#I did not plan to write this chapter until yesterday...

[merrybloomwrites]

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter Summary: Y/N is overjoyed to head to the hospital to meet her new nephew, and ends up meeting Harry Styles as well.

Word Count: 1.7K

CW: mentions of people giving birth

AN: So excited to finally post this series! I've really enjoyed writing this and hope you'll all like it. Thank you to the anon who requested shy virgin reader!

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You’re anxiously waiting to get a text or a call from your brother-in-law. You’d spoken to your sister yesterday morning and she mentioned that she felt like she was having contractions and would probably be in labor soon. So casually! You figured that since this is her second baby she must be feeling more relaxed about the whole situation.

But that doesn’t stop you from worrying about her for the whole day and a half between that call and when your phone finally rings again, Brian’s name appearing on the screen. He’d been sending regular updates to you and your parents and the last one sent almost two hours ago just said “it’s time”. 

So this call must mean your new nephew is finally born. You quickly grab the phone and answer the call. 

“Brian, hi!”

“He’s here!” He exclaims. “Born at 1:35, 7 pounds, 2 ounces, 21 and a half inches long.”

“How is he doing? How is Kyra?” 

“He’s perfect! Kyra did great, she’s resting at the moment. We'll send a picture soon. She asked that no one come this afternoon but we’d love for you to stop by tomorrow. Your parents are coming in the morning and bringing Wyatt to meet her little brother.”

“Ok great! I’ll talk to them and coordinate what time.”

“Awesome, you’re gonna love him! Listen I’ve got a couple more calls and I want to get back to them but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Brian, give Kyra my love!”

“Will do, bye Y/N.”

You hang up and literally squeal with excitement and relief that he’s here and everyone is doing well. You let out another happy noise when you get a couple pictures from Brian. You’re immediately in love with this little boy, even if he looks like an alien/old man hybrid. You wish you knew his name, but your sister made it clear she is keeping it a secret until you and your parents meet him in person. 

At 8PM your mom calls and you figure they just got Wyatt to sleep. You talk for a bit and make plans to all meet at the hospital the following morning at 11. 

You’re so excited that it’s nearly impossible to fall asleep, but you manage. The next morning passes quickly, and suddenly it’s time to head to the hospital. 

Once there you find your parents and your niece signing in and you do so as well. Finally, the four of you make your way to the right room. Just like when you met Wyatt nearly three years prior, you immediately fall in love with this little baby the second he’s placed in your arms. 

“Everyone, meet Jasper Lucas,” your sister says. 

For half an hour you all get to spend time with Jasper as well as check in on Kyra, who truthfully looks fantastic for having just given birth the day before. You and your parents step out in order to give the family of four some time together. 

Your mom comments that she could use a coffee and your dad hastily agrees so they head off to the cafeteria. You figure they must not be used to taking care of a toddler and decide to go over and help out that evening. 

They ask if you want anything and you decline, choosing to instead go into one of the family waiting rooms and check on a project for work. 

The room is empty when you enter but after a minute you hear footsteps. Looking up from your phone, you’re shocked to see who just walked in.

Harry Styles casually sits in one of the other chairs. You subtly glance at him, noting his jeans and sweater combo, as well as the look of pure excitement on his face. After pointedly looking anywhere but at him for a moment you can't help but turn towards him again.

“Hi!” he says cheerfully when he notices you looking at him. 

“Hello,” you manage to squeak out. 

“I’m Harry,” he says, leaning towards you with his hand out.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply while politely shaking his hand, hoping you’re doing it right. Which is wild because you;ve shaken hands with people hundreds of times but like, this is Harry Styles. 

“My sisters just had a baby,” he adds, and now you understand why he’s practically vibrating with glee. 

“Congratulations! Mine has as well. Is this Gemma’s first?” You realize a second later how creepy you now sound, using his sister's name when he hadn’t even told it to you. 

Before you can apologize he laughs and says, “Yes, her first. So you know who I am then?”

“I mean, I don’t live under a rock so yes, I am aware that you’re Harry Styles.” 

“Can you do me a favor then, love?” 

You nod, willing to do anything he asks, especially if he continues to use such sweet terms of endearment like ‘love’.

“Gems kept this whole pregnancy private, and isn’t planning to announce she’s had a baby for a few weeks. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I just had to tell someone. Can you help keep this a secret and not let anyone know about the baby?”

“Oh of course, yea, secret’s safe with me.”

“I appreciate it. We may be adults now, but I think I’ll always fear the wrath of my big sister,” he says with another laugh. “Is this your sister's first as well?” he asks.

“No, I have a niece, Wyatt, she turns three next month,” you reply.

“And this little one, boy or girl?”

“Boy. His name is Jasper. My sister always said she wanted one girl and one boy so I guess she got her wish.” 

You refrain from asking him the same question, not wanting to look like you're asking for personal information about his family, but he apparently doesn’t feel that way because he says, “Gemma had a girl. The tiniest little thing. I think. At least she looks that way in the picture.”

“You haven’t been able to see them yet?”

“Not quite, they needed a few more minutes before they were ready. Our mum’s in there with her, has been the whole time, so I’ve been anxiously waiting on my own.

“I feel that. I was the same way the past couple of days.”

“Well at least we have each other now, I feel much less jittery being able to talk to you,” he says.

“Glad I could help. People say I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

“Oh I can see that already, I’m quite enjoying this conversation.”

Just then Harry’s mum, Anne, walks into the room.

“Harry dear, they’re ready for you,” she says, giving you a quick smile before she walks out again.

He jumps out of his seat and says, “Sorry to cut it short, but-”

“Not a problem! Go, meet your niece. Bet she’ll be very happy to meet her Uncle Harry,” you reply.

“Would you want to keep talking? Later?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be at the hospital.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean here. I just meant, maybe we could meet again, some other time. At some other place. Preferably with better coffee.”

“Are you asking me to hang out with you at a coffee shop?” you inquire, wanting to make sure you fully understand what is happening.

“I am. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve actually asked someone on a date, guess I’m a tad rusty.”

Your eyes go wide at the word ‘date’. You were already perplexed, wondering why he’d want to hang out with you as friends, but making it a date? 

Your mouth works faster than your brain, and before you can really think through your answer, you hear yourself saying, “I’d love to get coffee with you.”

“Fantastic! Here, write your number in my phone and I’ll text you to set something up,” he replies while unlocking and handing over his phone. You’re practically on autopilot typing in your info and handing the phone back to him.

“I should go, I’ve got a niece to meet. It really was lovely chatting with you.”

“I agree. Say congrats to your sister for me!”

“I will, please say the same to your sister.”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Goodbye Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon.

“Looking forward to it. Goodbye Harry.”

With one last shy smile, he walks out of the room, leaving you standing there feeling rather shell shocked. You don’t have long to dwell before your own mother pops back in saying Kyra is ready for you all to go back.

You spend another hour there before leaving to go out and get some lunch. While you’re at a local restaurant, trying to encourage Wyatt to eat her lunch rather than play with it, you get a text from Brian saying Kyra and the baby will be discharged later that afternoon.

After lunch you go to their house and entertain Wyatt while your parents make sure everything is clean and ready for them to come home. Brian, Kyra, and Jasper arrive just before dinner, so you stay to make sure everyone eats and is as content as possible. 

You leave after cleaning the dishes, knowing everyone is ready to settle down for the evening. Back home you hop in the shower, and when you get out, you have a text from an unknown number. It reads, “Hello, Y/N, it’s Harry.”

Your eyes go wide and you let out a nervous giggle. Honestly, there’s a part of you that thought you had hallucinated the interaction this afternoon, but here’s proof that it all really happened. Before you can type back you get another message from him saying, “If you’re not busy, how would you feel about getting coffee this Saturday? Say 1PM at Inkwell Cafe?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply. Your phone dings again a second later and you read, “See you then! Have a great rest of your week.” After sending a quick “You as well!” you toss your phone to the side. 

You get into bed, and reflect for a moment on everything that happened since getting up that morning. You knew it’d be a wonderful day; how could it not when you got to finally meet your perfect nephew?

But to have met one of your favorite celebrities and now have a date with him? Never in a million years would you have guessed the day would end this way. You fall asleep feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hoped you liked this chapter and can't wait to share the rest!

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 2

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Feels, Angsty Dialogue.

Author's Note: Any and all writing errors are my own. Chapter 2 is here and I hope it is portraying enough story for you all! I haven't done a series in a hot minute so I am trying to get my bearings and make this content enjoyable for all you that are excited for this. I hope this chapter is good for you all. As always Happy Readings.

“Sign here.” 

You look at the open spot next to Bucky’s name, his signature already signed and sealed. Flashes of your sister appear in your mind as you reach a shaky hand towards the awaiting pen. 

Were you really going to do this, could you stoop to your sisters level and just take what was right in front of you? 

Your signature glides across the paper signed and sealed, you’d blame it on the stars. 

There’s sincerity in Winnies eyes as she looks at the two of you, “it’s done, welcome to the family sweetheart, we’ll celebrate the two of you properly at the reception in a week’s time.” 

You manage to pull a smile on, albeit shaky as the room congratulates the two of you, his hand still resting on your lower back. Your dad must notice the uneasiness in your eyes, “it really was a pleasure to do business with you as always and we look forward to bringing two families together the day of the wedding,” he directs to the Barnes family, “y/n sweetheart are you ready to go,” he questions his eyes on you now “surely your mom is going stir crazy waiting for us to get back.” 

You snap out of your revere eyes zoning in on your father, your lips part to speak but Bucky beats you to it, “actually Mr. Y/l/n if it’s alright with you I’d like to take y/n out to lunch,” he pulls you closer into his side, “she and I have some catching up to do.” 

You did? 

You did. 

You can feel his eyes on you as you scan the menu, a menu you don’t even need to look over – you always managed to get the same thing every time you came here though it had been some time since the two of you had been here together. You can vividly remember when this was your place, it was quickly replaced by a newer, not so hole in the wall Diner that had become their place. 

It had been replaced just as quickly as you had. 

“Is this what’s become of us?” You bring the menu down slightly to meet his stormy cerulean eyes, brow raised in question he continues, “we’ve become strangers to one another.”  

You bring the menu down placing it upon the table, hands crossing above it, “Strangers,” you question “is that what you think we are? I was certain we were more.” 

“It’s what we’ve become. I don’t see you anymore, we don’t hang out, you’re not around, I feel like I barely know who you are, you’ve become a shell of my best friend.”  

And whose fault is that? 

Anger simmers in your chest as you look at the man before you, “you must forgive me,” you grit, “but like you, I have a job to do, I promised my father I’d live up to the family name just as you promised your father, and up until yesterday I’ve been helping my sister plan your wedding, every last detail, I’ve barely had time for myself so please give me some grace, there’s only so much of myself I can give.” 

Only so much hurt I can take. 

You catch the subtle shake of his head, “what happened to us?” 

My sister. 

“We grew up James.”  

You catch the tick in his jaw, “oh so it’s James now? I’m no longer Bucky, Buck, Bee.” 

You sigh shaking your head, “Bucky please.” 

“No y/n,  what happened to us, you can’t tell me nothing has changed its -” 

“You chose her,” you almost yell, “you chose my sister, I was all but discarded by you and your family without another thought the night you decided to end our contract because and I quote ‘I can’t do that to your sister’. You scoff, but he could do it to you, “Rebecca was the only one who cared what happened to me after you made it abundantly clear that it was my sister you loved. I was embarrassed,” you continue, “I was hurt, I thought I had everything I could ever want only to have it all torn away.” You tilt your head to the sky willing away the tears, you would shed no more for the man before you. “I needed time, and even that I couldn’t get because I was planning YOUR wedding to MY sister, a wedding that should have been mine. So forgive me for skipping out on our visits, family dinners, Diner hangouts, I just couldn’t Bucky, I couldn’t because every time I was reminded of what no longer was mine.” 

You didn’t think it possible to ever get the man before you speechless but you had managed. Your waitress pops in then a cheery smile on her lips as she asks the two of you if you’re ready to order. You meet her eyes rattling off your usual, you look back at Bucky who still seems frozen, “I’ll have the same thing.” he manages. Before she can skip away you say, “can we get this to go please.” 

“Of course doll, I’ll get it out in a jiffy, have your ticket out front!” 

You move to exit the side of the booth you took, the weight of what you got off your chest crushing you once more. Bucky’s reaching for you, there’s a pleading look in his eyes, “please don’t go, sit down, talk to me.” 

You shake your head, softly removing the hold he has on you, “I’ve said enough for one evening Bucky, I need time, please.” 

And he lets you go, just like he let you go that night, you don’t know what hurts more. 

He’s sat at his father’s old desk, the one that has become his since his old man passed. His eyes are trained on a single contract the one you thought had been discarded, his name and your name signed and sealed at the bottom, this one was much older though years in the making like the two of you. He remembers the night your parents took the two of you aside, sat you down and had the conversation with you.  

He thinks how the two of you then hadn’t hesitated to sign your names. He thought it was just two best friends doing a job, stepping up to the plate for their family.  

Had you really loved him that long? 

How could he have not seen it. 

There’s a soft knock on the office door, his mother enters slowly a tired smile on her lips. “My boy, what are you still doing up, it’s late.” 

“How long?” 

Winnifred looks at her son in question, “how long what James?” 

“How long did she love me for?” 

His mother lets out a quiet noise as she moves over to her son, her arm landing on his shoulder rubbing his clothed skin. “I think she’s loved you for longer than she even knows, there’s always been an adoration in her eyes for you, she’d have done just about anything for you.” 

Bucky shakes his head, “Why didn’t I see it, why couldn’t I tell?” 

Winnie laughs now, hand squeezing “oh my boy, you Barnes men are always a little slow.” He laughs but there’s no actual amusement behind it, “you let me discard this contract like nothing that night, why? Why didn’t you stop me?” 

His mother sighs, “we all saw how encompassed you had become with her sister, and while it gradually occurred, we all saw it, the one who saw it most was y/n. Before you came to us yourself, she had come to me first, she held me to a promise that should you ask for the contract to be reconsidered to please do so.” She smiles sadly, “she just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with her, but I know that night, she was hoping it would be.” 

“Why,” he breathes, “why didn’t you stop me?” 

“We believed this is what you wanted son.” 

He’s shaking his head more vigorously now, “I thought all this time she didn’t feel the same, I never saw the signs, I never -” he's like a lost boy meeting his mother's eyes for the first time, “what do I do ma?” 

“You do what you should have done then, choose her.” 

The Arrangement Taglist: Kindly reminder if at any point you'd like your tag removed please message me, Thanks!

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[vizjpmdose]

HE'S MY PURPOSE IN MY AFTERLIFE. JPM x ghost fem!reader. !! : mention of murder, reader is james' little secret admirer, admiration that slowly turns into obsession. a/n: this was supposed to be an appreciation post for him on his birthday but I was busy that day :(( (English is not my first language, I apologize if you spot any grammatical erorrs that I'm not aware of.) preview: "Loving you was a gamble, and losing myself was the cost."

"Dear Diary,

The thrill he radiates in this afterlife made me feel more alive than I ever was. It was like a calling for me."

The Hotel Cortez is a twisted labyrinth that you'll forever be stuck in. You believe that it's your fate for the afterlife. This place was a nightmare for you, you've been brutally murdered in this place, yet you woke up in the same place but in a different form. In that case, you're a ghost now. It's lonely being a ghost.. It's always the same for you; watching people secretly or just disassociating in the corner in your ghostly form. You sit quietly in the room you haunt for years, the room where your disturbed soul learned to feel comfortable in. You also found solace in the pages of your diary. In that diary of yours, based on the words you wrote in those pages, you believe that you found your purpose.

You're meant to meet this man, his presence made you feel like you still had a purpose even in the afterlife. You flip through the pages of your diary, your eyes quickly spotting his name written on every pages. You wrote about those days you see him in person in the hotel along with descriptions of his brutal charisma, his gorgeous appearance, his power, and most importantly..

How you longed to reach out, to let him know about all of your thoughts about him that you wrote in your diary.

Devil's Night was yesterday. You had a plan, you wanted to do the first move by greeting him and interacting with him in that special night for him. You want to write a new thrilling experience in your diary, but unfortunately.. He was really busy, yet you didn't gave up.. The thrill is intoxicating.

Tonight, you decided to walk down the hallways until you saw him.

"Belated Happy Birthday, Mr. March. I hope Devil's Night went well for you." You greeted. It felt like you gave every strength in your body just to say that.

He raised an eyebrow as he heard your voice, his sharp gaze made it's way to you but a smile appeared on his face despite of his gaze staying sharp and dead.

"Why, thank you my dear." He replied with that smooth silk voice that you always wished to speak to you.

"What a gentleman." You thought.

He didn't walk away yet.

"It's a surprise that a ghost here seems to still respect their superior. This is what I've been telling these ghosts, to remember who's in charge and to remember who provided a home for their fate."

He added.. Those words made you feel alive that all you could do is just stand there and look up at him with a wide smile of adoration.

"I'll remember you, my dear."

With that, his smile shifted to a smirk.. and for a moment, you felt that maybe he knew. You almost hoped he did. But then, he finally walked away. You watched him walk away elegantly, loving how he carries his dignity.

You immediately rushed back to your room, excited to add a new chapter to your diary. You wrote feverishly, recording the encounter. It was the kind only your soul could understand.

"Tonight, he was close enough to touch.. He's indeed my purpose in this afterlife." 

[oliviablancmom]

"Pedriiii"

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Singlemom!OC

Theme: Fluff, a little bit of angst.

N/A: To my dear Pedri's Girls who voted, it's finally here. I'm sorry for not posting it yesterday, but I ended up getting very tired and with some doubts. First about being a "reader" or OC, and I ended up choosing OC because I couldn't write without visualizing someone, and because while I was writing, the image of Hande Erçel came to my mind. Anyway, this is just an introduction, there will be three chapters and a bonus. I hope you like it, and that you fall in love with them as I did.

"I can't believe it, Fer. I can't believe it happened again. When I think everything is going to be fine, something like this happens," Pedri lamented. His brother was already upset with the situation.

"I know, brother, we will get through this, as we always do." Pedri ran his hands over his face. "I need to call mom, she's is worried." Pedri just agreed while his brother walked outside the box. At the same time he left, a little boy entered the private space. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed Pedri.

"You are crying?" The boy cautiously approached Pedri and then kneeled on the floor beside the player, his elbows resting on the sofa where Pedri was sitting. "My father says that men shouldn't cry, but my mother says that only real men cry."

Pedri laughs.

"Your mother is right. Are you alone here?" Pedri looked around looking for any adults, but it was just them. The little boy just nodded and then started looking for something in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, and soon he was taking off his coat. Pedri noticed the name and number on it. "I liked the choice of shirt." The little boy looked at him, embarrassed.

"here" he finally takes out a handful of M&Ms from his pocket. "Mom and I always eat them when we are sad, and now that you are sad, you will feel better after eating them."

Pedri smiled at how adorable the little boy was and readily accepted the candy; he was too sad to think about his diet.

"Bye I have to go." He watched the little boy put on his jacket again, ready to leave.

"Hey, don't you want me to sign your shirt?"

The little boy looked at him cautiously and uncertainly, and Pedri could see that he was in an internal battle.

"My mother says I shouldn't bother the players"

"It's not a bother; you shared your sweets with me; we're friends now. The little boy's eyes opened so wide that Pedri was afraid they would jump out.

"Serious?" he asked uncertainly. Pedri just nodded and saw the boy's face light up.

"PEDRIIIIIII!!!" He gave an excited scream and ran to the player, hugging him. He was definitely controlling himself before, Pedro thought.

