kind of doctor.”

“Well, the other kind of doctor would’ve known after that long in the cold, my system technically shouldn’t have been shocked with intense heat right away,” you laughed, waving off his concerned expression. It would be fine after just a couple of hours, and you should’ve known better as well. “I’m in social work, I end up working with a lot of hospital staff. You pick up a thing or two from hearing them talk.”

“What do you do in social work?” It was Spencer’s turn to look interested, his entire body turning to face you now. His head tilted to the side slightly,

“I mainly work with the children that are surrendered to hospitals and fire departments,” you explained. “That’s why it’s hard for me to step away from my work sometimes, it feels like I’d be letting one of them down.”

“I know how that feels. If you keep working, you can save one more.”

“Exactly.” Spencer understood you in a way you’d been desperate for. Your friends and family all loved you dearly but didn’t always understand the commitment you held to your work or the way you were ready to drop just about anything for the work. Spencer did, in the way he saved people nearly every day with his work in the FBI.

“That’s how I picked the FBI. I wanted to help people, but I couldn’t seem to find the right way to do it. Someone from the BAU came to guest speak at my university, and I knew then this is what I’m meant to do.”

It was easy talking to Spencer. You sat safely in his car, watching the way the snow flew furiously outside. Never once would you have guessed this was how you would spend your Christmas Eve, but you could think of much worse ways. Spencer was kind enough to stop for you, and he was so different from anyone else you’d ever met. You wanted more time to talk to him, to get to know more about him beyond how he felt about his family and the world.

“Thank you for waiting with me, by the way. You don’t have to miss out on your Christmas Eve plans just because I am,” you told him gently, body shifting to sit closer to his side of the car.

“I want to be here,” Spencer tried to reassure you, voice matching your soft intensity. His eyes never left your face, as if he were trying to study it to recreate it in a drawing later.

“You want to be spending your Christmas Eve stuck in your car in a snowstorm with a perfect stranger?”

“It sounds strange...but yes.”

It didn’t sound strange at all, because you were thinking the same thing. A night with Spencer sounded absolutely wondrous. Though you would miss the time with your family, it would all be worth it because you got to meet him.

“Well then,” you turned to the dash to watch the clock tick over to midnight, “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The air was completely full, so much that you wondered if there was enough left for you to breathe in. Not wanting to risk it, you found yourself holding your breath in your chest. The two of you were leaning in, Spencer’s amber eyes focused intently on your lips. Your own gaze drifted down from his eyes to his button nose, and finally to those full lips still a deeper shade from the chill.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, close enough to practically whisper the words against your lips.

“Too bad we don’t have any mistletoe,” you joked nervously, hands shaking a little in your lap.

“I do, actually,” Spencer admitted, pulling the sprig from his coat pocket. “JJ asked me to bring it. I don’t know what she was planning to do with it.”

“I know what I’m planning to do with it,” you answered, your fingers lacing with his to cover the mistletoe between your palms. You closed the distance, and Spencer’s lips were hot against yours. He was stunned at first but leaned in, his free hand coming up to hold the side of your face.

It was beautiful and magical, the way the two of you fit together so perfectly. The moment wasn’t long but felt like a lifetime, and as the two of you parted all you could think was that his lips felt like home.

“What are you planning on doing with it?” Spencer asked innocently, cheeks tinged pink from reasons other than the cold.

You couldn’t help but let out a bright laugh, shaking your head and moving your hands to cup either side of his face. “I’ll just have to keep doing it until you figure it out, Doctor,” you teased back, leaning forward to press another kiss to his lips. Your arms moved, allowing your hands to tangle in his hair and tug just the slightest bit, enough to elicit a soft noise from Spencer.

And when the two of you pulled back, he was gazing at you as if you were the sun. It was an intense gaze and you fought not to shrink under it, never having thought someone could look at you with that much passion.

“Did you figure it out, Doc?” you asked, voice soft and shaking from your breathlessness.

“If I say no, will you kiss me again?” You laughed again, and this time Spencer joined in. The sound was beautiful, a joyous and weightless sound that run through the car. It settled deep in your chest and sprouted something warm and pure within it. You wanted to hear that sound again, as many times as you could. “This might sound bad, but I’m glad your car broke down.”

“Honestly, me too,” you admitted finally. You wanted the chance to talk to Spencer more, even if it meant being stuck in his car for the rest of the night.

So the two of you sat and talked. It was simpler than you could have ever expected; just two people who’d met that night sitting in a car and talking about their lives. You told him about your family’s Christmas traditions, and Spencer told you about all of the missed holiday meals the team had made together. In the same way you wanted to get to know Spencer, you ached to tell him all about you so he felt like he knew you too.

“There was one year my mom was convinced we’d celebrate Christmas right,” Spencer was telling you, each of you curled up on the edges of your seats so you could share the blanket. It was easy to picture the two of you curled up like this on a couch, sitting together in front of a movie neither of you was watching. You’d already know these basic things about each other, instead talking about how your days were and where you saw yourself in the next decade. “We had our tree up and we decorated it with anything we could find. We didn’t really have ornaments so we put silverware and bookmarks up instead.”

“Bookmarks? That’s so fun.” It was so different from what the typical celebration was that you found yourself smiling at the image of little Spencer collecting all of his favorite bookmarks from where their homes within the pages of stories.

“It really was. I still put a bookmark on the tree every year, for her,” Spencer admitted. “That Christmas Eve was also the first time she taught me how to cook a meal. We made homemade mac ‘n’ cheese together, and it was so simple but it’s still my favorite dish.”

“Is that what’s in the backseat?” you asked, feeling the light hunger cramps now that the topic of food was brought up. Dinner had become an afterthought while you rushed out of work to hit the road and now well past midnight, you were regretting that decision.

“It is. Are you hungry? We might as well eat some of it,” Spencer offered, already reaching around and grabbing the dish before you could answer. “I don’t have utensils though.”

“Oh, I do! Hold on,” you told him, practically leaping out of his car to sprint back to yours before he could protest. It took you a minute tops to dig through your dashboard, throwing junk into your passenger seat until you found the bag of plastic utensils you kept in your car, in case of emergencies.

“I came prepared for this exact moment,” you laughed, handing him a spoon.

“You keep plastic spoons in your car?”

“Of course I do,” you answered immediately, settling back into your seat as Spencer set the dish of macaroni in the space between you two.

The first bite made you question whether this was all a dream. There was no way mac ‘n’ cheese actually tasted like that; so creamy and rich. It was well beyond the Kraft you made regularly. “Oh, my God,” you groaned, tilting your head back a little as though to savor the taste.