**********************************************

"Hey, do you plan on going to that nightclub again?" Pedri asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible while continuing to do the exercise that the physical trainer gave him.

"What? Are you asking this? I thought these things weren't for you. Ferran mocked.

"It's because he's trying to find the woman he spent the night with," Gavi says, receiving a deadly look from Pedri.

"What, am I lying? You looked at every photo that marked the club's location on social media."

"Seriously Gavira, if you don't shut up..."

Pedri threatens, making the others laugh.

"It seems that only you were affected by the night since you woke up alone in the hotel room" said Ter Stegen, the goalkeeper who had been listening to the entire conversation in silence until now. Pedri looked directly at Gavi, knowing he was responsible for telling the details.

"Seriously, man, I'll never tell you anything again."

"What? I was just trying to help. Knowing if one of them saw the woman you were with that night. If I hadn't seen her, I would have thought it was a hallucination in your head."

Pedri rolled his eyes at the younger man's mockery.

"I know you were upset that you woke up there alone. 

"I wasn't," Pedri said defensively. "It was not a big deal." He said with a shrug, preferring to remain silent while focusing on the strengthening exercises, that it was better to forget the subject, either because Gavi was irritating him or because he had a grain of truth.

Nightclubs were not a place he normally frequented; he always preferred to stay at home watching a series or movie, but he had made an exception that night as he was upset because of the injury and the nasty comments he received, like it was his fault. It ended up that he didn't regret going at all; after all, it led to the best night of his life with the woman he would meet at the bar, and thanks to not consuming alcohol, he had recorded in his mind every detail of that night and the woman.

He remembered the exact moment she entered the place; his eyes immediately stayed on her; her presence attracted him like a magnet; and her long hair fell all over her back and down to her waist. The red lipstick and the huge, sweet smile she had. He remembered her scent and the woman's sharp tongue as he approached, not giving a damn about who he was. He had etched the dimple in her cheek every time she laughed at something he said, and God, her laughter was like music to his ears. He remembered how she pressed her body against his while they were on the dance floor and how all that tension took them both to a hotel room that night. What a night!

"Dude, stop thinking about her while you are with us." Ferran's voice takes Pedri out of his thoughts. Pedri looked at him confused.

"Your cheeks give you away, man," said Gavi, who had a small smile on the corner of his face. Pedri turned to the mirror, noticing the color that appeared on his face.

"Shit", he mumbled, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind.

"Although you met her in a nightclub, maybe you should look in other places, like churches or registry offices." He looked even more confused at Ferran, who had an ironic smile on his face. "You know, considering your history with women who end up being married and everything."

"Seriously, I'm done with you guys." Pedri stood up, moving away from his companions, who were laughing at the situation.

**********************************************"" Fans like to feel close to players, so we can continue investing in content with them in pairs or in groups. We can record some kind of challenge with the boys who have the most friendships about how much they know each other. Fans love knowing these details." The woman said to the social media girl as they walked down the corridor to the meeting room, where the rest of the communication team would be.

"Mom, mom, mom!" She turned, looking at the little boy who was running towards her.

"Hey, honey, what's wrong? Everything is fine?" She bent down to the child's height, who seemed to be in a hurry to be somewhere. "I'll be at the gym with my friend," he said impatiently, about to run again.

"What a friend? There is no place for children there" she said worriedly, placing her hand on her son's head.

"Mom, pleeeaaaase," he said while pulling the woman's bag, looking for something.

"Axel, breathe. What are you looking for?" She asked when her child threw all the things inside her bag on the floor.

"The cards that Grandpa gave me to show my friend, I FOUND." he said excitedly, shaking the cards in his hand.

"Bye mom, I love you." She watched as the boy disappeared down the corridor without even looking back, which made her curious to know who this friend was, and she made a mental checklist to ask when they were leaving. She also added to talking with her son about running around Ciutat Esportiva, she had the opportunity to bring him to work, but she knew it was best not to abuse the luck, even though he was normally a quiet child, these days, he always had to be somewhere.

**********************************************

The sound of Xavi's whistle signaled the end of training. He thanked all of the players, greeting each as they dispersed across the field. Some were already returning to the dressing room, and I remained there along with a few other guys.

"3, 2, 1...." Gavi says. Pedri raise his eyebrows in confusion, looking at him.

"PEDRIIIIIIIIIIII" Rafinha and Ferran say in a thin voice, clearly imitating the little boy who ran onto the field in our direction.

"He took so long to come this time," Gavi says, laughing at the scene. The little boy opens his arms and throws himself at Pedri, who holds him carefully.

"Hey little guy." He put him on the floor, and held out his hand for him to hit.

"Are you ready to play yet?" he asks, raising his eyebrows hopefully and looking the player up and down. It was the question he asked every day since he started showing up at the end of training to visit him, showing all his anxiety about seeing his favorite player return to the field.

"I'm almost there; I'm back to training now, but I'll be ready soon." The child makes a pout.

"My God, he have the same habit of arching the eyebrows and the things you do with your lips. It's too much Pedri for me." Rafinha says, laughing as he walks away. He ruffles the child's hair, and only then does the little one seem to realize the presence of the others. And his cheeks turn red, and then he hides behind Pedri's leg, who bends down and hugs him.

"the red cheeks and all." Are you sure you haven't been messing around?" Gavi continues. Pedri rolls his eyes at his friend, throwing the bottle he was holding at the youngest.

"Hey little guy, there's no need to be ashamed of us; we're cooler than him." Ferran says as he is trying to get the child's attention, making him hides his face in Pedri neck. The number eight smiles mockingly at Ferran, proud of the child's far-from-discreet preference.

"Don't flatter yourself; you didn't see the number he's wearing." Fermin scoffs.

"It's very good taste," Gavi says. Pedri turns the little boy in front of him.

" Axel!!! This is treason," Pedri says indignantly, as he sees the little boy wearing Gavi's number.

"My grandfather chose today. Gavi it's his favorite" he says with a shrug.

" But I like him a lot too." Gavi smiles, convinced, at his friend.

"Of course you like; you're the same size, of course you'll feel affinity." Gavi's smile dies immediately, and he raises the middle finger to Pedri.

"haha, Look who's talking, Pedri."

"Don't you think it's strange that he's here every day? " Pedri asks curiously.

"He must be some employee kid," Fermin concludes. "At most, the brother of one of the teenagers who are outside waiting for photos, he is small, manages to pass the security guards with no problem" They laughed again.

The little boy moves away from the player and looks for something in his pocket, and Pedri already knew what it was; after all, that had become their routine since they started meeting more often, whether in the CE or in the boxes on match days. Axel takes a handful of M&Ms from his pocket to share with the player.

"Just a little this time. My mother is suspicious." His eyes widen at the boy.

"You said your mother gave it to you, Axel," Pedri asks worriedly.

"Well, sometimes she gives it to me. But she says I can't eat all the time."

The boys were trying not to laugh, especially now that the boy was more welcome with them, casually kicking the ball for them.

"Great example, Pedriiiiiii." Ferran scoffs; Pedri rolls his eyes; it wasn't his fault; well, in part yes, it was him who said to the child, "Your mother won't mind if it's just a little."

**********************************************Pedri was sitting with the other players in the press room of the arena where the Barcelona basketball team was playing. They were waiting for the club president to take a photo; after all, it was important for them to see the first-team players supporting the others. While he waited, Pedri looked at the candy store's website on his cell phone, looking for what Axel had told him so much about during the week, about a new type of M&Ms with different flavors that he was dying to try, but it was still out of stock. Occasionally he would look up from his cell phone to respond to something the other players were saying. Gavi was by his side, chatting about something that Pedri could no longer follow due to the rapid changes in subject that the youngest started.

"Hey, guys," Laporta says, entering the conference room. He greeted each of the players who were there, and the staff organized them for the photo. As always, the president would hold the ball, and everyone would be on hand to touch it, in the form of support. After the photo, they start a conversation with the president until the door is opened wide.

"Oh, sorry." I thought they were already finished. Pedri, who had his back to the door in a conversation with Araujo and João Félix, freezes; he would recognize that voice anywhere, and above all, he would recognize the perfume, which hits him like a punch in the stomach. He immediately caught Gavi's eyes, who seemed as surprised as he was.

" The game is about to start, and we need to take some photos of the boys for promotion."

"Of course, we're done here" the president says, laughing. Apart from Gavi, the other boys didn't seem to notice Pedri's reaction, as he finally found the courage to turn around to look at the woman, and God, he felt his breath catch in his lungs.

"Oh, do you already know the boys personally?" Laporta asked the woman who looked up from her cell phone, looking at the other people in the room, and as soon as her eyes fell on him, they tripled in size, but she was quick to hide her surprise.

"No, not yet" she said simply.

"Boys, this is Isa Harver; she is the club's new communications assistant." Laporta introduced them, and she extended her hand to greet each of them. When her hand stopped in front of Pedri, he immediately noticed the ring on the girl's finger.

"Fuck" He heard Gavi saying behind him with a certain humor in his voice. Pedri simply couldn't believe his luck.

******************************************

N/A: SOOOO, I hope you guys enjoyed it!! I revised this chapter a million times, but English is not my first language, so something must have slipped through. Let me know what you think. And for my Gavi's girls, I'm also preparing something for you."

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[geothewriter]

Vermillion Seas Cardinal Skies: Chapter 28 - Mending the Broken

The time has come for acts of restoration. Of the spirit and of the body. And of the…jewelry? The Avatar is so back.

--

Goooooooood Day to y’all! It’s that time again! Chapter 28 - Mending The Broken, eh?! I’m excited to share this…because I’ve had these scenes floating around my head for over a year now! A YEAR! I can’t believe we’ve finally reached this point! <3 I know I’m slow to write, but I’m just glad I’m still putting these out and have kept the consistency for this entire time. Once again, and always, THANK YOU @achillmango! You’re the bomb and absolutely amazing for editing these chapters! You’re *killing* it! Thank you, as always! Now, please enjoy the first bit of Chapter 28 - Mending the Broken!

It’s only a few more weeks until the comet, till the world ends unless Aang can save it. Katara isn’t sure he’s ready, but he has to be. He must be. Yesterday needs to be the last time they have a free day until after they win, or else she just knows they won’t. Last night was fun, and those new bending moves everyone came up with would be amazing in combat, but Toph’s right. There’s just not enough time to practice, to get good at them, to make them work.   She would love to blast steam in the Fire Lord’s face. Make him pay for what he did to Zuko. But…that isn’t her. Not really. Unless he threatens him again, then maybe. But really, what’s the point in thinking like this? There’s not even enough time to think about mastering new techniques, and besides that, today’s going to be special. Today’s that big bending training exercise that Sokka’s been bragging about nonstop. The cobbled path leading across the grassy slope away from the house has seen better days. She smiles at a few flowers that are having no trouble pushing through the tiniest gaps between the rocks. The grass is overgrown, too, but she doesn’t mind it. With just the tiniest bit of tender love and care, this place will look spectacular. Turning her gaze across the ground, the path ahead disappears over the hill, and she wonders if she’ll have the opportunity to come back here. To this island. With– “Hey, Katara!” Suki shouts gleefully as she bounds toward her.  She must be coming to watch whatever Zuko has planned before the big group training session he mentioned at breakfast. The other girl’s been surprisingly quiet this whole morning, and besides her greeting, the only other sound is some small argument making its way across the grass. The stress must be– “Isn’t it wonderful?” She asks, “How liberating it is?” “I beg your pardon?” Katara pauses to look at Suki, finding a knowing smirk plastered on her face. “You know!” She pauses. “When Zuko came to talk to us last night, I thought it was going to be worse than it was, and I thought I knew what it was about. Boy, was I wrong. It was embarrassing, but it was over quickly. But wow! He’s one to talk!” “That’s– what are you talking about?”  This conversation is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She swears, if Suki starts talking about any details involving her brother she won’t hesitate to blast her with water. “So…?” She asks accusingly.  “So what?” Katara responds with her annoyance clear in her tone and continues walking, leaving Suki behind her. The other girl grabs her arm and spins her to face her. “What is it, Suki?” She growls, having about had enough of this. “You don’t have to play coy with me, Katara. I know what’s going on. I saw Zuko coming out of your room last night.” “Suki, I–” “Besides, like I said. It’s liberating! The world could end in a few weeks, and here we are, just living. Anyway,” Suki twirls forward away from her, “See you and Zuko with Toph in a few minutes!” She adds with a wink. They didn’t do anything.

Continue reading on AO3.

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - Chapter 1, part 1

Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.

Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. Or at least, it hasn’t been me in a long time.

There was a time when I was more comfortable in my own skin, when my shyness didn’t feel like a weight. It used to be a part of me, something I accepted, something I lived with rather than fought against. I could be quiet and still feel confident, blending into the background but never doubting my worth. But somewhere along the way, that shifted. The quiet I once enjoyed now feels stifling. I’m constantly second-guessing myself, overthinking every little action, every word I say, as if there’s some invisible audience keeping score.

The world feels too loud, too fast, and I feel too small in it.

Lately, the silence of my own company has become less of a comfort and more of a reminder. A reminder that I’m stuck. That life is moving forward, and I’m standing still, watching everyone else go on without me. I can’t even remember the last time I did something that made me feel...alive. Not just existing from one day to the next but really feeling like I’m part of something—part of the world instead of just a spectator.

Tonight, it feels like I’ve reached some invisible limit. I can’t take another evening of staring at the same four walls, of flicking through channels without really watching, of pretending I’m okay with the monotony. Work drained me, as it always does, leaving me too exhausted to think but somehow too restless to sleep. My mind feels like it’s stuck in a loop, clogged with the same old worries that circle endlessly, without resolution. They’re small things—most of them, at least—but they pile up, weighing me down until I can barely breathe under their collective pressure.

Normally, I’d push through it, fall back into my routine because that’s what I do. I know the safe route; I’ve perfected it over time. But tonight, the routine felt unbearable. The thought of going home, of slipping back into the same old patterns—it made my chest tighten with the kind of dread I couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t that I had a plan, not really. I just knew I couldn’t face another night of nothingness.

So instead of walking home like I always do, I took a different path, literally. One foot in front of the other, the sidewalk unfamiliar beneath me as I moved further away from everything that felt safe and known. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. But the farther I walked, the more it felt like I was being pulled—by something I couldn’t name, some need inside me that I’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

And that’s how I ended up here, standing in front of Paul’s, the bar I’ve passed countless times but never once considered entering. It’s not my kind of place. Never has been. It’s gritty, loud, with an edge that feels too rough for someone like me. The kind of bar where everyone seems to know each other, where conversations are shared over sticky countertops and half-drunk glasses of whiskey. The regulars here probably have stories they’ve told a hundred times, stories about the kind of life I don’t live—the kind of life I always thought I didn’t want.

But maybe tonight, I don’t want to be the kind of person who always plays it safe, who blends into the background without ever leaving a mark. Maybe tonight, I need to be someone else. Someone who isn’t so afraid to take up space. Someone who doesn’t spend hours dissecting every interaction, every conversation, until the memory of it feels more like a mistake than a moment.

I step inside, and immediately, the atmosphere hits me like a wave. The smell of cigarette smoke clings to the air, mixing with the sharp scent of alcohol and something else I can’t quite place. It’s dimly lit, the kind of place where shadows linger in the corners, and the faces blur together unless you’re really looking. There’s a hum of conversation, the low murmur of voices blending with the occasional burst of laughter, creating a background noise that fills the space without overpowering it.

I don’t know why, but the second I cross the threshold, I feel the weight of the room shift. Not in any obvious way. It’s not like anyone stops what they’re doing to look at me—most people are too engrossed in their own lives, their own stories. But I feel it. I feel different, like I’ve stepped out of my usual world and into something unfamiliar, something that makes my nerves buzz just beneath the surface of my skin.

For a brief moment, I want to turn around, to leave before anyone even notices I’m here. That familiar urge to retreat, to go back to what I know, bubbles up inside me, threatening to overwhelm the tentative boldness that brought me here in the first place. But I don’t leave. I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then force myself to stay. To move further into the bar, even though every part of me is screaming to turn back.

I make my way toward the bar, my steps feeling both too loud and too quiet at the same time. My eyes flick around, taking in the crowd, but not really seeing anyone. I feel exposed, out of place, but at the same time, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that no one is really paying attention to me. I can be invisible here if I want to be—and that’s fine. I’m not here to be noticed. I don’t need anyone to see me.

I just need a break—from my own head, from the endless loop of thoughts and worries that seem to follow me wherever I go. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find here, or if I’m even looking for anything at all. All I know is that tonight, I couldn’t go home. I needed to be somewhere different, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere that wasn’t the same quiet, predictable space where my thoughts would close in on me again.

That’s when I see him.

He was positioned behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter with an ease that suggested he was in his element, practically part of the furniture. His blonde hair, tousled and slightly unkempt, peeked out from under a well-worn baseball cap, pulled down just enough to give him a hint of mystery, shadowing his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes caught mine with an intensity that felt almost tangible, sharp and probing, as if he could peel back the layers of anyone who happened to fall under his gaze.

For a brief moment, the thought of diverting my eyes flitted through my mind, a reflex to escape the unexpected vulnerability I felt under his scrutiny. But I didn’t look away. Instead, our eyes locked, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face—a smile that seemed to see right through to the nerves I was trying so hard to mask. He held my gaze for a beat too long, creating a moment charged with an unspoken challenge before he turned his attention back to the drinks he was pouring.

A stir of something unfamiliar fluttered inside me—a cocktail of nerves, curiosity, and an exhilarating sense of daring. This wasn't typically me; I was not one to flirt openly, especially with bartenders, nor to sit alone boldly in such a buzzing place. But tonight was different. Tonight, I felt drawn to the unknown, compelled to explore whatever this could lead to.

As I approached the bar, each step seemed amplified, my awareness heightened as if every movement was a statement of intent. I slid onto a stool, feeling the coolness of the leather through my jeans, and my presence seemed to draw his attention once more. The bottles behind him caught the soft lighting of the bar, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the polished surface. The room was steeped in the smells of smoke and aged wood, enriched with a hint of something musky, almost intoxicating.

He glanced up as I settled in, his earlier smile returning, expectant, as if he had anticipated the challenge I was about to present.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice a rough blend of warmth and rasp, perfectly echoing the raw, ambient energy of the bar.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have a standard order ready, something simple and unassuming, designed to blend in rather than stand out. But tonight, driven by a newfound audacity, I hesitated, meeting his gaze squarely. “Whatever you recommend,” I ventured, my voice more steady than I felt.

His eyebrow arched, clearly amused by my response, and his smirk widened, adding a playful edge to his already compelling demeanour. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, the gesture firm despite the fluttering in my stomach. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to resonate with a hint of respect, or perhaps challenge. Shaking his head as if in disbelief at my daring, he reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Watching him work was like observing a skilled artist; each movement was fluid and assured. He selected ingredients with precision, mixing them with a practiced hand that spoke of years behind the bar. As he prepared the drink, I found myself stealing glances, drawn to the confident way he navigated his domain.

He slid the drink across the bar with a smooth motion, and when his fingers brushed mine, a spark of electricity zipped through me, startling and vivid.

“Here you go,” he said, his tone light, that easy grin playing on his lips again. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a tentative sip, and the drink was a revelation—smooth with an undercurrent of complexity that mirrored the night itself. It warmed me, loosening the edges of my anxiety, coaxing a sense of openness I hadn’t felt upon walking in.

“Not bad,” I replied, my own smile a reflection of his, a silent acknowledgment of the small adventure I had embarked upon.

His eyes studied me, a flicker of intrigue passing through them. “Good to know,” he said, his voice tinged with a subtle warmth. He momentarily excused himself to attend to another customer, his movements efficient and practiced as he refilled a drink without missing a beat.

As he worked, the familiar atmosphere of the bar wrapped around us—a comfortable hum of background chatter mingled with the clink of glasses and the occasional cheer from patrons watching the baseball game on the television above. Adjusting his cap, he made his way back to where I was sitting, his approach marked by an easy, confident smile that seemed to pull the dim light of the bar towards him.

Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, aiming for light-hearted but cringing a bit at the cliché.

He chuckled, a light, engaging sound that drew a grin from me. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending a hand across the bar.

Hank. It suited him perfectly—strong, straightforward, with just the right amount of rugged charm.

“I’m—” I began, ready to offer my own name, but just then, a regular at the end of the bar caught Hank’s attention, loudly requesting help with the jukebox that was stubbornly refusing to accept their money. Hank shot me a quick, conspiratorial smile that promised he’d return, and then he was off, his stride confident as he navigated the crowded space.

I watched him as he worked, noting the way his shoulders rolled with each movement, the casual confidence in his stride. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew the eye and held it. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he seemed so completely at ease in his environment, as if he were as much a fixture of the bar as the shelves of liquor behind him.

As he adjusted the jukebox, his eyes occasionally flicked to the small television mounted above the bar. The San Francisco Giants were playing, and it was clear from his intermittent nods and muttered comments to another patron that he was following the game.

When he returned, the noise level in the bar had dropped a bit, and he leaned in slightly to resume our conversation. “Big Giants fan?” I asked, gesturing towards his hat and the screen above us.

"Definitely," Hank said, his smile broadening. "I played a ton in high school back in California, but a bad leg break sidelined me for good. Now, I never miss a game, it helps keep the spirit alive."

“From baseball player to master mixologist,” I observed, noting the transition from his past interests to his current profession. “Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He let out a soft chuckle, a hint of irony flickering in his eyes. “Something like that,” he replied with a slight shrug. “Though life always has a few surprises up its sleeve, doesn’t it?”

As the evening unfolded, the bar had thinned out, not nearly as busy as when I first arrived, but still lively enough to keep Hank moving between customers. Between sharing a laugh, or tossing a rag over his shoulder with casual grace, his eyes would inevitably return, as though drawn by some unspoken pull. Each time he approached, it felt like we were continuing a conversation that had never really stopped, even if words weren’t always exchanged. It was more about his presence—the way he leaned in slightly, his focus making it seem like nothing else in the room mattered.

The warmth of the alcohol settled into me, quieting my usual reservations. It wasn’t enough to cloud my thoughts—I was still fully aware—but it gave me a newfound confidence. With each passing moment, the initial unease melted away, replaced by a comfortable rhythm between us.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s tonight? You don’t exactly blend in with the usual crowd here,” Hank inquired after a while, his tone casual but curious, his eyes searching mine for something deeper than the surface-level chit-chat.

I hesitated, the question more profound than I had anticipated sharing with a near-stranger. Yet, something about Hank’s straightforwardness, underscored by the honest curiosity in his eyes, made me want to open up.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. This isn’t exactly my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, leaning against the bar, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen for a moment where the end credits of the game were rolling. “Yeah, I kind of figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else like… where?” I asked, curious what he saw in me.

He paused, his gaze momentarily drifting off as if visualising the answer, then locked back onto me with a reflective expression. “I dunno. A café, maybe? Somewhere quiet. You strike me as someone who appreciates peace.”

I smiled, touched by his perceptiveness. “You’re not wrong. I’m definitely more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned in a bit, resting his chin on his hand, studying me as if he was putting together a puzzle. “Let me guess,” he started, his voice lowering to a warm, playful tone, “you’ve got that favourite little corner spot, don’t you? Always tucked away with a book or maybe a notebook for doodling or jotting down your thoughts. And I bet you drink your coffee black, no distractions—just you and your thoughts.”

The accuracy of his assumptions made me burst into laughter, more open and genuine than I expected in such a setting. “Okay, you’re close,” I conceded, still chuckling. “But, I do take a little sugar with my coffee—just a touch to sweeten the deal.”

His laughter joined mine, creating a light, easy atmosphere that seemed to set the tone for whatever was to come. “Noted,” he said, with a mock-serious nod. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

The lighthearted moment briefly subsided as he posed a more thoughtful question, his tone lowering to a gentle, inviting rumble. “So, what’s got you stepping out of your coffee shop comfort zone tonight?”

Glancing down at my glass, the swirl of liquid momentarily mesmerising, I acknowledged the underlying current of vulnerability. Yet, there was an ease in Hank’s presence that coaxed the words from me more freely than I expected. “I don’t know... I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Work’s been overwhelming, I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s response was a nod, his eyes softening with a deep understanding. “Yeah, more than you’d think.” Curiosity piqued, I found myself more drawn to him, seeing him not only in his role here but as someone who genuinely understood the struggles people go through. “What about you? You seem like the kind of guy who’s seen it all here. What keeps you coming back?”

“The people, I guess,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes meeting mine again. “Everyone who walks in has their own story, their own reason for being here. I like that—it’s unpredictable. I can be part of the background or something more, depending on the night. Tonight feels different, though.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the conversation shifting as his attention became more focused.

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You stand out. You’re not trying to blend in, like most people who come in here to disappear for a bit.”

I felt a shiver run through me, even though his words were light. “I wasn’t really planning on standing out,” I admitted, my voice softer now, a little shy.

He folded his arms on the bar, leaning in just a touch closer. The subtle intimacy of the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I felt my cheeks warm, surprised at how much I liked hearing that. “Yeah… me too,” I said, smiling just enough to let him know I meant it.

He smiled back, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes, stepping into something unfamiliar is exactly what we need to remind ourselves what we’ve been missing.”

There was a brief pause, comfortable yet charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming between us. “And what do you think I’ve been missing?”

He leaned in, closing the space between us. “Maybe something real. Something that pulls you out of the everyday.”

I held his gaze, my heart racing a little faster now. “Maybe I am.”

“Well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “you’re not alone in that.”

The air between us thickened, charged with an undeniable pull. Even in the quiet, there was no mistaking the connection forming between us—raw, real, and electric.

The last patrons trickled out, and the bar lights dimmed slightly, signalling the end of the night. The soft glow cast shadows that only made the space feel more intimate. A slow, soulful tune from the jukebox filled the room, amplifying the closeness between us.

Hank leaned in a little more, his hands idly wiping down the already spotless counter, though his attention was fully on me. The air around us felt thick with unspoken anticipation, a magnetic pull that neither of us could ignore.

"You’ve definitely changed the vibe in here tonight," Hank murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that seemed to match the mood of the room. “Doesn’t happen often.”

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks but found myself leaning in too, letting the moment take over. "Is that your way of saying you hope I come back?" I asked, my tone playful, though beneath it, there was something bolder, something daring.

A slow smile spread across his face, one that made my pulse quicken. “I’m definitely saying that. You’ve made tonight... different. And I like it.”

The room felt smaller, as though it was just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into the background. Our eyes locked, the tension between us humming with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Neither of us moved to break it.

Hank leaned a little closer. There was a question forming on his lips, one that seemed to dance in his eyes as he paused, giving the moment the weight it deserved.

His gaze flicked to the back door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he said it. “You wanna get out of here?” His voice was low, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

The invitation was clear, laden with possibilities and the thrill of continuing whatever was unfolding between us outside the confines of the bar walls. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Normally, I would hesitate, tangled in self-doubt and over-analysis. But tonight felt different. It felt like a return to an older version of myself—I took a deep breath, embracing the liberating shift, and met Hank's gaze with a quiet nod.

"Yeah," I said softly, "I do."

Hank nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he moved towards the employees-only door at the far end of the bar. He gestured for me to come closer to where the bar ended, and I walked towards him, my heart pounding in my ears.

As I reached the end of the bar, I found myself separated from him by a pane of glass that partitioned off the employees’ area. Above Hank, the neon “BAR” sign bathed him in an ethereal glow, casting dramatic shadows across his features, highlighting the contours of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the gentle curve of his full lips. He reached up to unlock the door from his side, his eyes locked on mine.

Our hands met through the glass, fingertips aligning in a moment charged with anticipation. The cool surface couldn’t lessen the warmth that radiated from his touch. With a soft click, he swung the door open, diminishing the barrier between us.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and inviting. I moved around the partition, stepping into his world behind the bar for the first time. There was an intimate thrill to being on his side, close enough to share his space.

Together, we walked towards the back of the bar, where a heavy door led to the alley outside. As Hank pushed it open the cool night air hit my skin, but it did little to cool the fire that had been burning between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

As he kissed me deeper, the sensation was overwhelming—like a storm that obliterates everything else, leaving only a beautiful, blissful blankness in its wake. It blew my mind how everything inside me cast into darkness, every worry dissolving in the heat of his touch. What a relief it was, not having to think anymore.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

Part 2

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 9 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer embark on a night on the town and things grow awkward fast when you met a handsome stranger. Spencer’s jealousy leaves him determined to show what he’s capable of. But even that doesn’t go quite to plan.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, smoking, making out, swearing, jealous Spencer, tears, mild argument, erectile issues, fingering, titty sucking, coming untouched, coming in pants, vomit, build up to dissociation.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl

Spencer sat on the porch as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, jabbing his finger at the screen of his new phone. It had no buttons, just a large touchscreen. It unlocked by reading his face and didn’t have the same kind of tactile quality he was used to in a phone. 

Unfortunately, they simply didn’t make devices like his old one and he’d had to settle for this iPhone, for which he had no idea how to use. 

You’d somehow managed to sort it so it could keep the same number and magically transferred all of his existing contacts onto it. It all went over Spencer’s head and he stopped questioning it. 

Now he was attempting to send Garcia a text message after receiving one from her, positively disbelieving he had spoken to both Luke and Morgan but wouldn’t answer her calls. 

It took him nearly twenty minutes to write a reply, his fingers not dexterous enough to figure out the touch screen keyboard. As he finally corrected all of the spelling mistakes and hit send, he heard the door to your lodge open. 

He was hesitant to go along with you to the 11th Street Bar for multiple reasons. For starters, bars were not fun when sober, not that he’d ever particularly enjoyed them when he did drink either. Then there was the fact that in two years he’d never interacted with these people and according to you they already thought him rude. He didn’t like socialising, why could no one understand that? 

He pushed himself up from the chair, his knee aching slightly but the pain was lessening. You locked the door to the lodge before gliding down the stairs and down the path until you were closing in on him.

It was only when you were in front of him that he could fully appreciate you and he felt a lump begin to form in his throat as he took you in. You wore a floral, off the shoulder dress which stopped at your knees and showed more skin than he ever dreamed of seeing. Pairing it with your red riding boots and you looked almost like a local, the epitome of a cowgirl.

You also looked absolutely ravishing. Spencer’s raging heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest to show you exactly how divine he thought you looked. But his slack jaw and wide eyes said enough and you blanched a little, tilting your head to the side.

“What?” You scuffed your boot in the dirt. “Never seen a genu-wine cowgirl before?” You impersonated a southern drawl. 

“I…I, uh…” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, you just…you look…jeez Y/N.” 

You giggled at his inability to form a coherent sentence. You had rendered him speechless. 

“Well you know, I want to fit in around these parts.” You swung your hips side to side, the dress billowing around you as you did so. “Don’t look so bad yourself, stud.” 

Spencer felt his cheeks flush red, the heat quickly spreading down his neck. He still wore his black jeans, the ones he’d noticed you checking him out in yesterday. He also dusted off an old button down from back in his BAU days, in a dark purple colour. 

He tucked it into his jeans and left the top few buttons undone. He spent a long time taming his hair and forewent a stetson once he was happy with how it looked. 

“Uh, thanks.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. 

“Gonna make being friends with you real hard if you keep looking at me like that.” You smirked at him, still impersonating that thick Texas twang. 

“Just get in the car, okay?” He shook his head, trying to ignore the way your outfit made him quiver. 

You hid your amusement by turning towards the car, Spencer following behind. You paused at the driver’s door.

“Just gotta grab something from the trunk, jump in.” You called over the hood and Spencer nodded before cautiously sliding into the passenger’s seat. 

Once he closed his door you sidled around to the trunk and opened it. You glanced up through the car to make sure he wasn’t looking before you lifted the trunk lining.

Hidden away in the empty shell that had once held a spare tyre was a black duffle bag. You quickly unzipped, revealing the wads and wads of bills concealed inside. You grabbed a couple of twenties and folded them, stuffed them in the side of your left boot before zipping the bag and secreting it back away under the trunk lining. 

Soon you were hurrying around to the driver’s seat like nothing had happened. 

***

The discomfort distended to every single one of his nerve endings the moment the two of you stepped inside the 11th Street Bar. The place was packed and all eyes were instantly on you. 

As you sauntered inside you were met by wolf whistles and catcalls and it made Spencer feel incredibly protective of you even though it wasn’t his place. 

He watched their hungry gazes linger on your bare legs and bare shoulders and move onto your clothed breasts and backside. 

It made a pit form in his chest, more so when you sent smiles and winks across the room in various directions. 

He wanted to blanket you, both physically and metaphorically. He wanted those animals to stop staring at you this way. He wanted you to stop enjoying the attention so much. 

He followed you like a stray dog towards the bar, where you leaned on the counter, no doubt giving the balding bartender an eyeful of your cleavage.

“Well looky here, if it ain’t Miss Lizzie come back to join us.” The old man hissed as he spoke. “Lookin’ mighty fine tonight if I do say so too.” 

“What, this old thing?” You glanced down at your dress before waving a dismissive hand at him. 

Spencer felt more out of place than he ever had done in his life. This was quite honestly the last place he ever wanted to be. 

Sensing the presence hovering behind you, the bartenders gaze lifted over your head to where Spencer awkwardly stood.

“And if it isn’t Cosmo, gracing us with his presence.” The older man scoffed. “Nice of you to finally show your face round here.”

Spencer swallowed, chewing on his lip. 

“His names, Spencer and be nice.” You clucked. “Spencer, this is Cole.” 

“What can I get ya missy?” Cole ignored the introduction and looked back at you. “No more of my home brew I hope.” 

“Definitely not.” You shook your head. “I will take a shot of tequila and a beer though.” 

“What’ll you have, Cosmo?” His eyes shot back up to Spencer. 

“Uh, a ginger ale?” He posed it as a question. 

Cole pulled a face of disdain and shook his head. 

“Ain’t ever met a sober cowboy in all my life.” Cole muttered, turning away to get your drinks. 

You felt Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. 

“I hate it here.” He whined. “Can’t we just go home and you can drink that bottle of scotch?” 

“I want to stay. I like it here. You can go if you want.” You shrugged, turning back to face the bar. 

Turning your back on him. You were turning your back on him.

“You think I’m going to leave you here with all these creeps staring at you?” He moved closer to you, his chest pressed into your back and he spoke against the shell of your ear. “There is not a man in this bar who doesn’t want to sleep with you.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, not turning back to him. “Might just be some guys lucky night then.” 

Spencer felt the pit in his stomach grow larger, his heart practically falling into the open chasm. He put his hand on your shoulder again, skin against skin, and spun you slightly roughly back to look at him.

“Don’t make jokes like that.” He growled. 

“Who’s joking?” You shook him off with a frown of impatience. “Just because you don’t want to bed me, doesn’t mean someone else can’t, Cosmo.” 

Spencer’s mouth fell open, somewhat hurt at your crude summation of your fleeting relationship. Is that really what you thought? Did you really believe he didn’t want to? If only it were that simple.

He wished he didn’t want you so much. It would be far easier for him to not want you with a white hot desire. It had nothing to do with not wanting you, he just couldn’t have you. Not in that way. 

When he couldn’t form any words of response, you spoke again, folding your arms over your chest.

“We’re just friends, Spencer. You made that perfectly clear. So as far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever the hell I want. You wanna hang around? Fine. You wanna go home? Also fine. But I’m staying.” You spat, once again turning your back on him as Cole brought your drinks back over. 

You were quick to down the tequila before thanking him with a flirtatious smile and paying him with a bill from inside your boot. You practically shoved Spencer’s ginger ale into his hand before brushing past him with your beer. 

Cole was looking at him, an odd expression on his features. Spencer felt uncomfortable under his gaze. 

“Girl’s a heartbreaker.” Cole shrugged after a while. “Knew it the minute I laid eyes on ‘er. Careful how you tread there.” 

With those sage words, Cole was walking away to serve his next customer, leaving Spencer reeling. 

***

Two hours later Spencer had procured a table for himself but you wouldn’t stay still long enough to join him. The more tequila you drank, the more energy you seemed to have and you appeared to talk to everyone in the bar but him. 

He was still nursing the same ginger ale, feeling much like a spare part. He deliberately missed two calls from Luke, staring at the device as it rang in his hand. He’d hoped after they spoke yesterday Luke would stop with the incessant phone calls. Spencer had half a mind to block his number. He didn’t want it to come to that, but something had to give. 

He ignored his phone after a while and watched the way you worked the room. The whole bar was eating out of the palm of your hand, hanging off you every word. You were undeniably in your element. 

And it only went to further Spencer’s belief that the two of you were from completely different worlds. 

***

You lit a cigarette and meandered out the back of the bar for some fresh air, which you didn’t miss the irony of. The large rear garden of the 11th Street establishment was about five times the size of the inside, with a stage at one end and even an outside bar. 

You leaned up against the nearest wall, the tequila pulsing through your veins and offering you that blissful tipsy sensation. You sucked on the cigarette and observed the goings on around you. 

You’d managed to hide yourself in plain sight. No one would ever think to look for you in this little backwoods town. You’d taken all the necessary precautions, didn’t leave a paper trail. 

The car parked outside was the fourth you’d stolen on your journey. Take one, drive it for a distance, abandon it and then find another far enough away from the first they wouldn’t be tied together. 

You’d picked up this car just outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. You’d broken into a junkyard for this particular vehicle as it was likely they may never notice it was missing. You changed the plates just in case. 

The money in the trunk had been procured from your mother’s safe which not even her scumbag second husband knew about. She’d kept the nest egg of cash ever since you were a little girl and only you knew the combination.

“It’s for a rainy day, Y/N. One day I won’t be around anymore and I want to make sure you have everything you could ever need.” 

It was as though she’d envisioned something bad happening to her. When she married the second time, he’d convinced her to put all of her savings into a bank account under his name effectively meaning you’d never see a dime. 

But he didn’t know about the safe. 

You’d taken a bunch of your late mother’s clothes too, brought a few more items with the cash, including the dress you wore now. Only ever cash, couldn’t leave a trail. 

Bandera might not have been your first choice of hideout but you couldn’t deny it had its perks, and you were certain no one would ever find you here. 

And if they did, you would simply run again. 

You took another drag on the cigarette as a tall, dark and handsome stranger headed your way. Although on closer inspection he wasn’t entirely a stranger to you. 

The man wore all blue denim, a large eagle on his belt buckle, bolo tie and black stetson. He was smiling at you as he approached. 

“Hey there little lady,” he stopped in front of you, hands on his hips. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You work at Busbees? I think I saw you there yesterday.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, you’re the big tipper.” He chuckled. “I never forget a big tipper. Or a pretty face.” 

“Elizabeth.” You held out your hand.

“Charmed,” he took your hand, brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Grant.” 

Without warning he plucked your cigarette from your fingers and took a long drag on it. He sucked in the smoke and spoke again as he exhaled it.

“Things’ll kill ya.” He chuckled. 

“Live fast, die young.” You shrugged. 

“Leave a good lookin’ corpse?” He laughed too, a deep, vibrating sound.

“Certainly appealing.” You agreed.