“It’s really simple, I think I hyped it up too much.” Spencer’s head was tipped down, strands of hair falling down into it. Even from his profile though, you could see the tension in his face as if he were bracing for the impact of a complaint. “I can put it away.”

“Don’t you dare. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you answered back, loving the way your words made Spencer’s whole face light up. The way he was so expressive was absolutely adorable.

“Really?”

“Spencer, this is absolutely sinful. The things I’d do to have this all the time.”

“And what would you do?” Spencer dared, the teasing smirk surprising you enough to stop your hand’s movement, keeping the edge of the spoon still rested upside-down on your lower lip. The tip of your tongue reached out, running over the edge of it as you considered his question.

“I don’t know, guess you’ll have to find out later,” you said right back, determined not to make this too easy on him, “because right now, I have mac ’n’ cheese to eat.”

“Is it really that good?” It wasn’t hard to fall in love with Spencer’s laugh. It sounded so free, a sharp start at the beginning as if he’d tried to hold it in but failed miserably.

“I have no words for how good this tastes right now,” you told him, “I’m just sorry your team doesn’t get to experience it.”

“I think you’re enjoying it more than they would’ve.” Though he was teasing you, Spencer’s own face lit up every time he took a bite of food. It was a comforting scene, the two of you curled up under the same blanket sharing a dish of warm American comfort food.

Sitting in a warm car, bundled up in a soft blanket with a full stomach, it was impossible not to grow tired. You yawned, trying to force your eyes to stay open but allowing your body to curl up against Spencer over the center console.

“You can go to sleep,” Spencer told you softly, immediately wrapping his arm around you the best he could. He wasn’t helping your efforts but rather lulling you closer to sleep as he made you feel more comfortable.

“No, no, I’m awake,” you slurred. Spencer was there to make sure you were safe and not alone on Christmas, how could you fall asleep on him? Still, you’d been up extremely early for work and hadn’t gotten to sleep yet that night.

“It’s been a long night, you should rest. I’ll wake you up in an hour,” Spencer promised.

“And you won’t kidnap me?” You asked, looking up and smiling at the amused expression on Spencer’s face.

“I thought we were past that.”

“That’s not a no.”

“No, Y/N, I won’t kidnap you.”

“Okay, just checking,” you laughed before letting out another yawn. It was easy to fall asleep against Spencer, and soon you were dreaming of future Christmases spent with this stranger who’d saved you.

When you woke up again, it was clear that it hadn’t just been an hour.

The snow had long since stopped falling, leaving a peaceful scene outside. The white flakes clung to everything, blanketing the world in white. The sun was just beginning to peek out above the skyline, turning the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange.

You were leaning against someone, a warmth that made you tuck in closer to their chest. The sharp dig of the shift stick in your abdomen reminded you of where you were, causing you to part from Spencer in favor of sitting up fully. “You let me sleep.”

“You looked so peaceful,” Spencer admitted softly, as though there was still a risk of waking you up.

“I drool in my sleep.”

“Only a little.” There was such a fondness in his expression, the kind that made you wonder if the two of you had known each other for longer than just the night.

“Well, thank you,” you said again, stretching as best you could from inside the car to shake off the residual sleepiness. There’d likely be some stiffness later that came with sleeping in a car, but it would be worth it. “I’m sure you were bored with me asleep.”

“The towing company called,” Spencer told you, “they’ll be here any minute.”

“Is it bad I don’t want them to come?” you asked, scared of the answer. This was when Spencer would leave, and you’d never see him again. It would be a night you tell stories about for months, constantly telling your friends about the guy who saved you and then disappeared, the one who got away.

Instead, Spencer surprised you once more.

“No, I don’t want this to be over either.”

He wanted to keep seeing you too. Lightness filled your chest, the kind that bubbled up and leaked out in a bright smile. No one would ever believe you when you told this story. How would the team take it when Spencer explained to them why he missed their party? You tried to picture each of their faces, the kind of teasing that his friends were sure to give him. You found yourself wanting to be there, wanting to meet the people he called his family.

Eventually, you would, but until then you settled for something much simpler.

“It doesn’t have to be. We could always get a Christmas breakfast together. My treat, for saving me and everything.”

“I’d love that.”

So the two of you waited for the tow truck together, knowing that when it finally came you still wouldn’t split. You’d find the one diner that was open on Christmas morning, and the two of you would laugh over pancakes and coffee. The two of you would be exhausted from a long night but still, you’d talk and laugh with so much energy because you’d found each other.

And when it was over and it was time to part, Spencer would press that sprig of mistletoe into your palm and you would smile like a giddy child the whole drive home.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

General Taglist:

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @just-arandomwriter @matthewgraygublerlover @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora @reidsbookclub @alexontheinternet

[redsabres]

☽Remember Our Eclipse☾ • prologue

Moon Knight x Reader, Friends to Enemies to Lovers

• one

Based on the poem "A Letter To The Sun From The Dark Side of The Moon" by Ranata Suzuki

Chapter Spotify Playlist

Summary: You and Marc did everything together, even dying in the desert and becoming avatars for gods that hate each other.

Warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence

Words: 2,547 (following chapters will be longer ;))

AN: not to flex but I wrote most of this before episode four came out, so maybe I should become a fortune teller.

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The headlights of the wrangler bobbed up and down as it sprang across the northern Sudanese dunes, A Man Without Love playing softly on the radio. It was supposed to be a normal mission – at least, as normal as it could be when you were a bad person being paid to do worse things for the worst people. However, nobody with a properly functioning moral compass becomes a bounty hunter. That's why you all ended up here, wasn't it?

You swallowed the question down with a deep gulp. Sprawled across the back seat of the wrangler, your hands fidgeted nervously with the various weapons on your waistband, a nervous habit you picked up from your time in special operations with Marc. He softly chuckled from the passenger seat, noticing your actions in the reflection of the rearview mirror. This made Bushman – your somewhat pain in the ass colleague, roll his eyes.

"This is why I don't let both of you sit in the back seat." He grumbled.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, kicking the back of the driver's seat. This just made Marc laugh harder.

While the three of you laughed – although Bushman would definitely deny he ever so much as chuckled, you glanced at the rearview mirror, only to see Marc's eyes already trained onto your form. He gave you a soft smile, which you heartfeltly returned. The song faded into the background as the two of you were momentarily lost in each other, hearing nothing but your hearts beating in tune with one another.

"Focus, you two," Bushman glared at the both of you, "Save the lovey-dovey shit for the hotel."

You kicked his seat again.

"Hey, don't anger the driver." He warned, frowning at you in the rearview mirror.

You stuck out your tongue in response.

"And what? You'll crash into a pillowy sand dune? How terrifying." You joked, leaning to lay down across the back seat.

Suddenly, Bushman stopped the car – as close to a sudden stop as he could get considering the terrain, causing you to slide forward. For a moment, you considered he just slammed the brakes to prove a point, however, this was dismissed when he left the car and walked to the trunk.

"Hurry up, assholes!" He scolded, despite the fact that he had barely given you or Marc a warning to leave the vehicle, "Mission site is six hundred yards east." Bushman gestured to a map he had already rolled out in the trunk. Circled in bold, red ink, was a site labeled 'CAMP FOUR' in large letters. He continued as you and Marc prepped your gear, "We're gonna be heading towards a dig site where they've allegedly unearthed an ancient map showing where some old Pharoah is buried." Stated Bushman as he set up the communication equipment.

This piqued your interest. Regularly, the bounty was a living person, not an already dead one. You found this thrilling. Marc, however, had a different take.

"So, what? We get to play Indiana Jones for some rich fuck?" The words rolled off his tongue as his upper lip pulled into a slight snarl. You had to try not to giggle while Bushman smiled mischievously.

The larger man turned to Marc, "Precisely."

"Now, continuing with the details of our mission. The site is run by four archaeologists. There may be a few others, but they're all of no concern. There are two guard stations," Bushman began gesturing to areas on the map again, "One on the southwest end, and one on the north. They should be easy to take out." You and Marc nodded.

Bushman gestured to you, saying your name.

"You'll infiltrate the archaeologist's tent while Marc and I handle the guards. Grab the map, get out. Should be a clean run."

You nodded at Bushman, Marc mirroring your actions.

"Alright then," he continued, "The two of us will go along the southern path, "he gestured to a blue line drawn on the map, "and you'll go along the northern path." Bushman pointed to a purple line on the map. "We will give you a signal when the guards are down. Be ready."

"Affirmative. Will await signal." You responded, the formal wording a once thought forgotten habit from your days with Marc in special operations.

Bushman turned to leave, gesturing for Marc to follow. Before turning to leave, Marc glanced at you. He softly raised his hand to your face, gently caressing your cheek. Resting his forehead upon yours, he exhaled a deep sigh.

"Be safe." He said, barely above a whisper.

"No need to worry." You reassured him, softly smiling before turning to head down your separate paths.

"Hurry up, Spector!" You heard Bushman call from somewhere along his trail.

Chuckling, you continued on.

You waited in position just over the crest of a sand dune, awaiting the signal from Bushman and Marc. The two men were taking their sweet time, as per usual. But it was just supposed to be a few guards, right? Something felt off. Against better judgment, you pushed into the camp without the signal. After easily slipping past the guards, you silently slid under the white tarp wall of the tent.

It was completely dark, except for a lone LED lantern hanging from the central support. Sprawled out through the whole tent were various work areas, littered with papers and artifacts. Finding the map in this mess would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. You began your search anyways, the nagging feeling of something wrong still hanging at the back of your mind.

Suddenly, a light clicked on from the other side of the tent. You panicked, darting for the large desk near the central work area of the tent. Soft footsteps padded toward you, before walking around the desk and to the other side of the tent. You let out a soft breath as the footsteps padded back to their side of the tent, the quiet click of the light turning back off soon following.

You were halfway through a sigh of relief when bullets began tearing through the tent. Screams erupted into your surroundings as you pushed yourself deeper into the kneehole of the metal desk, praying none of the bullets would hit you. Your shuffling under the desk knocked it around considerably, as a drawer slid out of its place while you were rushing to take shelter. While bullets rained around you, an intricately carved, lapis lazuli scarab caught your eye. Without a second thought, you quickly reached out and stuffed it into your boot.

The bullets stopped, and all was still. Even you remained motionless under the desk. Shortly after, Bushman came waltzing in, eyes scanning the tent. You huffed, pulling up from the desk, anger painting your features.

"Bush, you asshole!" You screamed, "You could have killed me!"

The large man looked surprised to see you for a moment, but continued to let out a dark chuckle. "That's what you get for not waiting for the signal, sweetheart "

You just stared at him, lip raised. The thought of what Bushman had just done without so much as batting an eye made you sick to your stomach. You couldn't handle it anymore; the sight of the bullet holes combined with the occasional splatter of blood made bile rise into your throat. You turned to leave, tearing through the already shredded tarp. You stopped, upon noticing, turned back to Bushman.

"Where's Marc?" You asked, accusation littering your tone.

Bushman shrugged, "Said he had a headache. Went back to go sit in the wrangler."

Something still felt off, but you nodded, accepting his answer.

"You find the map?" Said Bushman, gesturing to the area around the two of you.

"Maybe I could have, if someone wasn't trying to turn me into a slice of swiss cheese!" You continued to shout at him, gesturing to the bullet holes dotting your surroundings. Bushman rolled his eyes. You huffed, shaking your head at your colleague.

"Fine. You can find the map then, I'll be outside."

Bushman looked like he was going to stop you, fingers twitching at his sides. However, once it was clear you were exiting on the side you came in, away from the camp, he seemed to calm.

The walk back to the wrangler was quiet. About halfway through, Bushman snuck up on you.

"Jesus man, did nobody ever tell you to not sneak up on people when they're walking alone at night?" You scolded, almost pulling a gun on him in surprise. He let out an amused huff in response. You decided not to think anything of it, chalking your colleagues behavior up to the strangeness of the overall mission.

Soon enough, the two of you were back at the wrangler, but something still felt off. Despite allegedly being inhabited by Marc, none of the lights were on. You silently prayed it was because Marc had a headache and wanted to rest, like Bushman said. Against your better judgment, you went to open the car door.

Bushman let out a deep, maniacal chuckle from behind. You went to look back at him, giving him a questioning glance. However, you were met with one of his giant hands as he slammed your head into the car door with a metallic thunk.

You were on the ground somewhere. You wanted to get up, scan your surroundings and calculate a way of survival. However, it was almost as if something was holding you in place. You barely managed to open your eyes, only to immediately close them. Everything around you was white. Above, the sun still beat down, feverishly so. You managed to turn onto your side, an attempt to escape the heat caused by your back being on the warm ground.