He took another drag on the cigarette before placing it back between your lips. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip as he did so. It lingered there for a moment or two, while you took your own drag.

Removing it from your mouth, you held it between your fingers as you blew smoke over his head. You leaned further back against the wall, puffing your chest out. He took a step closer to you and you didn’t mind at all. 

You caught the scent of a musky cologne as he drew closer. 

“I don’t mean to forward ma’am but you are hotter than a firecracker that’s been lit at both ends.” His lip quipped into a smirk. 

You shuddered, the hunger in his eyes causing your legs to shake. You inhaled sharply as his hand came to rest on your cheek. 

“Imma kiss you now, if that’s okay with you, little lady?” 

You whimpered but couldn’t speak, so instead you nodded. Grant chuckled as he leaned in closer. His lips soon crashed against yours, his whole body pinning you to the wall. 

You dropped the forgotten cigarette on the floor and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you fiercely, deeply. Your legs trembled at the sensation. 

His hand that wasn’t on your face ran up your thigh and you moaned into his lips. And Spencer Reid was the furthest thing from your mind. 

***

Spencer finally decided he’d had enough when two old twins who called themselves Boone and Butch invited themselves to sit with him. They proceeded to mock him on everything from his clothes, his hair, his accent, even his ‘city boy good looks’. He’d eventually excused himself to go in search of you. 

The bar was small and it only took a few minutes to ascertain you weren’t inside. He pushed his way out the back door and breathed in the fresh air. It took only moments to find you, pressed up against a wall by another body who was kissing you with force.

One hand was on your thigh, beneath your dress and Spencer swore his blood froze in his veins. His brain must have short circuited because normally he wouldn’t have been so bold as to square up to a man of his size, but he found himself marching over and grabbing the large shoulder of the man kissing you and tugging him backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer raised his voice, glaring at you and your kiss swollen lips. 

You wiped the back of your hand over your mouth, chest heaving. 

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” You spat. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“Spencer?” The man spoke up, looking between you and him in heavy confusion. 

Spencer tensed, slowly turning back to face the man whose lips were equally as puffy as yours. He hadn’t recognised him by the back of his head and now he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“G-Grant?” Spencer croaked.

“You know each other?” You took a step away from the wall. “I didn’t think you had any friends around here?” 

“We’re not friends.” Grant spat, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest. “How do you know each other?”

“I asked first.” You cocked your head to the side. 

Spencer was unable to speak, paralysed by the unfortunate situation he had found himself in.

“He asked me on a date and stood me up.” Grant hissed. 

“Oh…oh.” You looked between both men. “Well this is sufficiently awkward. Looks like we have the same taste in men, Spence.” 

Spencer reddened, averting his gaze to the floor and wanting to crawl into a dark crevice somewhere and never come out. 

“Are you two…?” Grant frowned at the two of you. 

“Friends.” You finished for him. “Isn’t that right, Spencer. We’re just friends. Which is why you had no right to march over here and tear us apart.” 

“I really don’t want to be a part of this conversation.” Spencer mumbled to the floor.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you interfered. Why, Spencer? Why did you interrupt us?” You took a step closer to him. 

“Please,” he looked back at you, eyes full of torment. “Please can we not do this here.” 

“I ain’t looking to step on any toes, I didn’t realise y’all were-”

“Friends.” You barked, cutting Grant off. “We’re fucking friends.” 

Without warning you shoved Spencer backwards by his shoulders, the sudden touch causing him to flinch. But you didn’t notice it because you were already storming away. Spencer huffed out a breath and dared to glance at Grant who was looking at him in something close to pity. 

“If I were you,” Grant clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, again causing him to recoil. “I’d go after her.”

“Duly noted.” Spencer groaned. “But can I just say…” he trailed off for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I should have apologised. I really am sorry for standing you up. I got here and I just couldn’t make it inside. I wanted to, I really did. But, uh, I’m honestly terrible at dating and I freaked myself out. I should have apologised, I wish I had. And I’m sorry.” 

Grant inhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not expecting that from him. He let his arms fall to his sides and offered Spencer a melancholy smile.

“You hush your mouth, it's water under the bridge.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Listen ‘ere Spencer. There ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit, you get me?”

“Not in the slightest.” Spencer shook his head.

Grant chortled deeply, slapping his palm on his knee while Spencer simply stared at him, brows pinched. 

“Layman's terms: there’s somebody out there for everyone. Don’t you go thinking there ain’t. Whatever it is you been through, ‘cos you have been through somethin’, don’t write yourself off. Go after your lady.” He patted Spencer’s shoulder again and Spencer winced. 

He wanted to argue with Grant but it was completely pointless. Instead he forced a smile and nodded before turning on his heels. 

He made it back out the front of the bar without incident and found you kicking around the dirt with the toe of your boot. 

“You don’t get to do this.” You spat, arms wrapped around your body like a shield. “If you want me you can have me. If you don’t let me go.” 

Spencer shuffled down the front steps, ambling towards you. 

“I really wish it were that simple.” He reached you and cupped your jaw in his good hand, leaning in and resting his forehead against yours. “I want you but I can’t give you everything, there’s a huge part of me I just can’t give you. And you deserve the whole world, Y/N. I want you to have it all. But selfishly I don’t want you to have that with another man.” 

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I do or do not deserve? Spencer, I didn’t want to kiss that guy. I did it because I wanted a rise out of you. I want you to want me.” You felt tears spring to your eyes. 

“Let me be clear here,” he moved his hand to your cheek. “I have wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. This has nothing to do with that.”

“I’ve never felt like this about someone before.” You confessed. “And I barely know anything about you. I don’t care if you can’t tell me your life story, I don’t even care if you don’t want to have sex with me! I just want…I want someone to care.” 

A few tears escaped your eyes and Spencer brushed them away with his thumb. His breath was hot on your face and his forehead was a little sweaty against yours. 

“I do care,” he admitted. “Too much considering I barely know you either. I don’t want you making out with other guys. But it’s unfair of me to ask that of you.” 

“Spencer?” You whispered. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He replied in equally hushed tones. 

“Do you have any kind of proclivity towards me making out with you?” 

He hissed, his body quaking at the mere thought. 

“Right now?” He breathed. “I have an extreme proclivity towards it.” 

And then his lips were on yours, chapped and rough just as you remembered. His tongue was quickly plunging into your mouth and he held you so close as though afraid you would disappear. 

It grew exceptionally heated in a matter of seconds and you wanted to tear all of his clothes off right there in the middle of the street. He guided you back towards your car without breaking the kiss and soon you felt your back pressing against the side of the vehicle. 

When he did end the kiss, his pupils were blown out wide with lust. 

Not another word was shared between you. You handed him the keys silently and you both climbed into the car. In the passenger’s seat you had to clamp your thighs together as a heat spread through you. 

You hoped that by the time you made it back to the ranch he hadn’t let himself overthink this.

***

He tensed up when he invited you into his lodge, hands shaking as he opened the door and closed it behind him. His nerves were written all over his face. 

He slowly moved closer to you, once again cupping your cheek in his hand in such a delicate manner. 

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispered as his lips ghosted over your own. “The way you made me feel the other night.”

You whimpered at the thought, desperate for any kind of pleasure he wanted to bestow upon you. 

“P-please?” You whined as his hand slipped into your hair. 

“I just, uh…you don’t need…I don’t need you to, uh, return the favour? So don’t…” he trailed off, frowning at himself. 

Don’t touch me, you heard the underlying words.

“Okay.” You nodded. “If that’s what you want.” 

“Thank you. I think I just need to…test my boundaries if that makes sense?” He whispered before pressing his lips against you again. 

“Hmm,” you mumbled into his lips. “Boundaries. Sure.” 

He led you towards his bedroom blindly, holding out his casted arm so as not to bump into anything. He kicked the door closed behind him before toeing off his boots. You did the same. 

He tore his lips away from yours and ran his fingers down the fabric of your dress before stopping at the hem. You nodded, giving him the green light to proceed.

You had to help him remove the garment as he only had the use of one hand. Together you got it over your head before tossing it on the floor. 

He made a whining sound between parted lips when he cast his eyes upon your body, clad only in a pair of lace panties. 

His jaw clenched and you noticed it. You smiled at him, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. You kissed him again and moved your hands to the buttons of his shirt but stopped before you could undo any of them. 

You weren’t sure if he meant he didn’t want you touching him at all and you didn’t want to risk this ending before it could begin so you moved your hands away. 

Spencer led you backwards again and then laid you gently on the bed. He stood over you for a moment, eyes wandering almost lazily up and down your torso. 

Swallowing a lump in his throat to stave off any fears, he started on his own buttons, again not the easiest feat with only one hand. Once undone he dropped the shirt to the floor leaving him in a t-shirt, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to remove that. 

The bandage still remained snug against his bicep, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his tee. His purple cast started at the crook of his arm, only allowing a sliver of left limb to be revealed to you. 

He did however pop the button on his jeans and shimmy them down his legs. You noticed a matching bandage on his thigh, you could only hazard a guess it was shielding wounds that were created by his own hand. 

You tried not to look too long and let your gaze flick to his tight fitting underwear. There was a slight tenting within, but it was apparent he hadn’t reached full tumescence, maybe not even half. 

His cheeks reddened as he noticed your slightly sad gaze on his crotch and he quickly climbed on top of you and stroked your cheek.

“It’s not you.” He insisted, kissing you again. “I swear to you, it isn’t you. It doesn’t always…do as it should.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that so you said nothing, opting to kiss him deeper instead. 

He was trying to view it like an experiment without sounding too clinical. He wanted to gauge his boundaries, figure out how far he could push himself without crumbling. And with any luck over time those frontiers might expand to cover more ground. 

His hand wandered your body in a vain attempt to recreate the pleasure you’d given him. His fingers brushed across your collarbones a few times before dipping between your breasts, across your sternum. 

He palmed the swell of your left breast, fingers swiping out to ghost over your hardened peek. You moaned into his lips, bucking your hips against him at the sensation. 

He did it again and elicited much the same reaction before doing the same to your other breast. You hummed into his mouth, writhing beneath him. 

His own hips rutted against your leg and he was certainly getting harder. He didn’t let himself focus on his own arousal though, this was all about you.

And who knows, if he managed to take this step he may be able to take others too. 

His fingers wisped down your torso, hand splaying out across the planes of your stomach. It travelled left towards your hip and his soft touch caused goosebumps to erupt beneath your flesh. 

The fingers brushed over the waistband of your panties, down towards your thigh. He could feel the heat emanating from between your legs and he had to pull back from your lips to let a feral moan escape him. 

He let his fingers brush over the fabric of your underwear and you wriggled under him. 

“More.” You whined, the same way he had done to you. 

He kissed you again as he toyed with them, teasing you in a way that he could tell was driving you wild. 

He let his fingers dance between your legs, feeling the soaked material and moaning again. He couldn’t resist any longer, he was desperate to feel you. He also worried if he took too long he might change his mind entirely. 

He pushed the fabric aside and dared let his nimble fingers glide between your folds. He bucked against your leg and moaned into your mouth. He was fully erect now, you could feel it as he grinded against you. 

His lips had slipped from yours in lieu of sucking on your neck, teeth nibbling against your skin. The friction caused by his stubble tingled and stung in the most intoxicating way. 

His fingers brushed back and forth between your legs as though he wanted to collect every tiny drop of your arousal. 

You were whimpering, begging him for more without saying the word. And he must have read your mind because suddenly, with no warning, he plunged two fingers inside of you. 

You mewled at the welcome intrusion, back arching off of the bed and you swore you felt him smirk against your neck. 

His long, nimble digits thrust as deep as he could, until he was completely buried inside of you. He hissed against your neck, unable to remember the last time he’d been inside a woman like this. 

You clenched around his fingers, walls fluttering, tight and pulsing. It was such an unfamiliar yet conversant sensation. It caused a pinching in his stomach, a tightening in his chest. 

He remained still for several moments, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, adjusting the overwhelming feeling that flooded his entire body. 

It was new yet well remembered; he was both a novice and well versed in his craft. 

You wriggled beneath him as he was still for so long you worried he was going to freak himself out. He raised his head from your neck so he could look at you. 

His eyes were brimming with emotions, lips curled into the softest smile. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Just a little overwhelmed by how amazing you feel.” 

You cupped his chin and brought him closer, placing a chaste kiss to his lips and mumbling, “more, please?” 

Spencer sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He curled his fingers inside of you, driving impossibly deeper inside of you and brushing against your cervix. 

A wanton moaned travelled from your mouth to Spencer’s and your thighs clamped around his hand. 

He withdrew his digits enough so he could plunge back inside of you, gently at first but after a few thrusts he got a little rougher. But judging by the sounds you were making, he was doing something very right. 

He continued with this rhythm, curling his fingers each time he pushed back inside of you, and each time he brushed against you, you shuddered beneath him. 

He started scissoring his fingers, pushing his fingers against your walls and finding it dizzying how your body bent to his will. He was continuously rutting against you, the friction it caused was delirious. 

His lips roamed across your collarbones, travelling further south. When his lips wrapped around your nipple your back arched off of the bed again and you whined. 

He sucked your nipple into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the swollen bud. He teased a third finger between your legs and your staggered breaths sounded out in delight. 

As he dove three fingers inside your weeping cunt at the same time his teeth grazed your nipple, you howled so loudly you wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard from the stables. 

Spencer smiled to himself around your hardened peak, slightly disbelieving he could make anyone feel this good. 

He pumped three fingers into you, once again feeling the way you stretched around him. It was a heady feeling, and caused his cock to leak with precum. 

The sounds of your arousal as he continued his thrusts filled the room as well as a string of moans from your lips. 

He moved his lips to your neglected nipple and offered it the same treatment as the first. 

Your thighs clamped hard around his hand and you could feel your slick coating the inside of your thighs. Spencer was relentless in his ministrations, pitching in and out of you, stretching you and curling his fingers, ensuring to hit your sweet spot over and over again. 

He was rocking on top of you, his hardened member grinding against your leg. You could feel the wet patch forming in the front of his boxers and feel your own stomach starting to coil. 

You cautiously cupped his jaw, extracting his lips from their venture. When he looked at you his pupils were blown wide, lips swollen. 

You drew him by the chin for a kiss. It was messy and sloppy, teeth bumping together as tongues fought to explore each other's mouths. 

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, hoping that meant you were as close as he was. He continued to kiss you and plunge deeper, deeper, until you were trembling beneath him. 

“C-close…” you stuttered against his lips. “S-so close.” 

He moaned at the mere idea of making you come, increasing his speed with his thrusts, desperate to give you the pleasure you’d so easily given him. 

All at once the cords holding you both together snapped. With a final shuddering breath as you nibbled Spencer’s bottom lip, your walls tightened around his fingers as you gave over to wave after wave of pleasure.

You moaned his name under your breath as you came undone. The sound of his name on your tongue and the feeling of you coming around his digits pushed him over the edge. 

Still rocking against you, he came with a stifled moan, burying his head into the crook of your neck and breathing frantically. 

He withdrew his fingers and you whimpered at the loss of contact but you wrapped your arms around him all the same. 

Your hearts beat erratically against one another’s while you fought to catch your breaths.

All at once, Spencer came unravelled. With his eyes closed he could see them, hear them. 

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!” 

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.” 

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!” 

He’d pushed too far. The boundaries he’d been trying to test were coming crumbling down around him. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to…

Oh fuck.

“Fuck,” he suddenly pushed himself up and rolled off the bed, ignoring the twang in his knee as he got to his feet. “Gonna…fuck I’m so sorry.” 

You watched him run to the bathroom through bleary eyes. He slammed the door closed behind himself and seconds later the sound of vomit hitting porcelain filled your ears along with Spencer’s retches. 

You slowly pushed yourself up, the post orgasm haze still heavy and you blinked several times.

“Uh,” you croaked. “Are you okay?” 

You were met with another horrid gagging sound. 

“I’m so sorry.” His shaky voice followed through the door. “This isn’t…it’s not you.” 

“Kinda hard to believe that right now.” You stood up on trembling legs and found your dress on the floor before throwing it back on. 

“I swear it’s not…I’m so sorry. I pushed too far, I wasn’t ready.” He was sobbing, choking. 

You rolled your lip between your teeth as tears welled behind your own eyes.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…I should go.” You swallowed.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Inside the bathroom, hugging the toilet bowl, Spencer heard your footsteps get further away and then he heard the door. 

Tears streamed down his face and the wet patch in his boxers made his stomach turn again. He retched once, twice and then narrowly managed to turn his head back over the toilet before he vomited again. 

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!” 

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.” 

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!” 

“I’m not whole.” He sobbed into the toilet, emptying his entire stomach contents. “I’m never going to be whole again.” 

He wailed, crying until his eyes were sore and he couldn’t see a hand in front of his face. He vomited until there was nothing left to come up. 

His whole body shook violently as he drew his legs to his body, ignoring the stickiness in his pants and the pain it caused his knee. He wrapped his good arm around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. 

The tears wouldn’t stop, they just kept coming. He snivelled and sobbed loudly and fitfully. His temples started to throb and a near blinding headache came out of nowhere. 

His vision grew hazier around the edges before it darkened. He’d been so focused on other variables he didn’t feel the rising anger in his chest. 

By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late. And it wasn’t at all a surprise when he awoke covered in blood once again. 

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 16

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slow burn

cw ; reader spiraling a little bit, typical violence, very brief mentions of pain and blood

notes ; guys. so uhm. i don’t know what the fuck happened

while i never planned to stop writing frostbite entirely, i was sure that it would still take a while for me to actually *want* to continue it, as i’ve been endlessly burnt out from college and in a little bit of an artistic block (not to mention falling quite a bit out of genshin after natlan came out, but who’s surprised)

like i shit you not, i might genuinely have been possessed last night because i just opened my draft for the latest chapter (that got started in fucking SEPTEMBER of last year btw) and just. started writing. unfortunately that doesn’t mean i’ll start posting regularly again, i might never put out chapters as quickly as i did when i started frostbite but just know that i HAVE NOT GIVEN UP ON THIS!!!!!!! GENSHIN IS TEMPORARY BUT TARTAGLIA IS FOREVER!!!!! HUZZAH!!!!!!!!!!

(oh yeah and there’s a lot of wriothesley shenanigannery in this one. yeah this is heading where you think it is, sorry guys)

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he’s so close, you can almost feel his gloved hand held within your own.

it’s as though you’re children playing chase again, only this time you follow his glaring red scarf and his fiery head of hair through the rusted hallways of an underwater prison, rather than the snow covered field of your childhood.

he specters through the walls of the fortress, disappearing and reappearing far ahead of you just as you’re about to reach him. you call out to him ceaselessly even though it proves futile— either he’s ignoring you or entranced by something else. finally, his pace comes to a halt as he turns to a hallway overgrown with moss. a cool breeze wafts in from the hallway and as you step further in, finding that the hallway ends in a pool of glowing water. primordial seawater.

even though you’re fully aware that neither you nor him would be affected by the primordial waters, a bad feeling settles in your stomach and you rush to stop him. your pleas continue to fall on deaf ears— he steps closer and closer, until his boots touch the mouth of the pool.

you’re so close… so close that you decide to leap to close in the distance between the two of you. he’s at the tip of your fingers… and then—!

fucking ouch.

you land on the cold, unforgiving metal ground of your room with a harsh slam. gods, what are you, five years old? falling off the bed because of a dream?

certainly doesn’t help that the scenery you’re rudely woken up to is the sad, grimy bronze walls that only remind you that you’re still in prison for a ridiculous fake crime. suddenly, the situation settles into the rest of your body— as the fatigue and ache bleed into your muscles from all the backbreaking work you did yesterday for the sake pathetic little credit coupons, added onto the pain currently spreading on your side from your fall.

you groan tiredly. back to the grind, you suppose.

a lazy hand reaches out to the table next to your bed to count the amount of coupons you’ve gathered in the last few days. ugh, still not enough to buy the information from that idiot guy, vidoc. you consider your options while trying your best to stretch your muscles— the pain that shoots your limbs is unspeakable.

okay, so no heavy-work today. while that is the best way to earn a bunch of coupons, your body most certainly cannot handle it. if only there were painkillers around the fortress…

wait.