Suddenly, a deep, booming voice spoke.

"Get up."

You spun around in a sitting position, trying to find who, or rather what, was calling out to you, however, the blazing sun and white surroundings weren't doing you any favors.

"Get. Up."

The voice spoke again, this time more stern.

Somehow, you rose to your feet.

That was a mistake. Every inch of your body felt as if it were set aflame, your head feeling as if a large, molten stick were prodding it.

"Come, my child." The deep, commanding voice coaxed you.

"Nng... Everything hurts." You stated, stumbling toward the voice.

"Yes," the voice spoke. By now, you were close to seeing what it belonged to. The voice softly spoke your name, "You are dying."

No... Your steps faltered, causing you to trip.

"I don't want to die." You spoke weakly from the floor.

"If you are to be reborn, you must suffer through pain," the voice stated, it sounded much closer now, "It is the way of things, my child."

Propping yourself up onto your elbows, you were finally able to see what you were speaking to.

On an intricately carved stone throne sat a humanoid being with the head of a falcon, clothed in a loose-fitting white robe with long sleeves, adorned with many pieces of golden jewelry. The scorching sun settled behind the being's head, almost appearing as if its golden blaze was a halo.

You pulled yourself to your feet, pain forgotten in favor of the godly being in front of you. Stopping a few feet away from the base of their throne, you looked at the being, awaiting their next words.

"In exchange for your life," the being stated, your head perking up at the chance of not dying, "you will become an Eye of Ra. You will enact vengeance on my behalf, ensuring the balance between light and dark. If you choose to accept, you will be blessed with godly power and take a role as my avatar."

You nodded, mulling over the god's words. In full honestly, you had very little clue what exactly the god spoke of. However, you were in no place to bargain.

"Fine," you panted, the heat of the sun unwavering, "I accept your offer."

"Good." The god spoke, reaching out a hand to shake. You returned the gesture, sealing your hands together. You immediately felt a rush of power at the god's touch, the burning sun fading into a light warmth.

Suddenly, the white abruptly faded, leaving you alone in the desert. Although the sun was gone, your hand still burned. On the top of your left hand, thin, fresh scars now adorned your flesh, forming an eye of Ra. You clutched the scarified hand to your chest, careful not to irritate the fresh scars.

"Get moving, or the night will swallow you alive." Ra spoke, startling you.

You shot up, frantically looking around for any sign of the god. However, he was nowhere to be found.

"Where will I go?" You asked.

The god paused, as if thinking for a moment. Finally, he responded.

"We will start by atoning for your wrongdoings." The god stated cryptically.

"That's gonna take a while..."

"I heard that," he scolded, "Now come, experience your first taste of godly power."

To you, godly power would have been something more out of a children’s storybook, like shooting lighting out of the palms of your hands. To Ra, however, godly power was a reality, and that reality was making you fly around in a decadent suit, punching whoever he deemed a “threat to the balance between light and dark”, whatever that meant.

Through your many days together, you slowly learned of Ra's relationship with the other gods, how many respected him – with the exception of one: Khonshu. Apparently, the two gods have hated each other since their respective creations, a destiny determined by their control of opposing forces. You found it a bit childish, but would never admit that to Ra.

You and your god had highs and lows. At times, you adored being gifted with such power, but at others, it was like a weight that threatened to drag you down to inescapable depths. However, the worst night was easily the first. After being sent to bury those that Bushman murdered at the dig site,

you spent the entire night searching for Marc. You wouldn't be surprised if you flew over the entirety of the Sahara ten times that night. It was hell, barely having a grip on your newfound power. You would fly for a mile, then lose focus and drop from the sky. Each time you hit the ground, Ra was there to heal you. The cycle repeated many times that night, each fall worse than the last.

Eventually, Ra couldn't bear it anymore. He took control of your body, forcing you to land in a small cave filled with various statues of his fellow deities. In the front of the cave, where the sunlight would filter in, stood a tall statue of Ra, holding an ankh in one hand and a scepter in the other. On the other end of the cave, shrouded in darkness, stood a statue of Khonshu, missing its telltale cape.

"To my dearest love, my brilliant Sun,

The world has decided we can no longer be one

So you take the day and I’ll take the night

You with your happy glow, me with my cold & lonely light"

A Letter To The Sun From The Dark Side of The Moon by Ranata Suzuki

[harlcy]

☾  ⸻  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒  !

tw:  mostly  dives  a  bit  into  her  history  with  addiction  &  loss  of  her  father,  but  also  briefly  touches  on  the  relationship  with  her  abusive  ex. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋:  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚊𝚛𝚎  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎'𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜  𝚘𝚗  𝚗𝚎𝚠  𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜?  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚒𝚝  𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖  𝚘𝚛  𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?

it  does  a  little  of  both,  truthfully.  obviously,  there’s  a  very  strong  fear  of  failure,  given  her  past  experience  with  relapsing,  but  she  hasn’t  lost  all  of  her  hope.  not  yet,  anyway,  so  there’s  some  excitement  there,  too.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍:  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕  𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝  𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎?  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚌𝚊𝚗  𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚘𝚠𝚗  𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚢?

harley  does  believe  she  can  change  her  own  destiny,  absolutely,  and  she  isn’t  the  biggest  believer  in  fate.  mainly  because  she  doesn’t  like  the  idea  of  being  fated  to  do,  be,  like,  or  dislike  anything.  she’s  in  control  of  her  own  self,  her  own  actions.  no  one  else.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇  𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐒:  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎  𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜?  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝  𝚘𝚛  𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝  /  𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌?

since  her  ex  (  and  with  her  anxiety  ),  trusting  her  gut  is  nearly  impossible  given  that  it’s  always  yelling  abort,  abort!  but  she  also  doesn’t  trust  herself  as  a  whole,  especially  in  terms  of  judging  one’s  character.  for  the  most  part,  she  tries  to  use  her  head  to  make  decisions,  but  her  heart  often  takes  the  driver  seat  despite  it.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒:  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎  𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕  /  𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜  𝚒𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎?  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚝  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?