—

“now, keep it compressed with these bandages, ice it whenever you can and- obviously, don’t put too much force on it.” you finish tightening up the gauze on some poor inmate’s sprained wrist as he listens intently. once the gauze is certifiably fastened on his wrist, you take the opportunity to wrap both your hands around the joint and ever so slightly activate your cryo powers in an impromptu measure of icing the sprain.

“got it, thanks, doc.” the man nods appreciatively, hearing the nickname ‘doc’ again leaves you with a long lost warm feeling. for the first in months, you finally feel like you’re back in function— simply tending to others’ medical needs, even if it is just you working temporarily at the fortress of meropide’s infirmary.

sigewinne writes down reports and notes on her clipboard swiftly, having allowed you to cover the incoming patients while she busies herself with paperwork. only for a moment does she look up to watch yet another inmate trot out the infirmary with a satisfied air to them. she throws you a pleasant grin and hops up to proudly slap you on… well, what would sentimentally be your shoulder, but the highest she reaches is your hip.

“good work, y/n! it’s not very often that someone volunteers to work at the infirmary with me, so i’m quite grateful for your help!” the melusine praises.

you chuckle sheepishly as you neatly put away the equipment you just used. “it’s my pleasure, miss sigewinne. this kind of stuff is almost therapeutic for me.”

sigewinne giggles before she looks off thoughtfully— shooting up as she suddenly remembers something. “ah! speaking of therapeutic, i have to find the duke and speak to him about the package of romaritime flowers i-“

heavy footsteps approach the infirmary, ones that seem almost familiar to you, as they quickly reveal to come from the duke himself, as if summoned. you jump slightly once his imposing figure enters the room, moments from your last meeting flashing before your eyes. hoping to remain unseen, you choose to divert your attention to the patient who rests off a fever in the corner of the infirmary and turn your back to the other two, checking the inmate’s temperature.

“wriothesley, perfect timing! i was just on my way to speak to you about the order of supplies i placed.”

“well good morning to you too, sigewinne,” the duke muses. “mm, yes, i’ll have to check with the front desk and see about— …oh! good morning, y/n, didn’t expect to find you working at the infirmary.”

god dammit.

you turn around slowly like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar and throw wriothesley a tight-lipped, awkward smile before returning to your previous task. the duke doesn’t seem to notice your sheepishness as he continues to watch you with a smile.

“well, it is nice to see you in your element.” he comments into the otherwise painfully awkward air of the infirmary. the notion that wriothesley would ever be amused by seeing you do medical work, that he would ever even regard your existence as anything more than another fatuus residing in his prison, leaves a foreign fuzzy sensation across your chest.

“say, would you like to join me this afternoon for another talk?”

the question surprises you entirely, as your last talk hadn’t exactly been the most casual and innocent of talks… you frown towards wriothesley accordingly and he seems to immediately understand your concern.

“don’t worry, you can choose the tea this time.” he jokes, thankfully sigewinne doesn’t seem to think much more about the implications of it.

well, who are you to deny the duke of meropide, so you answer with a simple ‘sure’. the fortress’ head nurse senses the thickness in the air and moves the conversation back to where she had left it off and steps up to the exit of the infirmary.

“well! we should get going to the front desk, those romaritime flowers must be stored properly before they start withering. that is, if they’re even here at all.”

you hear sigewinne’s voice grow quieter and quieter as she leaves and turn back, once more, to your function. though… as you dip a small towel in warm water to put against the feverish inmate’s forehead, you realize only one set of footsteps was heard leaving the infirmary. a sudden warmth creeps up from the back of your neck and settles on your cheeks.

“…wriothesley?” you hear sigewinne call out from far away.

“r-right, yes.”

heavy, thumping footsteps leave the room— from right behind you. why is your heart even beating faster? this is nothing.

it’s so absolutely nothing that you entirely forget about it within your dedication to taking care of the infirmary while sigewinne is gone and the hours pass by in a flash. as you send off your latest patient, the emptiness of the infirmary room settles differently. there’s a certain air of uneasiness, a familiar chill in your spine— it instinctively tells you that you’re being watched. shoulders tense, you look around the bend of the large metal pipe that constitutes the hallway, finding no sign of life. the gnawing suspicion in your gut doesn’t leave you still, yet you choose to brush it off and occupy yourself with something else.

“sergeant y/n l/n from the medical division, eh?” a taunting voice calls out from behind you. should’ve listened to your gut.

you turn coldly to face two smug inmates. at first you presume it’s just some regular wingus and dingus who’ve got a particular distaste for fatui and decided to pick on you to fulfill their little uneventful lives rotting away in a prison. and then… you look down to see a familiar symbol in the form of a silver brooch hanging from one of the two’s pocket. and his buddy’s got one too.

oh— oh they’re even more pathetic than you thought.

and therefore not worthy of your time, so you simply roll your eyes with a demeaning scoff and slide past the two goons to make your way out the infirmary. only before you can get away, a painfully firm grip latches onto your elbow and pulls you back.

“woah! not so fast there, we’ve still gotta talk-“

“has nobody taught you to respect your superiors? you called me sergeant, did you not? now act like it.” you spit venomously.

the second fatuus chuckles smugly. “and haven’t you learned that none of that bullshit applies here? we’re all equals in the fortress of meropide.” choosing not to make a comeback, the silence allows for the two to scornfully look you up and down, as if scrutinizing a roach on the floor— you merely roll your eyes away from their gaze. one of them scoffs. the one holding your arm tightens his grip cruelly, forcing an involuntary wince out of you.

“dottore’s little lap dog.. agh s-shit-!“ he sneers, though barely as the last word rolls disdainfully off his tongue, searing rage shoots up your spine and into your trapped arm. it’s like a reflex you don’t control and you find enough strength to twist your arm in his grip and in return, grasping onto his throat tightly.

just like he did before, you continuously tighten your grip mercilessly, as the poor jackass still tries to find the time to react to your movement— choking on the air and desperately trying to suck air back into his throat.

“don’t you ever, ever, even fucking think of calling me that again, you-“ you snarl rabidly, as ice uncontrollably emanates from your hand and spreads onto the fatuus’ skin with a cruel hiss. he immediately tries recoil away from you, pained gasp struggling to leave his throat. as if feeling the icy sting yourself, you recoil away from him, finally awaking from your sudden fit of anger.

you look down at your own hand— it looks foreign to you, like a hand that would hurt some, while douchey, blameless fool isn’t a hand that would belong to you. cryo energy still buzzes under your skin and leaves the muscles in your palm slightly spasming. turning back up toward the two fatui, they look at you incredulously, sneering at you like you’re a rabid animal that briefly lost control.

you feel utterly suffocated.

vision spotting and ears ringing, your feet take you far from the infirmary hallway before you even realize. when you feel like you’ve composed yourself enough, you look around to realize you’ve ended up at the administrative center of the fortress— it’s barren of people and deafeningly silent, sparing the ever-present hum of machinery that emanates dully from every corner of this prison, likely due to the fact that most inmates had already gone back to their quarters to rest at this time of day. you merely stand there, taking in the sheer emptiness of the floor and letting the sound of your own heartbeat thrum inside your ears without a certain course of action.

your eyes wander around aimlessly and eventually, land on the elevator that leads down to the pankration ring. you’d never given the ring much thought, as it seemed like nothing you’d ever want to engage in simply by your nature. but then again… choking someone with your bare hand wasn’t something of your nature, but you still did it. perhaps a more, let’s say, active way to cool your nerves doesn’t sound so bad after all. you didn’t even realize you had nerves to tend to in the first place, but it’s not like being in prison is a fucking cake walk.

you space out as the elevator starts descending to the pankration ring, mind filling with plans of what else you had or could do in the fortress tomorrow to investigate childe’s disappearance. you think of places to go and people to talk to as you absentmindedly step off the elevator and into the ring— barely paying attention to the obscenely obvious other presence inside. a particularly heavy thud, like a hard punch, is what snaps back to reality and your chest seems to stutter, stunned at the sight.

it’s him.

wriothesley, the duke of meropide, throwing the most ruthless of hits against the poor, beaten-down dummy inside the boxing ring at the center of the room. he moves and swings like a professional boxer, body fully and utterly committed to the practice— so much so that he doesn’t even notice you, facial expression intense and focused.

his back is slightly faced toward you and it’s only then that you realize that he’s fucking shirtless. rippling, shifting muscles compose his back, decorated with various scars and twinkling beads of sweat. you’re ashamed to admit that you find yourself entranced by the sight. and so you won’t admit it. before you allow your jaw to drop too low at what’s before you, you shake your shoulders as if to brush away your fluster— the fluttering sound of your clothes is impossibly quiet… yet the duke seems to hear it from where he stands inside the ring and pauses his task abruptly.

he turns around and the way he shifts is almost in slow motion. wriothesley prepares a hardened face to show to whoever has dared to interrupt his private training session but the moment it actually lands on your figure, his entire body seems to soften in its resolve. you hate that the relaxation of his muscles is heavily accentuated and highlighted by the light that hangs over the boxing ring.

“y/n! …i must say, i really did not expect to find you here.” wriothesley chuckles breathlessly, eyes twinkling with pleased surprise.

you despise how heavily he pants from exhaustion and how you can’t seem to stop watching him do so. it’s a miracle that your scattered mind actually remembers that you had agreed to meet him for tea, which as seen by the late hours of night, did not happen. what is wrong with you today?

you choke on nothing and clear your throat to mask your lack of composure. “ah-! y-yes uhm… to be honest, i never expected to ever want to come to the pankration ring either but-“

the image of the terrified fatuus shivering beneath your hand flashes punishingly bright behind your eyes.

“-but i guess i might as well try it out while i’m here.” your smile is forced.

regardless of whether or not wriothesley notices that, he flashes you a warm smile and extends a welcoming hand. you reluctantly step up the stairs and inside the ring, feeling immediately out of element. you idiot, why did you even agree to this? why did you even think it was a good idea before coming down here? yes, you know how to fight in combat but you’re not… a fighter.

you fight if you must but you don’t resort to violence arbitrarily… at least, you didn’t. the duke, as if sensing your turmoil, puts a well-timed comforting hand on your tense shoulder as his other one encouragingly holds out a roll of hand wrap.

“hey, even if this isn’t usually your cup of tea,” he jests, obviously not taking your ‘ditch’ to his invite to heart— you still feel guilty about it. “you should still try to relieve whatever tension you have. and it seems like you’ve got enough tension to bring you all the way down here.”

he’s so… friendly. you don’t even know what you’ve done to deserve such lighthearted familiarity from someone like the literal warden of the prison you’re locked in. even as you struggle to wrap the hand wraps properly, wriothesley offers to help without a thought. like he’s known you for years— like it’s no problem that he’s still fucking shirtless in front of you. you feel dizzy.

the duke doesn’t even ask if you know how to fight or not, your unspoken sergeant title answers his unspoken question. he merely watches as you swing experimentally at the dummy, pausing periodically to allow your knuckles to throb and hum silently with each strike against the tough, worn surface of the dummy. eventually, you pause less often, you hit faster and harder, you stop thinking about your next swing. subconsciously, your face adopt the same intense expression you’d seen wriothesley wear when you arrived and your teeth grit with animalistic instinct.

it’s nearly an out-of-body experience, you barely realize what you’re doing and just relish in the way the strain in your arms and the sting in your knuckles turns into an electric rush. you don’t even focus on why you were stressed in the first place— the fact that you’re in prison, the workload, the investigation, the two fatui stooges you encountered today, childe’s disappearance… even wriothesley seems to disappear from view despite being palpably present and shamelessly intrigued by your commitment. you might even allow yourself to admit that you’re enjoying this, that you maybe just a little bit understand why childe loves this so fervently. now that you think about it, you’re 1000% sure that childe spent most of his free time in the prison absolutely demolishing the scoreboard at the pankration ring— you chuckle mentally at that image. unfortunately, that’s all the amusement your brain allows you to have before you’re overcome with anguish as you’re reminded of the fact that childe is still missing. at this point in your life, you’re certain you’ll grow grey hairs at a ridiculously young age from the sheer stress that childe unintentionally brings you.

it seems that you cannot spare even a single breath where you’re not worrying over him. worrying over his whereabouts, his health, his utter lack of self-preservation or limitation, his thirst for battle… his dizzyingly beautiful eyes, his endearing freckles, his breathtaking battle scars, his hearty laughter… his suffocating proximity to you when you were patching up his injuries in the hotel bathro—

“woah, y/n! h-hold on!” wriothesley calls out and suddenly you’re back at the pankration ring, except now the dummy in front of you has brand new fist-shaped bloodstains and your knuckles hurt like fucking hell.

as your chest heaves up and down intensely with desperation to regulate your breathing, your heart hammering like never before, the duke approaches your stunned figure with caution. he gently takes one of your aching hands in his to inspect it, feathery touches over your knuckles. after the train of thought you had gotten into, wriothesley’s gesture leaves the butterflies in your stomach utterly confused and fluttering as if they’re short-circuiting, your brain in the same state.

you might pass out.

within two blinks, your surroundings have warped into a familiar office and a teacup is placed in front of you.

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

[mistresswriter19]

~ Until You Take Your Last Breath ~

Dr. Masacrik X Reader

A Psychocuties Fanfic

~ Pt 7~

Author's Note: Hello dearest readers I am coming back beyond the grave with more chapters coming you're way. Really appreciate the patience I have alot to tell for this fanfic and more lore learning about the world of Psychocuties and little reminder lots of mature audiences themes are coming away so your welcome to read but if you're uncomfortable fill free to read something else or different chapters. I'm really stoked that many enjoy this story and I promise create more~ reblogs, comments, are much appreciated!

Alright enjoy ^^

~ Chapter 7 ~

You eventually used to live in Russia but ever since the incident falling between you and your “ only “ friend Masacrik. It wasn't the same and your parents didn't feel safe in Russia anymore. You still care for them but they attend to being very pushy asking what you are going to be doing in your life. You were barely finishing high school but dropped out and yes they were disappointed. What you need to focus on is your mental health and try not to let those memories sink in. You had a vision of working in a company dealing with office work and meeting Masacrik again but you knew that wasn't true. For the record, why were you still thinking about him?

Y/N: Mom, Dad… I'm going back to Russia…

Parents: WHAT!?

Y/N: I need to find something there that I used to be doing. The C/N has been a true comfort but this isn't really my home…

M/N: We sacrifice a lot for you and now you just want to go back!?

D/N: Do you have no idea what the hell you're going to get yourself through!?

Y/N: This is why I can't talk to you guys about “ ANYTHING”!

M/N: Y/N!

Y/N: NO….I HAD IT…. You two don't really understand me… I try to be “ THE GOOD GIRL “ you want me to be, I obeyed, listen to your views, but what has that brought upon me. I don't have friends, you don't let me go out on my own, you don't care about my therapy thinking I'm crazy. YOU TWO ARE CONTROL FREAKS!!!

For the moment after finally standing up for yourself you felt a slap on your cheek making you fall on the ground as your mother looked in horror as if you were about to have a panic attack, felt disappointment and hurt what you have said to them. You couldn't take it anymore and wanted to start your own story with them not around .

You're father has too much anger building up inside but he then regret what he just did. You had tears fall down your eyes and ran up stairs locking the door falling on the bed screaming in pain until calm down a few mintues later.

Y/N: I can't do this anymore….

Laying back in bed with your legs up in the air against the bed frame most of the time you would read books from Russia that were considered a violation in that state. One of them kept you on your toes and bit your red lip of how good yet very grim writing one of them was called “ Lolita”.

Eventually falling asleep with a book in hand. The next day it was time to make the move, having your luggage in hand and using a taxi even though you're a starting adult it was still difficult to manage reality and its expectations. Your Mom and Dad eventually came to say one last goodbye and felt guilty from yesterday's spiral. You didn't want to be near them or bother but there your mother and father there blood…. You sigh turning back to them.

Y/N's Dad: We're not proud of the decisions you're making going back to the badlands your mother and I planned to escape for years but if that makes you feel like your home again. I can't stop you but promise me you'll write to us and let us know that you're safe….

Y/N: You two don’t have to worry or deal with me anymore, I’ll be okay.

With that said your parents both hugged you but you know deep down they were the kind of people who have a hard time warming up to others. Half of your innocence was taken by their “ Discipline Methods” leading to the point of breaking your true spirit facing the cruel world you attend to face. From taxi and hours in the plane you finally made it to Russia however you weren’t sure if you had access to your home, after hours of vomiting your brains out, the amount of tears pour down your face from your true emotions kicking for being alone, and hours flipping pages of your book you manage to settled down in a suite hotel.

Y/N: Just until I get my head straight and rest need..lots of rest.

You enter the suite it was pretty old fashion with the warm colors around the hall shades of red, orange,yellow and a dash of pink felt like walking into a art museum as you went to the front counter signing your name and have a hold of your temporary key, heading up the stairs and opening your door luggage on the floor as you manage to fluff pillow and lay your body all the way down, stretching your body and rest your eyes shut.

Rubbing your eyes you went down the stairs and went to explore the suite since you were not really in a rush to returning to your original house, fingers tapping the yellow concrete texture walls, shoes dragged when you hit a few carpets near different doors then that’s what curiosity got the best out of you. You leaned forward and saw a few plants and on top of that an elevator, then you looked near the hallways that seemed pretty dimmed and not much which felt strange since the only attention seeking was the elevator. Seems like any elevator that most people attend to hop on but what was uncertain for you was the hearts drawn on each line of the doors. Looking at the levels 1234567891011 as you take a step back, eyes leaning to the button had a red heart. What does this all mean to you? Your pressed your finger onto the heart as the elevator attempt to shaking along with your heart for some reason going in a presto chase making you breath heavy and face flushed keeping yourself together it felt like a roller coaster but so some reason you remember someone from the past but who was it if you heart just reacted.

Suddenly the elevator doors open as your hands folded your eyes were mesmerized with a very tall man wearing a bellboy vest, red hair, two strains out of place, red eyes seem that he was high or had lack of sleep but he grinned as your placing his hand on his chest and leans in your personal space as you raised on eyebrow. Then, Elevator Man extends his hand as a little greeting with the never ending grin he had on his face being hesitant you slowly place the palm of your hand that is until he swings you close to him and his gloved hand giving your rear a squeeze as you blushed from this unwanted attention with the elevator hand holding against your flushed cheeks but you had a vision wasn’t sure if this was you imaging things or it could be a hence warning for the next chapter. Instead of a bellboy vest uniform he was wearing a doctor coat and you were wearing a set of cat ears, dead skin along with a large collar seeming more like that you were a pet. You blinked again and everything was back to normal. For some reason you were confused but also trying to think for a moment that you swear you have seen this man before the little boy version of him.

You look back seeing Elevator Man with a part of his lap with hand . He looked at you with that Perverted grin as he snapped his fingers. For some reason you end up teleported onto his lap, your face flushed and annoyed at the same time. Your dress rolled up a little revealing more of your legs. As Elevator Man rest one hand close to his chin he couldn't help but check you out as you wince and turn the other way not knowing he pulled something behind your ear which was a scribbled cloud of fear making you feel blue and eyes watered as you attend to feel helpless at this point you felt Elevator Man hand on your cheek with his tongue gently licking your tears away.