she  does!  i  imagine  she’s  always  had  a  wonderful  relationship  with  her  parents,  which  is  exactly  why  her  father’s  passing  hit  her  as  hard  as  it  did.  she’s  always  been  a  momma’s  girl,  though,  and  despite  being  a  grown  ass  woman  now,  there  are  many  times  where  she  seeks  comfort  within  the  arms  of  her  mother.  i  feel  like  harley  is  also  really  open  with  her  family  as  a  whole,  but  her  mother  is  always  the  first  person  she  reaches  out  to  on  bad  days  like  please,  just  tell  me  it’ll  be  okay  before  she  reaches  out  to  her  sponsor  because  her  mother  &  that  comfort  provided  impacts  harley  drastically.  also,  the  fear  of  disappointing  her  mother  probably  weighs  heavily  on  her,  too,  despite  already  feeling  like  one.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑:  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑  𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎  𝚏𝚘𝚛  𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢?  𝚠𝚑𝚢  𝚒𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜?

depends  the  authority.  in  terms  of  those  within  any  position  of  law  enforcement  ..  lol  yeah,  it’s  almost  non-existent.  mainly  because,  sticking  to  the  sad  reality,  i  don’t  feel  like  they  were  any  help  during  the  time  she  finally  tried  to  leave  her  ex?  if  it’s  any  other  type  of  authority,  like  just  a  senior  in  the  workforce,  a  teacher,  etc.,  the  respect  she  shows  is  always  what  she  hopes  to  return.  it’s  important  to  note  that  once  someone  loses  her  respect,  however,  she  can  be  the  most  heartless  person  you’ve  ever  met. 

and  she  always  respects  her  mother.  maybe  not  so  much  during  her  time  as  an  addict,  but  nothing  she  ever  did  to  her  family  during  those  years  ever  came  from  a  place  of  malice. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓:  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚊𝚛𝚎  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎'𝚜  𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚜  /  𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚜?  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕  𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎  𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢?

primarily,  she  tries  to  live  by  the  golden  rule  of  do  onto  others  as  you  would  like  them  to  do  onto  you.  it’s  the  energy  she  gives  anyone  and  everyone  the  first  go  around  and  she  is  really  strict  with  herself  about  that.  she’s  also  really  strict  with  herself  about  the  type  of  situations  she  finds  herself  in  or  lets  herself  be  part  of,  but  she’ll  go  against  her  morals  &  code  of  ethics  for  certain  people  (  like  her  family  )  ..  though  maybe  saying  that  she’d  go  against  them  is  wrong?  especially  because  protecting  her  family  and  doing  right  by  them  in  whatever  way  necessary  is  part  of  her  ethics?  hm.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋  𝐎𝐅  𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄:  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕  /  𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎  𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜  𝚘𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕𝚜?

it  depends  the  setback  and  which  goal.  she’s  always  been  hard  on  herself  and  still  most  certainly  is,  but  anything  in  relation  to  her  sobriety,  she’s  extra  hard  on  herself.  not  quite  hard  enough  to  fall  off  or  ruin  her  progress,  but  close  enough  to  be  worrisome  to  her.  she’s  also  really  hard  on  herself  if  the  goal  affects  her  family  in  any  way  (  e.g.,  she  doesn’t  get  ahead  of  something  on  the  marketing  side  of  things  and  it  stains  the  resort,  even  if  only  with  one  measly  article  ),  but  after  dealing  with  her  feelings,  she  always  hits  the  ground  running  to  get  herself  back  on  track.

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄:  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍  𝚒𝚝  𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢  𝚝𝚘  𝚋𝚎  𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕  𝚒𝚗  𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕  𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜?

no.  as  an  infj  personality  type,  her  emotions  tend  to  control  her  more  than  the  other  way  around.  when  she’s  got  her  business  hat  on  is  the  only  time  she  does  remotely  well  at  leaving  her  emotions  out  of  anything  ..  for  the  most  part.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃  𝐌𝐀𝐍:  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗  𝚒𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚝𝚘  𝚗𝚎𝚠  𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜?  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢  𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔  𝚏𝚘𝚛  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖  𝚘𝚛  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢  𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛  𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚠𝚊𝚢?

her  desire  to  learn  certainly  keeps  harley’s  eyes  open  for  anything  and  everything  that  can  potentially  offer  her  new  knowledge  /  experience,  but  she  doesn’t  always  take  everything  that  comes  her  way.  if  it’s  something  that’ll  take  her  away  from  her  family,  she’ll  always  turn  it  down  ---  something  that’s  been  true  since  forever.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇:  𝚒𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚒𝚗  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎'𝚜  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍  𝚋𝚎  𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚐𝚘  𝚘𝚏?

probably  the  guilt  she  feels  about  her  past  choices,  about  not  asking  for  help  sooner,  about  not  recognizing  the  signs,  about  not  being  strong  enough,  about  not  being  there  for  her  mother  when  her  father  passed.  and  the  hatred  she  feels  towards  herself  for  all  of  that,  too.

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄:  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎  𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜?  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎  𝚊𝚛𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢?  𝚑𝚊𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜  𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖  𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘  𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍  /  𝚋𝚊𝚍  𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜  𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝  𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?

she’s  good  at  making  plans,  especially  in  terms  of  business  ones.  she  can  be  extremely  impulsive.  as  i  said  before,  her  emotions  have  a  habit  of  controlling  her  rather  than  the  other  way  around,  so  her  feet  are  often  moving  well  before  her  brain  can  catch  up  (  depending  the  situation  ).  this  has,  obviously,  gotten  her  into  both  good  and  bad  situations  and,  in  the  past,  she  wasn’t  always  the  greatest  at  dealing  with  them,  but  she’s  getting  better!

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋:  𝚒𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚝𝚘  𝚊𝚗𝚢  𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜?  𝚒𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍  𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢  𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖  𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝?

whereas  she  can  certainly  be  described  as  a  workaholic,  she  isn’t  addicted  to  any  substances.  not  anymore,  anyway.  she’s  been  sober  five  years  (  will  be  six  in  october  )  and  her  family  is  the  reason  she  quit  ..  both  times.  harley  still  isn’t  to  the  point  to  where  she’s  staying  sober  for  herself  yet,  but  she’s  also  finally  realized  that  that’s  okay.  the  reason  isn’t  that  important,  not  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things,  and  it  certainly  doesn’t  dictate  how  deserving  she  is  of  sobriety.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑:  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝  𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢  𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎'𝚜  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎?  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝  𝚘𝚛  𝚊𝚛𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍  𝚒𝚝  𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍?

there  are  two  events  that  drastically  changed  her  life,  i  think,  and  that’s  becoming  friends  with  her  ex  and  the  passing  of  her  father.  in  terms  of  the  first  event,  she  doesn’t  resent  it  because  who  knows  where  she’d  be  now  if  she  hadn’t  taken  that  step.  perhaps  she’d  be  better,  but  perhaps  she’d  be  worse.  as  for  the  second  event,  i  think  she  secretly  resents  it.  harley  likes  to  let  on  that  she’s  coping,  that  she’s  gone  through  her  grieving  process  and  has  fully  let  it  go,  but  she  hasn’t.  not  entirely.  she  isn’t  sure  she  ever  will.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑:  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎  𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝  𝚒𝚗  𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐?  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎?