Masacrik knew deep down it was you but he couldn't help realize how much you grew, how much he wanted to take and devour. He remembers you when you were small, innocent and filled with joy but something happened to make you change Masacrik to chuckle to himself thinking that he caused this and it pleased him. As the elevator goes to who knows when Elevator Man smiles looking how you were as he places a hand on your back making you grasp your hands on his chest annoyed you couldn't take it anymore as you raised your fits and immediately “ POW” hitting a few teeth and breaking part of his nose. Then you kicked him in the balls with your leg as he had his tongue out and went dizzy with the elevator ding you immediately hopped off and started to run down the stairs body painting as you felt like you were in danger encountering that man.

You made it back to your room you were staying in the suite hotel placing the pillow above your hear as you attend feeling your body tense.

You had a vision of yourself back that elevator face flushed as you felt your body onto Elevator Man's lap as he lean in trailing kisses around your neck, founding your chest, and rolling up your dress taking a good whiff of you making you whimper.

Elevator Man: You want me ~ and I seriously want you too~

He said while continuing leaving his marks around you tears down your eyes seeing that this is wrong you would never comply with this but how could he get you? You felt a wave of arousal hitting when he smiled finding out what you really wanted.

Elevator Man: Just give in to me dear promise I'll make this a “ ride of your life “~

You open your eyes and breathe heavily. Did you just have an intimate dream to that elevator Man who was nearly close to touching you!?

That smile worse than a creepy looking clown, those Crimson blood drop eyes something inhuman, those hands attending to pull you close and vein popping from the aggressive side and he didn't say a word all he did was toy with you. Would you see him again or the question is why was he like this. Why couldn't you stop thinking about him deep inside you feel his appearance staring down at you that Perverted grin you'll never forget. Maybe sleeping it off will make it go away.

Was it really safe to return home?

~End Of Chapter ~

[alkaline-wtr]

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 7 - -

Ghost x reader

Description: Graves and reader run into a familiar group of survivors on their search for the sanctuary. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Graves x reader, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader,angst, explicit language, weapons, mentions of death, gore, blood, and violence. WC: 3.4k

My Masterlist

** Wow, where to start... I'M SORRY... I lost motivation to write for a bit. My cat passed away which completely halted anything that wasn't absolutely necessary for my survival. So, yeah... the chapter is really late. I've been awaiting this chapter for so long because, I included one of my favorite Soap quotes that lives in my head rent free. Which I've pretty much been planning to do since chapter one, lol. It took a different direction than I originally planned but, I think it's still a decent one! It's also a longer one so, hopefully that'll make up for my hiatus. I already have plans for the ending. So, the story may not be much longer but, I am leaving the journey to the ending open and am just feeling it out as I go. Lastly, Ghost girlies please do not panic!! I know the Graves fluff seems scary right now but, I promise it isn't what it seems. Enjoy.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please, let me know.

<< PART 1 / << PART 6

The dull morning sun seeps through the windshield, and you stretch out, back stiff from being curled up on the seat all night.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,”

Phillip said in his typical cheery tone. The endearing nickname causes a small smile to form on your face.

You sit up with a yawn.

“You should get out and stretch your legs a bit, we’ll be doing a lot more driving today.”

You glanced at Phillip's lap. In it was the crumpled map the man had given you yesterday.

You couldn’t seem to get the images out of your head, the gushing of blood from his wife’s body as the infected broke her skin with their jagged teeth. The man’s glassy eyes looked up to the heavens as he held the gun to his temple.

You squeezed your eyes closed and pinched the bridge of your nose to expel the memories. Was that just the fate of everyone who manages to survive this world? Watching everyone you love torn, unforgivingly, to pieces until there is nothing left for you to do but take your own life?

“Do you really think there's a sanctuary?”

You ask. Although you didn't feel like talking, you hoped that starting up a conversation would redirect your thoughts. You were in much need of a distraction after the events of yesterday. Phillip scans the map.

“I think... It’s possible. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to go. Right?”

The question seemed genuine as if Phillip wanted to know if you had anywhere in mind. You considered it for a moment. Was there anywhere you'd want to go? With the state of the world traveling for pleasure just seemed pointless. At least heading to the sanctuary, bullshit or not, is better than an aimless trip to nowhere.

“No. I guess you're right.”

You respond softly. He sighs looking ahead for a moment almost as if contemplating his own suggestion. You wondered if Phillip had the same nagging sense of hope about this place as you did. As much as you wanted to dismiss the thought of some actual good coming from such tragedy, it was in your nature as people to cling to the curiosity.

“Well… let’s get some food in us, stretch our legs, and then we’ll be on our way.”

The way he spoke it seemed so obvious. Like you were just a couple friends on a casual road trip. You couldn’t quite decide if you liked that about Phillip. His attempts at making the day-to-day feel like it had been, were appreciated. It wasn’t wrong to enjoy these slower moments, it was just the reality setting in that made it feel unacceptable. The truth was, things would never return to how they were, and it was hard to feel like you were allowed to still enjoy life despite that fact.

You sat on the open tailgate drinking a can of chunky soup. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but you certainly missed your microwave.

Phillip ate in silence, his focus fixed on the map as he planned the route ahead.

The next hours were quiet again. The engine lightly vibrated through the truck as you watched out the window. You'd almost wished you could stop at a library and stock up on books. Really anything to stimulate your mind. Without it, there was nothing to shoo away the thoughts that crept in reminding you of the ruin and suffering. You guessed that had never really changed from the world before.

But, even with books, there was nothing that could distract you enough from the heavy feeling in your stomach. Like the weight of the world was anchoring you to this tired state. You were torn from your thoughts when Phillip spoke.

"What the hell."

Phillip muttered to himself. You lifted your head, straightening up to look at whatever it was Phillip had seen. Your chest tightened in both anxiety and excitement at the sight of people. Survivors, three of them.

Of all the weeks you'd spent walking through empty streets focused on nothing but survival, this one had proved that there were more survivors than you'd thought.

Phillip slowed, and you began to get nervous. In a world where every encounter could mean life or death, trusting strangers was a gamble, and one you weren't so lucky with. Yet, Phillip didn't seem worried.

So far, most encounters you'd had with others since the outbreak were unpleasant but, Phillip gave you hope. His actions and personality were a stark contrast from those, and if against all odds, you'd found one good person, then there had to be more. Maybe these three men on the side of the road were some of them.  

"Well, look who we have here,"

Phillip says, rolling the window down with a cocky smile. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned through it. The three take a defensive stance. As would anyone in their situation. It takes them a moment, they're all clearly on high alert as they eye the truck. Finally, a sense of recognition sets in, and one of them scowls.

"Graves? What the fuck!"

He exclaimed in an accent that sounded like it could be Scottish. Graves? Right. That's Phillip... But how do they know him? Who are these people?

"What's going on?"

You asked as he parked the truck. Phillip didn't even bother to answer you as he got out, a wide smile plastered on his face. The men, however, didn't seem to be as glad as he was to see him.

Hesitantly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out too, torn between following him or staying back.

There was an air of hostility and anger from the men. They all seemed to be strong and fit. Not that Phillip wasn't as well, but if it came down to it, you were outnumbered, and your few hours of target practice weren't going to mean anything if these men pulled weapons.

As your feet reached the pavement you took a deep breath. This probably wasn't a good idea but, if he seemed comfortable enough with them you shouldn't worry too much, should you?

"I can't believe it."

He laughs. His hands going to rest on his hips.

"1-4-1. As I live and breathe. How're ya holding up Captain?"

Phillip reaches out a hand enthusiastically in an attempt to shake hands with one of the men. You observe the interaction from the other side of the truck. Not yet sure if you wanted to find your way to Phillips's side.

The man he'd referred to as 'Captain' keeps his stance. Head tilted, chest puffed out, fingers intertwined and resting in front of him. Judging by his angry expression, he didn't seem like one for pleasantries.

"What do you want?"

The angry Scottish one says stepping forward with an aggressive snarl. Was he looking for a fight?

You glanced to the truck where your bag was debating whether or not you should arm yourself. On one hand, you wanted to be prepared if things went south. Though, no one had them out they still had quicker access to their weapons than you or Phillip.

Ultimately, you decided against it trusting Phillip to de-escalate to situation with his charismatic nature. Besides, if you were to reach for a gun now it would only give them more reason to take the defensive.

"Stand down Soap."

The captain says. His sultry British tone contrasted the unapproachable demeanor.

The third man between them just stood tall. His expression is unreadable behind the sunglasses and baseball cap he had on. Based on the tension alone you could assume it wasn't a pleasant one either.

Phillip throws his hands up in defense, his smile never wavering despite the surrounding hostility. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Look fellas, I know we've had our disagreements but, this is a dog-eat-dog world, and you know just as well as I do Captain, that there is strength in numbers... Let's help each other out here."

Although you'd always been aware of Phillips's arrogance, this was the most you'd seen it in action. You weren't even sure what Phillip could possibly need from these men anyway. You had a truck, gas, food, and water. As far as you were concerned you were rich in this fight for survival.

"Right... Disagreements."

The Scotsman scoffed. Soap. You thought, committing the name to memory. It was the best you could do to piece together the relationship between the four.

"Seems you're missin' one. Where's Ghost?"

Phillip asks the men. Everyone stiffened, followed by a tense silence. Soap's angry demeanor mixed with a hint of sorrow.

"Don't know."

The captain responds.

You felt a tightness in your chest. Had you heard them correctly? Ghost... There had only ever been one man you'd known to go by a name like that, it had to be the same one, right? I mean what are the chances of multiple people on the same continent being named something so obscure? Especially with the global population being at an all-time low.

Considering the hostility, you were a little scared to speak up. Though, clearly Ghost was someone of importance to these men and if you could offer them information maybe they would be more welcoming to the pair of you.

"D-did you say Ghost?"

You asked, feeling embarrassed as everyone turned their attention to you.

"Like... Tall, mask, not much of a people person..."

You continued a hint of annoyance coating your words. All eyes remained on you and even Phillip looked at you with a hint of surprise. Your attempt to ease the tension seemingly failed.

"You know him?"

The man in the glasses spoke up.

You nod. Maybe not as much of a failure as you thought?

"He was with me... well, only for a bit. He left."

This piqued Soap's interest the most of the three men. The captain steps forward dropping his arms to his sides.

"How long ago did you last see him?"

You shrugged.

"Maybe about 3 days ago?"

The men all share surprised glances.

"Holy... He's alive."

Soap mutters. Okay, tension eased. You look at Phillip for confirmation. His eyes are on you, a hint of questioning behind them. Had he known who Ghost was this entire time?

You silently cursed yourself for not mentioning him sooner.

"Where is he?"

The captain asked you desperately.

"He... I'm not sure. We were in a suburban area just outside the city. That's where he left me."

Soap's movements were animated as he turned away with a frustrated sigh, one hand resting on his hip while the other dragged across his stubble.

Judging by that reaction the tension was back.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

You say starting to feel guilty for even bringing it up now. The captain raises his palm, almost as a gesture of thanks, acknowledging that the information was appreciated before turning to Soap.

"Alright, alright."

The captain says trying to soothe the obviously irritable Scott.

"We know he's alive. So..."

His words trail off, but you can see the cogwheels in his head turning.

"We'll set up camp for the night. In the morning a couple of us will head back to the city and look for him."

Soap nods.

"Aye, I'll go."

The captain shakes his head.

"You'll stay here with the girl. Gaz and I will drive out with Graves."

"Are ye kidding me?!"

Soap exclaimed clearly not happy about that plan.

"Cap you aren't really trusting Graves on this are you?"

The man in the sunglasses finally speaks. His tone remains skeptical.

"I mean come on Price, after everything you really think Graves is going to be any help to us?"

Price. That must be the captain, the man in charge. What did he mean though 'after everything?' What kind of history does Phillip have with them? Why are they so angry and distrustful? And most importantly, why are you the only one who isn't?

"No Gaz. I don't. That's why he's going with us. So, we can keep an eye on him."

Price says coldly. There was a lot of unspoken anger radiating in the air, and it was all directed at one man. You side-eyed Phillip cautiously. Whatever he'd done to them must have been bad if this was their reaction. Until you figured it out maybe it was best if you stayed more alert around him too.

But wait... No. He'd never been anything but kind to you. He helped you when Ghost left. He did more to help you than Ghost had even considered and in less time.

"I'm right here you know."

Phillip interjects in his usual smart-ass way. His voice broke you from your thoughts and you shoot him a look. One that says, 'Stop poking the bear'. Clearly, these men weren't fond of him, and considering you were his company, they may feel inclined to attach the same disdain to you.

"You shut up!"

Soap growled stepping towards Graves daringly.

Price slaps a hand to his broad chest to hold him back.

"Let's just focus right now on finding Ghost. We get off this road, rest, and make a plan after."

Price's voice remains calm and authoritative as he tries to reel in Soap's whirlwind of emotions. He glanced around, his eyebrow raised as if half-excepting someone to object. When no one does, he nods to Soap, who's still death glaring Phillip.

"Alright then. Let's go."

By sundown, Phillip is backing the truck between a couple trees. Enough to keep it concealed but, leaving space in case we have to leave in a hurry. The engine shuts off abruptly and he gets out sighing as he stands beside you leaning against the trunk of the tree you were sitting under. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the three men convene around a small fire pit.

"Philip?"

Your soft voice cut through the tense silence.

He keeps his eyes trained forward and doesn't respond but, somehow you knew you had his attention.

"How do you know them? And why do they... hate you so much?"

Your voice faltered at the end. Hopefully, it wasn't a sore subject but, by the longing gaze he gave the trio, your hope fell short.

He takes a moment to find his words before turning to you.

"I've worked with Captain Prices team before. Let's just say... we had a difference in opinion when it came to directing our teams and following orders."

You stayed quiet expecting him to continue but, it seemed that that was as much explanation as you would get.

Phillip pushes off the tree and reaches out to help you up.

"Come on. Let's eat."

The rest of the evening was awkward, to say the least. You sat off to the side with Graves while Price and Gaz went over a map likely planning out their search for Ghost. Soap shot Graves glares every so often from across the fire.

"Looks like he wants to kill you or something."

You mutter looking down at your feet. The sound of Phillip's knife cutting into a tin soup can sent a shiver through you. You scrunch your nose in disgust, practically tasting the metal with each high-pitched scrape.

"Yeah, well... He' s probably imagining a hundred different ways he could."

Phillip says handing you the open can. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment. More soup? Great...  

As Phillip reached for another can he glanced over at Soap catching his eye. Smiling in amusement. He seemed unbothered by the situation perhaps even enjoying how he was getting under Soaps skin.

"Should I be worried about being here alone with him tomorrow?"

Phillip shakes his head as he opens his own can.

"Soap is one of the good ones... one of the best. Besides, their feelings are mine to shoulder."

You nod glancing over at them. Soap is now turned to Price as he speaks to his team. It was strange to you how Phillip was brushing off the tension between him and the men. Even the way he spoke about Soap despite his malice. He was choosing to see the good in them and it was clear he held Price in high regards. That was the trait of a much more likable man than the three were making him out to be.

But the question still stands, if Phillip respects Price and his team so much, then why do they hold so much hatred towards him? What is it that you aren't seeing?

The next morning everyone was up early packing for their trip back to the city. Soap was still adamant about helping search for Ghost. He didn't seem to be the type who enjoyed sitting back while everyone else got in on the action.

"I know you, Johnny. And right now, your energy is best directed elsewhere. So, you'll stay here and watch the girl while we search for Ghost. That's final."

Soap opens his mouth to object but is halted with one last look from Price. He had had enough arguing. Soap seemed eager for Ghost's return. You wondered how you would feel if they really did find him. How would it be to face the man who abandoned you after promising his help?

You had a lot of things to say to him but, you weren't holding your breath. From what you'd seen Ghost was a difficult man to find and after three days who knows where he could be by now.

You stood a couple feet away your arms crossed over your body in a self-soothing manner. You push away the thought of Ghost and stuff down the rising anger, as you look back at Phillip.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Phillip would be gone, and he was asking you to trust a stranger, one who proved to be nothing but, angry, argumentative, and borderline murderous.

Phillip swung his bag through the open truck window before walking over to you. He tilted his head sympathetically; you might as well have had your feelings tattooed on your forehead with how easily he read you.

"You'll be alright. We'll only be gone a couple days."

Phillip's hands come to your shoulders in reassurance. You nod looking over at the men. Gaz climbs into the truck finding his place in the middle of the front seat while Price stands on the driver's side giving his last instructions to Soap.

"Hey."

Phillip says attempting to gain your attention again. Your eyes snap back to him.

"We'll be fine. Just hang out here, rest for a bit and before you know it, I'll be back. And when I am we'll search the map for somewhere cool to go, huh?"

You couldn't help but smile at that. Phillip was good at remaining optimistic. He made things easy.

You didn't know him well and may have only just met days prior but, you have come to care for him. Even enough to consider him a friend. Which is important in a world like this.

Despite this, you still couldn't calm the gnawing pit of anxiety in your stomach.

"What about the sanctuary?"

You ask hugging your arms tighter to your chest.

"If there really is a sanctuary, it's not going anywhere. So, we can afford to take a couple detours for adventure, right?"

You only smile in return. Phillip was right. What was the point in rushing towards something that wasn't even guaranteed?

"Come on, sweetheart."

Phillip says pulling you into a hug. His chin rests on the top of your head.

"Don't declare me dead just yet."

He jokes. You returned the hug loosely. The affection was new to you but not unwelcome. After a few moments, the sound of the truck horn beeps shortly, and he pulls away. Price starts up the truck from his place in the driver's seat. His elbow resting through the opened window. Soap steps back and glances at Phillip as well still glaring daggers at him.

"Duty calls."

Phillip mumbles and you chuckle in response. He turns away his hand lingering on your shoulder as long as his arm's length would allow as he heads to the passenger side.

Your anxiety tightened its hold on you. Soap was here so, no matter the outcome, you wouldn't be alone. But what was company if you didn't trust them? If they didn't make you feel safe? Somehow the thought of that scared you even more. The worry settled deep in your chest. If Phillip didn't return, you would just be abandoned once again.

PART 8 >>

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[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 3 - One Step Up

*Door opens*

Kumon: We’re back~!

Juza: We’re home.

Taichi: I’m starving~.

Tenma: Looks like Omi-san’s in charge of dinner tonight.

Tsuzuru: Smells like it’s something with a demi-glace sauce…

Omi: The beef stew will be ready soon.

Kumon: Woo~! I was hoping to eat some meat~!

Kazunari: The Yosei Uni Gang’s really building up their forces~.

Muku: Kyu-chan’s the only new one, though.

Yuki: But he’s got the presence of about two or three people.

Tsumugi: How’s college life been going, Kumon-kun?

Kumon: It’s super interesting! Unlike with my classes in high school, I actually feel motivated to study on my own.

Kumon: Plus I get to be with Nii-chan!

Banri: I figured you had had that planned from the start, but you actually didn’t decide on where you were gonna go for school until much later, right?

Kumon: Hey, I thought about it a lot, y’know.

Kumon: And I didn’t just think about Nii-chan, I also made sure to think about the best college for me to go to.

Azami: The growth of someone with a brother complex.

Yuki: They still ended up at the same college, though.

Kumon: That’s ‘cause Nii-chan and Tenma-san seemed like they really liked it there!

Tenma: Well, you are right about that.

Juza: Glad ya got accepted in.

Taichi: You’ve been doing great with writing essays and doing job interview prep~.

Kumon: Hehe. That’s thanks to you, Nii-chan, and Tenma-san for teaching me so much!