probably  that  she  has  her  family  and  doing  right  by  them,  making  them  proud,  is  certainly  what  guides  her  the  most.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍:  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐  𝚏𝚘𝚛?  𝚒𝚜  𝚒𝚝  𝚊  𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌  𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎?

she  doesn’t  long  for  much,  truthfully.  just  to  stay  sober  and,  as  aforementioned,  make  her  family  proud.  harley  isn’t  sure  how  realistic  it  is,  but  she  hopes  she’ll  get  to  see  it  all  come  to  fruition. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐔𝐍:  𝚒𝚗  𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕,  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌  𝚒𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎?  𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜  𝚒𝚗  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎?

she  tends  to  be  very  optimistic  when  it  comes  to  other  people,  but  pessimistic  when  it’s  anything  having  to  do  with  herself,  if  that  makes  sense.  &  she  doesn’t  often  take  time  to  smell  the  roses,  but  she  most  certainly  appreciates  that  those  roses  exist.

𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 :  𝚒𝚜  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜?  𝚑𝚘𝚠  𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝  𝚘𝚏  𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜  𝚠𝚑𝚘  𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?

of  herself?  absolutely  not.  i  don’t  think  harley  has  ever  forgiven  herself  for  anything  she’s  done  yet  and  she  isn’t  sure  she  ever  will.  as  for  others,  if  they  only  wrong  her,  she’s  forgiving  and  does  so  with  ease.  if  it’s  one  of  her  family  members,  lol  good  luck  because  you’ll  be  on  her  shit  list  for  the  rest  of  forever  and  she  is  not  above  going  out  of  her  way  to  make  your  life  hell  in  the  worst  of  ways  (  she’s  very,  very  protective  of  her  fam  idk  what  to  tell  you  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐎𝐑��𝐃:  𝚒𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  𝚘𝚗𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚒𝚗  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑?  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚍𝚘  𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕?

be  someone  who  makes  her  family  proud  and  if  that’s  a  goal  she  completes,  i  think  she’ll  just  continue  to  work  at  being  that  someone  because  making  them  proud  once  would  never  be  good  enough.  she  wants  them  to  be  proud  of  her  always,  whether  they’re  living  alongside  her  or  watching  over  her  from  the  heavens.

[starbright18]

WOLF'S BANE - PART ONE

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

"Faster?" 

"Much faster!"

"Like, twice as fast." 

Scott was driving Derek's Camaro while we raced across the ironworks to catch him, while Stiles sat shotgun and I lounged across the backseat. Really, I wanted to be the one to drive, but as all three boys so politely pointed out, I didn't even have a driver's license, which meant Derek didn't trust me to drive. A bit outlandish if you ask me. I may not have had a license, but Scott was driving slower than my grandfather Elias, and he can't even drive.

"Scott, I don't think you're grasping the concept of a car chase, here." Stiles shifted uncomfortably. When I glanced out the back windshield, I saw an SUV following closely behind us.

"If I go faster, I'll kill us." Scott defended softly. 

"Listen, if you don't go faster, they're gonna kill us! And I don't know about you two, but I am not dying before my first Winter Formal!" I snapped. With a sigh, he pressed the pedal to the floor. Eventually, the car behind fell behind. 

"All units, suspect is on foot heading into the ironworks."

"Great," I mumbled. Scott and Stiles shared a look, leaving Scott to drive even faster to get to Derek before the police or hunters could. Scott sped into the lot, screeching to a halt right in front of Derek. Throwing open the door, Stiles instructed Derek to get in before he clambered between the seats to join me in the back, successfully elbowing me in the face twice while he settled in. "Ow."

"Sorry," He grinned. 

"You're not."

"I'm not." He confirmed with a nod. Derek rushed into the passenger seat, slamming the door once he was in. I flinched when bullets rained down on the side of the car, causing Stiles to cover my body with his while Scott sped off once more. 

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott snapped. 

"Damn it, I had him!" Derek yelled back.

"Who, the alpha?" Stiles popped his head between the seats. 

"Yes! He was right in front of me, and the freaking police showed up."

"Woah, hey, they're just doing their jobs." Derek's head snapped toward Stiles, shooting him a mean glare. "Uh, yeah."

"Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the state." Derek's next glare was directed to Scott. I pulled Stiles back from between the seats, shoving my body in his place.

"Actually, that was me." I gave him a sheepish smile, one that he met with another glare. "In my defense, I thought you were dead, so." Stiles gripped my shoulder, pulling me back in order to shove himself between the seats.

"Alright, look. How did you find him?" He faced Derek, who shook his head at Stiles with an incredulous look on his face.

"Look, can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott snapped.

"Yeah, all three of us." At Stiles' words, Derek leaned forward, giving him another glare that caused him to recoil back into the seat. "Or just them. I'll be back here." 

"I don't care if you tell me or not," I shrugged, shoving my body between the seats. "Even if you don't, Scott will tell Stiles, and Stiles will tell me."

"Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out." Derek was speaking to me as he turned his head to face me. "She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris—"

"Our chemistry teacher?" Stiles shouted, shoving his body between the seats with mine. I groaned when my head smacked Scott's shoulder causing him to glance down at me. I pretended not to notice while I placed my hand on Stiles' forehead and pushed him into the back.

"Why him?" Scott asked.

"I don't know yet." Derek snapped. 

"What's the second?"

"Some kind of symbol," Derek pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, revealing a sketch of a wolf under a sun. Something that looked familiar. It appeared Scott recognized it too when he threw his head back against the seat. "What? You know what this is?"

"I've seen it on a necklace." He informed Derek.

"Allison's necklace," I nodded, snatching the paper from his hand. "I can probably borrow it. Or at least steal it. Most likely steal—" I paused when I noticed the hard look he was giving me. "—but I can guess I try the non-criminal way first."

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

"Hey, Ally," I grinned, flopping down in the seat in front of the brunette girl. 

"Hey, Margo," she grinned back. "What's up?

"Hey, listen. So, I was thinking maybe we could have a girl's night?" I paused, trying to think of excuses before continuing. "It's just—after Scott, you know, I've been miserable at home by myself and—well, you and Lydia are my only girlfriends, so..." I trailed off. Really, I did want to spend some more time with Lydia and Allison. My only friends being Scott, Stiles, and Derek didn't really seem to be doing me any favors. 