Chikage: It’s so touching to see Tenma becoming the tutor.

Tenma: Thanks for that.

Kazunari: Yawn~…

Tsuzuru: You seem tired, Miyoshi-san.

Kazunari: I had a deadline for some urgent work yesterday. Hardly got any sleep~.

Tsuzuru: Good work.

Muku: You suddenly seem like much more of an adult, Kazu-kun.

Kazunari: What I do is kinda just an extension of what I did in college, but once that label of “student” is gone, it makes you a little more conscious of it.

Omi: It’s a lot of work and responsibility, but it’s also a lot of fun.

Tsuzuru: Is that so…

Kazunari: You’ll get what we’re talking about in a year, Tsuzurun~.

Izumi: Omi-kun’s right, your impression of things changes once you graduate from college.

Azuma: I enjoy seeing these changes every year once spring comes.

Homare: Yes, however, there are still some of us that haven’t changed much at all.

Azuma: It’s thanks to everyone that spring is nice like this.

Tasuku: Well, even though some of us haven’t been through any major changes, I’m sure we’re all busy with something, right?

Guy: It appears that you’ve been getting more and more requests to do guest appearances, Takato.

Sakuya: Ah, actually, I’m about to get an offer to perform on a slightly bigger stage too--.

Tsumugi: Really? That’s great.

Tasuku: That’s probably the result of steadily building up your experience. Shows how much you’ve become recognized as an actor.

Sakuya: Thank you so much!

Citron: I have started getting pressured to do arts and culture-related work from all over the place~.

Itaru: And I’m still annoyed that I’m stuck being treated like some mid-level NPC…

Chikage: That’s normal for having worked there for five years.

Guy: Speaking of that, I’ve been entrusting Mikage with more work, too.

Hisoka: I know how to make a few appetizers now…

Tasuku: What, like toasted marshmallows and marshmallow pizza?

Hisoka: Well, yeah, but there’s other stuff too.

Homare: To be dabbling in dishes other than ones with marshmallows… that’s quite remarkable progress!

Misumi: Speaking of new things, my friend Mii-chan just had a litter of kitties~.

Muku: Congratulations!

Yuki: Why are you congratulating the Trianglien for it?

Izumi: Seems like everything’s going smoothly for the company while each of you is moving forward and changing in your own ways.

Izumi: That reminds me, the kid we met today also said he was going to be a new high school student starting in the spring.

Kumon: Huh~, what was he like?

Tsuzuru: He was an interesting one, for sure.

Masumi: He wasn’t interesting, he was annoying.

Itaru: He was an avid Masumi fan.

Izumi: He said he used to live in a rural area and that he’s been supporting us for quite some time via our streams.

Sakyo: Is that the power of MIZUNO Enterprises…?

Sakyo: We’ll have to keep up our efforts to reach an even wider audience.

Izumi: He said he was really looking forward to seeing one of our performances live.

Tasuku: There is just something different about seeing a play in person.

Sakuya: There really is. He was really looking forward to seeing it, so we’ll have to do our best not to disappoint.

Izumi: Ah, right! The idea came to me when we were talking to that kid, but--.

Izumi: How does a workshop aimed at beginners sound for the upcoming event?

Izumi: When I realized that people were interested in theater because of MANKAI Company’s performances, I thought that maybe promoting theater as a concept could be necessary too.

Izumi: And I think it’d be a good experience for us to share the joy of plays with them more directly and to have fun together.

Sakuya: That’s true, that could be a really good idea!

Citron: It sounds very fun!

Chikage: But wouldn’t people who have more experience with theater, like Tenma, Tasuku, or Tsumugi, be more suitable for teaching people than us Spring Troupe members?

Tsuzuru: He’s got a point, most of us are still pretty inexperienced actors. I mean, almost all of us were complete amateurs until a few years ago.

Masumi: I can do it.

Itaru: You’re probably the least qualified to teach.

Izumi: That’s the point. You all still feel like amateurs and remember how you felt when you first stepped on stage just a few years ago.

Izumi: I’m confident that you guys will be able to convey theater from a perspective that’s closer to a beginner’s.

Izumi: It’s not a workshop for actors, and it’s definitely not just for teaching like Yuzo-san’s workshops…

Izumi: I think it should be about just trying to enjoy theater together, just like if you were reminiscing about your old selves. That’s the best we can do, I think.

Izumi: And it could be an opportunity to expand our fan base too…

Izumi: I think it’s only because of how everyone is now that we can try to make people more aware of theater.

Sakuya: Yeah… I get it. Up until now, we’ve just been doing our best in regards to ourselves, but now…

Itaru: Exactly. Maybe we’ll be able to have some fun together.

Chikage: We could be our own motivation.

Tsuzuru: Maybe I’ll even be able to get a hint for our next play.

Citron: I will take on any challenge!

Izumi: Alright, it’s decided!

Izumi: Once the date is decided on, can you take care of the flier design, Kazunari-kun?

Kazunari: You betcha!

Izumi: I’ll take care of the printing and distributing myself then.

Masumi: I’ll help.

Itaru: We’ll also need an announcement on our social media, right? Leave it to me.

Chikage: It’d be a good idea to also put something on the theater noticeboard, right?

Izumi: Alright, I’ll leave all the announcement-related stuff to you two, and then… Sakuya-kun and Citron-kun, can I leave outlining the workshop to you guys?

Sakuya: Roger that!

Citron: We will think of an eggciting workshop that will eggcite everyone~!

Manager: Ah, everyo~ne, it’s almost time~!

Kumon: We gotta turn on the TV!

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt2

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Part 1

I am posting this at almost 1am AND I have to get up early tomorrow to do work for class before the actual class haha I plan my time accordingly

I was going to make this chapter longer. I had an idea and I started to write it, but it just wasn't coming out like I wanted it to (bc I'm writing at 12am duh) so I'm gonna put that in another chapter

Warnings: mentions of torture, trauma, hints of paranoia, hints of self-deprecation

Word Count: 1,390

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

After a grueling battle yesterday, you chose to give everyone a day off. It gave them time to rest aching muscles, repair and sharpen weapons, relax. It gave you a chance to bathe.

You didn't neglect your hygiene, but most of the time, once camp was set up, the sun would be dipping below the horizon. On those days, you'd run into the water, scrub the gunk out of your hair and get out, back to the safety of company before the first stars faded in. Now that you had the chance, you weren't going to squander it.

Once you were certain you were alone - an uncomfortable thought soothed only by the sun filtering in through the canopy above - you stripped down and waded into the water. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. You wasted no time scraping the dirt and blood off your skin.

Once you cleaned your body within an inch of its life, you ducked your head under the water and scrubbed at your hair and scalp. It was disgusting - you could only imagine the smell your companions had put up with this last week. You were just so happy you were clean. Your hair was smooth as water soaked it through, no knots or clumps of blood to be found. As you squeezed out the excess water, you caught your reflection between the ripples. In moments where it stilled enough, you could see the scar on your neck. It was still deep and prominent, but it was beginning to heal. It'd never healed before.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You nearly shrieked when you turned, sinking into the water up to your neck for protection. Astarion chuckled at your reaction.

"Would it kill you to stop sneaking up on me?"

"I was practically stomping like an ogre, dear, it's hardly my fault you weren't paying attention." You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. It was your fault you let your guard down. In the day, you were safe from (most) vampires, but there were any number of things ready to attack at any moment. "Mind if I join you?"

You shake your head, but you're already wading to shore to grab your clothes. "No, go ahead. I'm done."

"Leaving already?" You nod, not making eye contact. "I won't look, darling, if that's what's got you so flustered."

You pause mid reach for your shirt as he removes his, placing it haphazardly on a rock by the water's edge. His pants came next and you looked away until you heard the water sloshing around him.

"Though, I don't mind if you look," he teased, sparing one last glance over his shoulder before he got to work cleaning himself.

Gods, if he could hear the way your heart raced... You peek over, just a glance, before you look back at your clothes. But then you're looking again.

An intricate scar of circles, lines, and curved symbols marred his back. You feel your throat close just looking at it. You'd been forced to watch spawn and slaves alike punished by the cracking of a whip. Forced to keep your eyes forward by a hand on your jaw as the leather snapped and tore into their skin. This was worse. This was deliberate.

"Did..." You swallow, forcing your voice not to crack with the sorrow you felt for him. "Did your master do this?"

He hummed, continuing to wash his arms as though you'd asked him about the weather. The only hint it bothered him at all was the way his muscles tensed and the disdain in his voice. "Cazador," he spat. "He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas." His movements slowed to a stop. "He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made... a lot of revisions as he went."

You couldn't stop staring. Your mind kept replaying the torture you witnessed, but it replaced their cries with Astarion's voice. You hated to be so lucky. To be so fortunate that your master wanted you to look absolutely perfect and unmarked. You never received physical punishment. You were too precious.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, shakily. "If I could, I'd..." What? Remove the markings forever? Take away his pain and suffering? Go back and change everything so he never had to be a puppet? You couldn't do anything. You can't help. You can't remove that pain. All you can do is witness the aftermath.

He sighed and ducked his head so he could wash his hair. Drops of water slid down his back, only drawing your eyes in further. “It won’t matter when we get to Baldur’s Gate. I’m going to kill that bastard for everything he did to me.”

You know you should leave. Put on your clothes and slink away. But… being around Astarion isn’t entirely unpleasant. You’re still a little scared of him - of what he could do, but you trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t do those things. He probably understood your plight better than anyone else.

So, you slide down into the water until you’re resting on your knees in the silt. It doesn’t quite cover your neck unless you duck deeper in. You want to hide the scar, the damn mark showing everyone else who - or rather, what you belonged to. But it felt wrong to try hiding it when Astarion was fully showing you his.

“I never asked who your master was.” He turns his head slightly, eyes just barely catching sight of you. He did promise he wouldn’t look, after all. “Where she…” He waved a hand noncommittally and scowled. “Rules.”

Her eyes flash in your mind, wicked and burning. You almost flinch just thinking about them. When you speak her name, your voice trembles. “Kir Parthene. I… don’t remember where she lives. It’s been years since I’ve even been outside - I must have forgotten.”

He slowly turns, giving you time to tell him to turn back again, but you don’t. You watch him through a fog of memories. “How long were you enslaved?”

It’s harder to answer than you thought it would be. Time begins to blur when you can’t tell if it’s night or day, when everything is fuzzy and incoherent because you never had enough blood to think straight. Sometimes she’d feed and then leave you for days. Others, she never wanted to stop feeding - drinking from you morning and night before you ever got a chance to recover. You were a slave to her hunger - time never mattered.

“I was… 16 when I was taken.” You wrap your arms around yourself. Safe. “I don’t even remember home. My parents… I’m all alone.”

He’d never heard your voice so small before. You weren’t the most demanding leader, but you could still bark commands when things were getting rough. You even held yourself well in conversation, shutting down lopsided deals or uncomfortable topics with all the authority of a royal guard. It was easier, seeing you like this, to imagine your life in servitude. Meek and quiet.

“That’s not entirely true.” He kneeled in the silt a few feet from you, smirking. “You have us for as long as this adventure lasts, as long as we don’t transform into tentacled Mind Flayers.”

“And then after that?” He shifts uncomfortably at the question. “Everyone will go their separate ways, and when you do I’m a sitting duck. I’ll be captured again. Used again.”

You trail off, but the weight of your words sit heavy. You’ll never be free. You could help everyone else with their quests, help them free themselves from what ties them down, help them get stronger - but the same couldn’t be done for you. Without knowing where your master lives, there’s no way to seek her out and kill her, too.

The water is too cold now. The cool summer breeze only freezes you more. Astarion watches as you get up and slink back over to your clothes. He looks away before he can see anything you wouldn’t want him to. In no time at all, your clothes are back on and you’ve pulled on your boots. But before you walk away, you turn to him. Your eyes are so sad.

“Thank you. For… showing me.” He says nothing. So you head back to camp. Alone.

---

Tag List:

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@angelofthorr

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@aurasyn

[therentyoupay]

last night, i was reading a fic that started off incredibly well-written and compelling, and it had a lot of the elements i was craving in romantic storytelling yesterday (mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, etc.). by the time i reached the final chapter, i was already planning to download it and save it via EPUB, give kudos, leave a comment—and then i read something that gave me serious squick.

i tried scrolling down the page to skip it, but it went on for a long time, and even when the scene finished, i couldn’t ignore it, because it had become a considerable plot device in the story. i couldn’t finish reading the final chapter.

i scrolled back up to the tags and, sure enough, they had labeled it properly with an accurate tag, so either (a) i just hadn’t noticed it, or (b) perhaps i had seen it but had not realized that it would play such a significant part in the ending of the story. so what did i do? did i leave a comment, complaining to the author? no. did i leave a comment sharing my disappointment? no. did i leave a comment saying “i really liked this story until you wrote X?” no. did i still leave kudos? sure, for the 95% i did enjoy, even though maybe i could have done without. did i message the author and ask them to write an alternative ending? no. did i close out of the tab and find another fic i wanted to read instead? yes, eventually!

friendly reminder that reading fanfiction is about being a part of a community that you create with others, and engaging in an experience that you curate for yourself. 💕

[tozettastone]

🐌 💥 for the new year writers asks!

regarding this ask meme

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

I love this question. It's really interesting to think about small goals! I've got a couple of fics that I could finish just by adding one scene, I just have to go back and put it in. I would like to do that.

💥 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

ALWAYS. Haha. There are so many things I could share here. In terms of fanfic, I'm excited to finish the next Murakami Madeline story. It's planned out and I've been picking slowly away at it, but it's unfortunately pretty long, so it's taking some doing.

As for a snippet... here's this bit from Chapter 4 of Where The Heart Is, I think. It's Kakuzu and Maddie bonding over baby's first murder.

--

"...I don't run away from everything," [Maddie] mumbled, although, really, she kind of did. More than Kakuzu even knew, actually: she'd run away and hidden from everyone in her last life, too.

"You do," he contradicted her flatly. "Your instinct for self preservation is strong. And you have," he turned the body over to inspect the skull and just stuck his finger right into the spot where she'd stabbed it, "no interest in killing. You don't even like to watch."

"I'm not scared of killing." She hadn't known it until yesterday, but she really wasn't. [Character name redacted] had been a loser who knew he was a loser and got his rocks off intimidating women so he could feel less like a loser.

"Scared? Murder isn't scary." Kakuzu prodded the body, as if testing the integrity of its skin. "But it's unsightly."

And wasn't that the most accurate description of the process Maddie'd ever heard? It was not scary. It was not even really upsetting, provided you had the stomach for it. But it was uncomfortable and kinda gross.

"So?" he prompted.

Man, Kakuzu was like one of those heavy-jawed dogs you had to choke out to detach from your arm. Single minded, determined, intractable. Woof.

She pulled a face. "It was stupid. And, like, I knew it was stupid when I did it. I could have gotten myself killed. But I just... lost my temper."

Abruptly, Kakuzu looked up from the corpse.

It was deeply uncomfortable to be the sole recipient of Kakuzu's focused attention. He watched her, hard-eyed, face unreadable. He waited for her to explain.

She chewed her lip. "I guess, in that moment, I felt like it was ...worth it, as long as I got to hurt him."

Kakuzu watched her for another long, still second, and then he sighed. It was a deep and bizarrely human noise, drawn from deep in his chest.

"Your temper." Maddie could really see him hesitate. Then he said, "Yes. I see." Another pause. "...I do see."

[lainiespicewrites]

Electric Summer Ch 3.

AHHH I'm loving this story so much!!! Here's chapter 3! I couldn't stop writing this lol

Summary: Sy and Lainie get ready for the campers to arrive. Everyone gets to know each other. It's a perfect summer day until...the weather takes a turn.

warnings: light cursing.

Reblogs and comments ALWAYS welcome! Please let me know what you think!!

Link for Ch2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night I barely slept. Buzzing with all of the energy from the day. The adrenaline and excitement and the butterflies. All of it ran through me like a high I didn’t want to come off of. But still I was skeptical. Was this the universe at play or was it just a coincidence? No, it couldn’t be. Not when all of my emotions seemed to be even stronger in his presence. And as much as I’d like to deny it, I still thought about him often. I had tried to let all of this go. But it’s like he had this grip on me. Everytime I tried to go out with someone new or go on a date. Or let someone touch me. It felt like I was betraying him. I knew that wasn’t true. I know Sy. He never really wanted me to wait forever, I don’t think either of us ever thought we’d see each other again. And if I had seen someone or been with someone he’d never hold that against me. But I just couldn’t do it. 

At some point I must’ve drifted off to a restless sleep. My alarm woke me at 6:30AM. After our dip in the lake yesterday I definitely needed a shower. After a quick morning shower and getting ready for the day. In just some simple workout shorts and a t-shirt. It was supposed to get hot today. I decided to start working on decorations for the cabin before breakfast. I remember one year our counselor made signs with  our names on them to hang over whatever bunk we’d chosen. I loved that idea. 

I went through the roster becca had given me when I’d checked in yesterday and got to work carefully drawing each name and fun summer designs on each one. I wasn’t much of an artist but I was genuinely pretty impressed with myself. 

Then I started to hang the garland letters sign I made for our door. Each year camp has a theme. And our counselors would come up with a name for our group or our cabin before we got there. It was always fun guessing and anticipating what cabin we would get. This year’s theme was classic movies. I smiled proudly to myself as I taped the string to the door after checking one last time to make sure it was straight. We were the “Pink Ladies” I may have a serious obsession with the film Grease. 

I’d decided that if we were paired with one of the boys cabins we would be the pink ladies and I’d convince the boys counselor to be the T-birds. Luckily, Sy didn’t take much convincing. We talked about it yesterday before we started going over the icebreaker games. Although he did briefly try to change my mind and talked about the boys doing a “Top Gun” theme but he conceeded when I pouted. I made both our signs last night. After about an hour of trying to fall asleep I gave up and sat on the floor cutting the letters out of cardstock. I planned on taking the sign over to him  after I figured out how to hang the fairy lights over the rafters. I climbed up onto the top bunk and started there making my way around the perimeter of the cabin. But there was still one long beam across the middle I started on the top bunk in one corner of the room but that only got me so far. I Pulled the little table in the center of the room over and climbed up standing on top of it. It was just tall enough for me to be able to toss the lights around and catch it on the other side of the beam. Just as I’d moved the table and climbed back up to start another section I heard the screen door open. 

“What are you doin?” He asked an edge of panic in his voice. Sy was leaning against the door frame watching me. 

“Hanging lights.” I shrugged, turning back to the task at hand. 

“You’re gonna get hurt,” He said. Walking over to the table staring up at me to meet my eyes. I looked down shaking my head. 

“I am not! I’m almost done once I finish this part I’m gonna climb onto the other bunk.” I explained wrapping the lights around one more time before starting to get down. I felt Logan’s hands on my waist steadying me and helping me off the table. “Thanks” I blushed turning away from him quickly it was to early for this. 

“Anytime darlin, you want some help?” He asked. I shook my head as I climbed the ladder to the top bunk diagonal from mine. 

“Nope this is the last part!” I said as I finished wrapping the lights around the beam. “Did you need something?” I asked. Looking down at him.

“Yeah you not to give me a heart attack!” He joked. I chuckled. 

“I was fine Logan!” I argued. He shook his head. 

“I was actually coming to see if you were ready to head over to breakfast?” He asked I looked down at my watch and looked back up. 

“Is it 8:30 already?” I asked. He nodded. 

“Sure is!” He smiled. I hopped down from the bunk laughing when his eyes went wide again. 

“Jesus woman,” He laughed. “Would you stop trying to get hurt!” He chided. 