"Oh, yeah, sure! Um, we can do it tomorrow night at your place?" She suggested. Realizing I may not get the necklace if we went to my house, I shook my head solemnly. 

"Yeah, we could, but it's just...Scott and Stiles were planning to study together at our house."

"No worries, we can do my house." She sent me a reassuring smile. "Is 7 okay?"

"Yeah, it's perfect. Thank you, Allison, really. It feels like I'm suffocating in my house sometimes, you know?" Her eyes fell on the doorway and when I turned, I saw Scott standing still, eyeing the open seat next to mine. My heart picked up at the sight. 

We hadn't spoken since the day in the locker room. It wasn't like he hadn't tried, he did. But between being busy trying to learn control with Derek and the search from the alpha, avoiding him had become easy. Except when we were hunting for the alpha together, of course. But even then, I simply chose not to look at him. He rushed over but Lydia was faster, slamming her book on the desk.

"Try another row, sweetheart." She spit venomously. Scott sighed but relented, taking the seat behind her. 

"Thanks, Lyds." I grinned. 

"Anytime, babes." She winked back, settling into the seat.

"Alright, class. Let's settle down," Ms. Conley instructed. 

"Hey, Margo," Scott whispered from behind me. I turned my head slightly, giving him a weak smile. 

"Hey. Class is starting, so..." I trailed off.

"I know, I'll shut up. I just, um—" he lifted his phone from his arm, waving it slightly.  "I have some stuff on my phone that I wanted to send you. I thought you might like it."

"Go ahead," I hesitated. With another weak smile at his ecstatic grin, I turned to face the front.  I fought back tears that threatened to push forward while Ms. Conley wrote on the board, and I felt Allison gently kick the leg of my chair. When I glanced back at her, she had her eyebrows raised in a questioning look, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded, turning back around when my phone vibrated on the desk. 

scotty 2 hottie :-)

attachment: 7 images, 1 video

Ms. Conley began to give instructions that I ignored in favor of scooping up my phone. A sad smile fell on my face while I flipped through Scott and I's relationship in pictures. First was a picture that mom had taken of Scott and me soon after we met in third grade, dressed in fancy clothes that we wore to our elementary school's winter banquet. The next was a picture of Scott and me in 4th grade that Melissa took shortly before mom died, squeezing together on the couch when we had a movie night. There was a picture of us at 6th-grade homecoming that dad had taken of us as each other's dates. 

The next was of two 12-year-old kids on the lacrosse field just after we both made the team. I was on Scott's back making him carry me around the field. A photo of us at 13, just after I had gotten braces. Knowing just how much I hated them, Scott covered my mouth with his hand for the photo when dad told me not to. 

Then there was a picture I hadn't seen before. It looked like we were freshmen here, fast asleep on the couch at my house, my head laying on Scott's chest while his arms were wrapped tightly around me. The last photo was from winter break, just before Scott was bitten. He took this photo one of the days we were practicing lacrosse, where I was kissing Scott's cheek while he grinned widely. And finally, the video was a short clip of Scott and me on the field at one of our games doing our best friend's handshake after I scored the winning goal. 

Drawing in a shaky breath while I fought away tears, I slipped my notebooks off my desk and into my backpack, rising to my feet and all but running out of the room. When I reached the door, I turned my head back, sending Scott a sad look. I didn't know he had these pictures, or that he kept them. These photos were ones you'd find in our photo books from both families, memories that our parents loved to keep. But for Scott to have them, to look at them. It made my heartbreak ten times worse and my heart cried out for him, wanting desperately to be with him after all this time. 

"Margo," he called from behind me. I froze and slowly turned to face him.

"Why did you send me those?" My voice cracked. "Are you trying to make me feel even worse for not giving us a chance?"

"No, I thought you'd like them." He frowned. "I—I thought they would remind you of us."

"Are you trying to hurt me? Get back at me? Because it feels like it." Tears began to fall. Scott took a cautious step toward me with a sad look on his face. 

"No, Margo. I—"

"Please, just give me time, Scott. I—I need time, okay? Just give me time." Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heels. The only noise to be heard across the hallway was the sound of my shaky breaths and my stilettos clicking across the floor as I walked far away from Scott McCall.

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

"So, tell me what happened again," Dad instructed. After I left Scott at the school, I called him almost immediately. I didn't tell him exactly why I needed to leave school early but he didn't object, agreeing to talk to Coach in order to ensure I would still be able to play in the Quarterfinals. He picked me up and took me to the local drive-in diner for lunch and ice cream, not bothering to press me for more information until we had our milkshakes in hand. "You and Scott?"

"Not officially," I mumbled, taking a long drink of my hot-fudge shake. 

"But you two broke up?"

"If you could call it that."

"Why exactly? I mean, I'm not even understanding how you two finally got together."

"Finally?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Finally," he confirmed, raising his eyebrows. "Your mom and I always thought you'd be together by middle school. Melissa and Stiles thought high school."

"You guys put bets on Scott and I getting together?"

"Not officially," he grinned, using my words from earlier. "I mean, come on. A blind person could see that you two love each other."

"We almost kissed before school started in the woods when we were hiding from you," I admitted, turning to avoid his eyes. "And he kissed me when he made first line but told me it was a mistake. Then he told me he loved me before the night at the school. And then he kissed me again at the school. And then we broke up. And then we may have made out in the locker room. Before today, we hadn't talked since then. He sent me pictures of us through the years, things I didn't even know he had. It—I accused him of trying to hurt me, then I told him I needed time. And now I'm here." 

"Wow," dad breathed, staring at me in shock. "I think you gave me whiplash from how fast you guys change your minds."

"Dad," I whined, throwing my head back against the headrest. "This is serious, I don't know what to do."

"Do you want me to shoot him?"

"No, daddy." I laughed softly. "I just—I need you to tell me what to do here."

"Why me?"

"It kinda has to be you," I mumbled. His face fell at the realization that I was referring to mom. It may seem weird just how much I confided in dad, but considering he was our main parent after mom got sick and began to break away from reality, he had to step up a lot. 

He bought me my first box of tampons (with Melissa's guidance, of course), was who I went to when I had my first kiss, was the shoulder I cried on any time I was stressed, and now had to deal with my relationship problems. 

Sometimes I wondered if mom would've been able to help more in the girl department, but dad did a really good job at being a girl dad, something I was thankful for. And when he couldn't figure something out, he turned to Melissa, who was more than happy to raise me as her honorary daughter (and Stiles as her honorary son). I think he did a pretty good job given the circumstances if I do say so myself. 

"You know, I—you and Scott sound like your mother and me at that age," he raised his eyebrows. "The up and down, off and on, 'I love you' then 'I hate you', that's all part of teenage love. You guys are kids, you're not supposed to have everything figured out. Do you love him?"

"Don't you already know the answer to that?"

"I do. But I want you to admit it to yourself." He gave me a pointed look. "And then accept it, because until you accept that you love him and he loves you, it's always going to be this up and down."

"I do love him," I frowned. "I think I always have."

"Okay, then what is holding you back?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "At first it was Stiles and the twin-sister code he created. Then it was Allison when they started dating. Then it was too close to their breakup for me to feel comfortable. And then—then I panicked at the school. Allison kissed him in the heat of the moment. He didn't kiss her back, she even told me that. But I guess seeing it scared me. I didn't want him to hurt me, and that's what it felt like was going to happen."

"You sure you don't want me to shoot him?" He offered, causing me to laugh. 

"Yes, dad." 

"Listen, Margo. As much as I would love to protect you from all the hurt and heartbreak in the world, it just doesn't work like that. I'm not saying love should hurt, because it shouldn't. Not if it's right anyway. But it's life, sweetheart. It's hard and it's scary and sometimes you're gonna get burned so badly you wish you'd never stepped outside in the first place. Plus, you're 16. I'd be more worried if you weren't getting your heart broken a time or two. You can't let fear dictate your life or what you choose to do with it. So, Scott may break your heart. So what? You think you won't break his heart once or twice?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Okay, then. So what's stopping you?"

"Your gun collection," I joked. 

"If it was any other guy, that may be something to worry about." He laughed. "But this is Scott McCall, honey. Ever since you and Stiles introduced me to him when you brought him over to work on your science fair project in the third grade, he's always had this look in his eyes. Like you were the only girl he ever saw. He has the same look in his eyes 7 years later."

"When did you get so wise?" I teased. 

"Listen, raising twins, one of which being a teenage girl, I had to learn a few things." 

"Thanks, dad." I smiled, leaning across the center console to give him a hug. "Thanks for listening."

"Your mom, she uh—she would've been able to help more, you know? But I know she'd tell you the same thing. Don't give up on Scott just because he may break your heart."

"Does this mean you approve?" I raised my eyebrows and sent him a mischievous smile. 

"Don't push it." He warned. "But yeah, I do. Scott McCall has my approval. 

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

"Stiles, we're home!" I called, running up the stairs. Dad was still in the car taking a work call, leaving me to find my twin on my own. "Stiles! Are you here?" I pushed his door open. I jumped when I saw Derek Hale standing in the corner. "Holy hell, Jesus." 

"Hey, Margs," Stiles greeted, storming into the room to flop down at his desk. 

"Hey, Stiles!" Dad called, making his way upstairs. 

"Yo, d—Derek?" Stiles whirled around in confusion upon seeing the older man standing in the corner. Derek pressed his finger to his lip, aggressively pointing toward the door to get Stiles to lead dad away. Together Stiles and I rushed to the door, leaning as casually as possible in the doorway. 

"What'd you say?" Dad asked, standing in front of us with a quizzical look on his face.

"What? I said 'yo...d—dad'." Stiles nodded. 

"Listen, uh, I got something I've gotta take care of, but um, I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game." Dad smiled at Stiles. 

"My first game," Stiles mumbled. "Gosh, great. Awesome! Uh, good." He stammered. 

"I'm very happy for you, and I'm really proud of you. Of both of you." I grinned at dad's statement. 

"Thanks. Me too, I'm very happy and proud...of Margo." Stiles stuttered. I closed my eyes tightly and sighed. Way to keep it cool, Stiles.

"So, they're really gonna let you play, right?"

"Yeah, dad." I nodded. "He'll be starting right next to me on first line. Can you believe it? Both your kids starting together in the quarterfinals." I was excited for Stiles to finally get his chance on the field, something he had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I knew dad was ecstatic to have both of his children, his twins, starting together as well. 

"I'm very proud."

"Me too. Again, I'm—" Dad pulled Stiles into a tight hug. "Oh, huggie. Huggie, huggie..."

"I'm proud of you too, Margo." My hug was next and was significantly less awkward compared to Stiles. Dad and I hugged more than he and Stiles did, but I loved it every time. Nothing would match the comfort he and Stiles provided for me, both of them stepping up in their own ways to help raise and shape me into the person I was becoming. 

"Thanks, dad."

"I'll see you there," Dad gave Stiles a weird look before he walked away. 

"Take it easy," Stiles breathed out. 

"Love you!" I shouted down the stairs. 

"Love you guys too!"

"Way to play it smooth, Stiles." I rolled my eyes, pushing his bedroom door open. He followed closely behind and as soon as he stepped over the threshold, Derek was grabbing him by the collar and pushed him up against the wall. 

"If you say one word—" Derek shoved his finger in Stiles' face. I pursed my lips while I watched the two. I knew Derek wouldn't hurt Stiles so I wasn't too concerned. 

"Oh, you mean like 'hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room, bring your gun'?" Stiles asked, eyeing Derek. Slowly, Derek let go. "That's right. If I'm harboring your fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules, buddy." Stiles smacked his hand against Derek's chest. Derek nodded and straightened out Stiles' jacket, causing Stiles to do the same to Derek. From the number of times they glanced at each other's lips, you'd think they wanted to kiss.

"Oh, my God." Stiles flinched when Derek jerked his head toward him causing me to snort in laughter. 

"You two should just kiss already," I rolled my eyes, flopping down on Stiles' bed. Both boys glared at me but I ignored them, busying myself on my phone.

"You didn't get the necklace?" Derek asked, looking down at me.

"Not yet," I shook my head. "We're having a girl's night tomorrow, I'm gonna take it then."

"There's something else we can try," Stiles glanced at us. "The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there."

"So?"

"So, it wasn't Scott."

"Can you find out who sent it?" Derek asked, turning to face Stiles. 

"No, not me. But I think I know somebody who can." Stiles stated, nodding his head at me. "Call Danny."

"What? Why?"

"Because you two are lab partners. Tell him you're gonna work on lab work or something, I don't know." Stiles shrugged. 

"I hate you, so much."

"I know. Now do it."