“Oh so you can go of overseas and fight in a war, but I can’t do a little home decor without you threatening to put me in a bubble?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t mean you aren’t capable of doing it yourself darlin, it’s just if I remember right you tend to be accident prone.” He chuckled. 

“That was 7 years ago! I was 17, I was a little clumsy. That’s all.” I defended. 

“Sure,” He smiled. “You ready to go eat?” He asked. I nodded. 

“Just let me grab some shoes!” I slipped on a pair of vans and we headed out the door. 

I was so glad we took the time to sit down and enjoy breakfast because the rest of our morning and early afternoon went by so fast. 

We had another staff meeting about greeting campers. And meeting parents. Dealing with home sickness. A crash course on first aid. The first day’s schedule. Luckily Sy and I were with the older kids. High school age. So our day’s weren’t quite as structured. But somehow that made me more nervous. What if they just brushed us off and none of our effort was even worth it. 

I didn’t have time to think about it. At 1 pm right after lunch and after we finished. Some staff bonding games of our own it was time for check in. It was kind of a long process if I remember so I still had maybe 20 minutes before any of my campers would be there but I was still so nervous. I went and sat out on the picnic table writing down the schedule and some of the games Logan and I had talked about trying one last time to get all my thoughts organized. At one point when I looked up I saw him across the lawn standing on the porch of his cabin finally taping the sign I’d made to his door. 

Better late than never I suppose. I giggled to myself. To be fair it’s a miracle the boys cabins ever participated in those sorts of things anyway. They never were ones to decorate. And their cabins always had a certain…smell to them. I shook my head and looked up again just in time to catch his eye across the lawn. I smiled sending him a little wave. I saw him grin and he waived back. Just as I thought about walking over to chat, a young girl and what i’m guessing is her mom stopped in front of the cabin. 

“Cabin E?” The mom asked smiling. I nodded. Standing up to greet them. 

“That’s me!” I smiled. “Welcome to camp!”

“Thank you!” She said. “This is Emma,” she gestured to her daughter. 

“I can introduce myself mom,” she chided her mother. “I’ve been doing this for 4 years now.” Ah so she was a seasoned camper. She should be fun. 

“It’s nice to meet you Emma, I’m Lainie, do you need help bringing anything inside? I asked gesutring to her bags. 

“Oh I can help her!” Her mom jumped in. Emma rolled her eyes. 

“Mom I love you, but you’re hovering. I got it from here.” She assured her. The womans face fell but she nodded. 

“Alright I get it, it’s time for me to go.” she said. I gave her a sympathetic look. 

“Hey Emma no one else is here yet why don’t you go choose your bunk and get settled in, I always liked to get here early too so I could get the bed I wanted.” I told her. 

The girls eyes lit up and she nodded. She quickly hugged her mom and grabbed her bags walking toward the door. 

“It’s just two weeks mom! I love you!” she said before she walked inside. Her mother smiled sadly and looked back to me. 

“She’s so independent, I don’t know when that happened. She grew so fast. I’ll only get to do this with her one more year.” Her mother explained. 

“She’s just excited, I remember these days. I was a camper myself not to long ago. But trust me, about half way through the first week. I would start to get a little home sick. We alway miss our mommas.” I told her. 

“Thank you,” She smiled. “Sounds like she’s in good hands with you Lainie. I’d better go check on my son My husband is dropping off her twin brother Ethan. And they can both be a handful.” I laughed. 

“I know the type,” I chuckled. She smiled before heading off in the direction of Sy’s cabin. When I looked over there was a boy, and an older man standing outside talking with him. Emma’s mother joined them. The boy had blonde hair just like the girls. Must be her brother I thought.   I didn’t have much time to watch as two more campers and their family’s arrived. One whos name was Nicole she was also a camp alumn been coming just as long as Emma. It didn’t look like they knew each other very well though. Must not have been in the same cabin before. Nicole was a spitfire. Right out the gate. She walked right in claiming her bunk signing her name on the wall next to it, another camp tradition. She dismissed her parents right away as well. They stopped and talked for a bit but they’d done this before they didn’t have many concerns. The other girl  was much more timid and shy. She reminded me of myself my first year of camp. She was about a year or 2 younger than the other girls. Her name was Ryleigh. She was quiet when she introduced herself. Her mother talked to me about concerns of her being social and making friends. She was worried about her. I understood that. But I also understood the way that this place had a tendency to open people up and make them feel safe. What I told her was. I’d keep an eye on her. She’s gonna have a fun summer. I promised that. Another hour had gone by and all of my campers had arrived. I had 8 girls in my Cabin. I welcomed them all and gave them each their sign to put up by their bunks. 

“These are so cool!” Nicole said excitedly quickly climbing up to her bunk and taping it up immediately. 

“I like these!” Emma said, “Is it okay if we add more drawings or sketches to them?” She asked. I nodded 

“Absolutely they’re yours to do whatever you want with!” I smiled. “But if everyone is all settled in I think the boys are ready to meet up with us. Are you ready to meet everyone?” They were pretty excited to get things kicked off by this point most of the girls had been to camp at least once. They were ready to get the summer started. 

Sy and I had decided that we would meet up on the lawn and just sit out on the grass as a group to start things off. When we walked over Nicole immediately ran over hugging one of the boys, must be old friends. They immediately sat next to each other in the grass as Sy and I told everyone to form a circle. 

“Alright,” Sy spoke loudly getting everyones attention. “First we’d like to introduce ourselves. The boys have met me but ladies, I’m Logan, a lot of people call me Sy. I’ll answer to either one.” He smiled. I looked over and a couple of the girls were whispering to each other. I knew that face. I’d been the one making it years ago. Probably even still now. They thought he was cute. It’s so innocent those camp counselor crushes. I’d been there too. Once when I was 13 we had this counselor his name was Tanner. He was really nice and he played guitar and he sang. I was a sucker guys that were into music. I just smiled to myself, and realised it was my turn to talk. 

“We’re so excited to have you all here, I’m excited to meet all of your boys as well Sy! I’m Alayna but for most of my life and especially around here, everyone has always called me Lainie. Sy and I are so happy to be back here, we were campers ourselves but it’s been 7 years since we’ve been to camp.” I said. I stifled a laughed watching a few of them try to do the math in their head to calculate how old we were. 

“My family and I have been coming to camp since my dad was a kid,” Sy added. “I’m sure there are things that have changed since we’ve been here but there are some traditions that never wil!” He smiled. “You guys ready to kick off this summer?” They all cheered excitedly. 

“Okay,” I spoke. “Some people love this and some people don’t but there are 16 of you, there’s no faster way for us to learn all of your names and you who you are than some icebreakers.” a few of them groaned. “I know, I know we’re gonna make this as painless as possible, we were campers too remember? We went back and tried to find the games we had the most fun doing. 

“Everyone know how to play 2 truths and a lie?” Logan asked. Most of them nodded but we still explained the rules as a refresher. “But after we all guess.” He added. “We want you to talk a little bit more about one of your truths to us. Or explain why you chose that lie.” That seemed to really pique their interest. Beckett one of the boys in Logans cabin started the game. 

“Alright,” he started. “I’m a lifeguard, One time when my friends and I were on a college campus tour we played a pick up game of football with some of the college players. Or as a senior prank we stole our math teachers car.” Everyone started laughing. This kid had charisma. I could already see some of the girls eyes getting all dreamy. He was funny too. Sy was going to enjoy having him as a camper. 

“Did you still graduate?” Emma laughed. “No way you did that and didn’t get caught!” she said. 

“I graduated,” He nodded smirking proudly. 

“What position did you play?” Sy asked, talking about football. 

“In school I was wide receiver.” He answered. A few of the others went around asking questions. And then we all made our guesses. We all for sure thought he was lying about the car. 

“We got to sit in the stadium and watch them practice.” he said about the football. “But we didn’t get to play. I’d love to play in college though!” He added. The boys started laughing and the some of the girls shook their heads. 

“No freaking way,” Nicole said “How’d you pull that off, How’d you steal the car?” He smiled proudly, this guy was going to be our camp clown for sure. 

“One of my buddies TA’d for him and he would ask him to get stuff for him out of his car sometimes. So we came up with the idea that when he asked we would meet down there and move it to the student parking lot. He was a super chill guy. He thought it was funny! After he found his car anyway!” We all laughed. The game continued on. They all had a lot of fun with it. Some of them coming up with really strategic lies. Or just basic stuff they wanted us to know about them. It turned out great. It was Ryleigh’s turn last. I could see she was nervous she’d been avoiding going the whole time. 

“Uh, I’m Ryleigh,” She spoke softly. “I’m in band, uh I-I really like to read, and one time in middle school I won a rollerskating contest at our roller rink,” She was playing with her fingers looking at the ground. 

“What’s your favoirte book?” I asked her. She looked up for a second giving me a nervous smile. 

“Uhm Thousand Words by Jennefer Brown,” She said. I smiled 

“I’ve read that Its really good!” one of the girls said. I watched her face light up a little bit. 

“What instrument do you play?” Sy asked. 

“I play guitar.” She said. He nodded giving her a soft smile. One of the boys asked about the roller skating thing and a few other questions and we all guessed. 

“I don’t think you roller skate,” Ethan, Emma’s twin brother said. 

“I do!,” she smiled surprised she had fooled most of us. “I’m actually not in band. I do play guitar though! My dad taught me.” she said. 

“That’s so cool!” Beckett said. “Did you bring your guitar with you? You could totally play at campfire!” He said. She blushed and nodded slightly. 

“I did.” she said. 

“Sweet!” He smiled at her.  

Our afternoon was going really well. We talked to the kids about what things they wanted to make sure we did as a group this summer. What traditions were important to them. The boys were so excited to help Logan start planning for the prank war. At somepoint we were going to play flashlight hide and seek. That was always fun. We always set that up right after it started to get dark. They wanted to do a camp fire breakfast. We made them promise they were going to get up early to help us with it. But they were mainly just excited to hang out with their friends and do whatever we had planned. They were such a great bunch of kids. It always seemed like no matter the generation. We always reverted back to a state of innocence when we were at camp. Leaving technology behind and just being present. 

It was turning out to be a perfect first day. We had the kids make their name tags and  were playing a few more group games before dinner. But just as we were finishing up our last game it started to sprinkle. We gathered everyone up to head over to the dining hall and the sky let loose. It started to rain steadily. We all ran over from the Cabin’s making it inside just before it started to down pour. 

“Well,” Logan said from behind me making me jump, He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare ya darlin, but I bet they cancel the welcome campfire tonight, it’ll be way to wet now.” He said. I nodded. 

“That sucks. Some of the girls were looking forward to it. They had friends in other cabins they wanted to see. I had no idea it was supposed to rain.” I said. 

“Yeah, I was checking the weather on my way in yesterday. Could Possibly turn into a pretty rough thunderstorm.” He added. 

“Oh,” I said softly, biting my lip. I hated storms. Especially at camp. The cabins always felt so small and so thin. Like they wouldn’t hold. It was the one time I didn’t feel safe. But I played it off. “Guess we’ll be inside the rest of the evening then!”

During dinner they did infact announce that they were canceling the big welcome camp fire. It was for all the age groups at camp to welcome everyone all at once. And then each night each of the age groups had their own campfire. But we’d be doing neither of those things tonight. So much for the perfect first day. After dinner we decided to run over to the rec room. There was a pool table, and darts. Foosball, card games, board games, all of the inside entertainment we would could ever hope for. A few of the other cabin groups decided to head there too. So the campers had a lot of fun. Most of them reunited with old camp friends and made some new ones. Some of them sat down to play some pretty intense card games or board games. Some just chose to sit and talk. I was feeling really good about our first day. But then I saw Ryleigh sitting by herself. My heart broke for her. I understood how having anxiety could make these situations so difficult. I was just about to go talk with her when Sy approached. 

“She’s a real sweet girl,” He said. 

“You noticed too, huh?” I asked. He nodded. 

“Yeah, hate to mention it but, kinda reminds me of you, in our days here.” He said. 

“I was just thinking the same thing. I was gonna go talk to her, see if there’s anything I can do to help.” I sighed. 

“Not yet, give it a minute.” He spoke. I raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” I questioned. 

“Just trust me, give it a minute.” He smirked crossing his arms. I stared at him confused for a moment. What did he know that I didn’t. But it very quickly made sense. 

“No you guys go ahead and start the next round I’ll be back,” I heard one of the boys say from the table where the campers had a big Uno game going. It was Beckett I watched as he stood from the table and nervously ran his hand through his messy hair. But then his demenor switched as he put on a charming smile and a confident mask. He walked over to where Ryleigh was sitting on a beanbag in the corner doodling on a piece of paper. He plopped down next to her. 

“Whatcha doin?” He asked her. She jumped startled not expecting anyone to be there. 

“Just, sketching…” she answered.

“You draw?” He asked. She shook her head. 

“Not really but…” I stopped listening. Letting them have their own conversation. I wouldn’t want someone to eavesdrop on a moment like this if I were her. 

“How did you…?” I trailed off. Sy chuckled. His shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“He noticed her a while ago. I’ve been watching him try to work up the nerve to go over there for the last 10 minutes.” he laughed. I smiled. 

“Wait, so you think he likes her?” I asked.

“Oh, he definitely likes her. If the military taught me one thing. It’s how to be observant. He’s had his eye on her since we all met up this afternoon.” he smirked. 

“That’s so cute,” I smiled

“I was the same way with you!” He admitted. I almost choked on air.

“I never noticed that,” I said. He shook his head smiling.

“Yeah, cause you were so quiet and stuck in your own head to realize what was going on. You didn’t even realized you liked me back until the second year we were at camp together.”  He laughed. 

“You did NOT like me first!” I argued. 

“Did too, Just because you didn’t notice doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.” He smirked. I opened my mouth to argue but there was a loud crack of thunder making me jump. I swallowed hard and looked down at the floor trying to hide the panic in my eyes. 

“Still don’t like storms huh?” He questioned. I bit my lip looking up at him and shook my head. 

“Hate them,” I said. Another roll of thunder and I felt myself tense. Sy put his hands on my shoulders making me look up at him. 

“It’s arlight we’re safe inside.” he assured me. I nodded. He and I walked over and sat with a few of the other counselors talking for a bit and keeping an eye on our campers. About 20 minutes later the weather alert went off on the radio in the rec room. We were under a severe thunderstorm warning. We could hear the rain pounding against the roof. My heart pounded in my chest. And the thunder was getting closer. Louder. 5 minutes later. The power went out. 

Sy immediately jumped up to take control of the room. 

“Everybody stay calm,” He spoke softly. I heard a zipper and some rustling. He’d pulled out a large flashlight from his bag. One of the counselors walkie talkies went off. Sy lifted his to his ear to listen. 

“Okay guys, just relax we’re gonna stay here until the storm lets up. Hopefully the power comes back on. Until then weve got some lantern flashlights to set up around the room. Just keep hanging out we’re alright.” He assured them. Sy and one of the other boys counselrs went into a supply closet finding the LED lantern lights they had 5 of them and set them out throughout the room illuminating it just enough for the kids to see and still be able to play cards or board games or talk. Some of the girls were a little nervous so I put on my best brave face to go over and talk to them. 

“Are you sure we’re safe in here?” Emma asked. I nodded. 

“We’re shielded from the storm and there aren’t many windows in here. We’re perfectly safe.” 

“I hate this.” another girl said. 

“I know, it’s not fun but it’ll,” another loud crack of thunder and I jumped. My breathing shaky, “It’ll.. It will uhm…” I started but I couldn’t get the sentence out the panic starting to take over. 

The girls both had nervous looks on their face. I was worrying them. Shit. I suck at this. 

“It’ll pass soon and we’ll head back to the cabins for the night.” I heard Sy say behind me. His hand softly pressed to my lower back. “Don’t worry we’ll get out of here and right back to all the fun stuff tomorrow.” he gave them a reassuring smile. 

They nodded. And I felt Logan gently leading me away. There was a small hallway that was out of the way and he pulled me to the side. “You alright?” He asked. I shook my head starting to feel myself shaking. 

“I-I can’t I can’t do this. I, how am I supposed to help them when I’m too scared myself and, I just I hate this.I feel like I can’t breathe!” I sniffed. He pulled me into him wrapping his arms around me gently shushing me. 

“Shhh it’s alright. You’re gonna be okay.” He said, holding me to him. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” He soothed. 

“I’m sorry.” I breathed. 

“Don’t, it’s alright.” he whispered. “Just keep breathing for me,” He talked me through it. And when I calmed down we walked back out sitting on one of the couches again. I stayed quiet a moment watching the room. 

“Sy,” I spoke finally. Just as I went to thank him his radio was going off again. We were cleared to head back to the cabins. The heavy part of the storm had passed but it was still raining. We ran back and Sy and I parted on the lawn getting our campers settled. He got the boys back to his cabin and they settled in. He made sure they all made it back 

“Alright boys I’ll be right back I’m gonna go check on the girls make sure they all made it!” he told them. He ran over across the lawn and knocked on our door. I answered quickly and let out a deep breath when I saw it was him. 

“You girls alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah!” some of them answered. I smiled 

“We’re okay.” I said softly. He smiled and nodded for me to join him out on the porch. I turned back to the girls “I’ll be right back ladies, go ahead and get ready for bed, lights out is in 30 minutes!” I told them. I closed the door behind me. And let the sceen door slam shut. 

“Are you okay?” He asked after a beat of silence. 

“Yeah, I am,...Thank you for helping me back there,” I said. 

“This isn’t our first storm together honey,” He smiled. “I’ll always be there to help ya.” I blushed. 

“You’ve always been such a gentleman. You’re mama raised you right.” I smiled. 

“Nah, just with you, comes naturally,” He said. I felt my cheeks heat up even more and I looked away trying to compose myself. 

“So, was that…all?” I asked. He stepped closer to me until I was leaning against the picnic table. 

“No,” He smiled. “There’s one other thing.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek his eyes staring down into mine. I couldn’t take it anymore. We’d drawn this out for too long. 7 years too long. I wrapped one arm around his neck the other hand gently resting on the back of his head pulling him down to me. He responded immediately pressing his lips to mine. His other hand found my waist pulling me close holding me against him. All of the air left my lungs as I kissed him back with everything I had. I whimpered softly when he pulled away. 

“Shit, “ He smiled breathless. “Only took me 7 years but I uh..” He breathed “just wanted to kiss you goodnight.”  I nodded still cathing my breath smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. 

“One more for good measure?” I asked blushing. He smirked. And pulled me in again kissing me softer this time. It was slow and sensual. He leaned his forehead against mine when he pulled away. 

“A man could get addicted to that,” he said. I smiled slowly trailing my hand from his should and down his chest. 

“I wouldn’t mind.” I laughed. He chuckled and pecked my lips one more time. 

“Goodnight Darlin’” 

“Goodnight, Sy” I watched him run through the rain back to his cabin and I stood their for a moment regaining my composure before I went back inside. Just as I was about to open  the door. I heard the one of the girls say

“No, I’m serious you guys I think they’re married!” it sounded like Nicole

“Nikki, Neither one of them is wearing a ring!” Emma said. 

“Okay well dating at least, They’re like super in love! You should’ve seen them in the rec room! I had to pee and they were in the hall by the bathrooms. He was like holding her it was so cute!” 

“Aww that’s so sweet, she was definitely scared! I felt so bad!” One of the other girls, Chloe added. 

“I know, OH MY GOD! Do you think they’ll let us call them Mom and Dad? Remember last year when we had Carrie and Andrew and they were married? That was so cute they literally treated us like their kids!” nicole squealed. 

“I hope so!” Emma said “I really like them! They’re both so nice, and I really hope they’re dating if they’re not they need to be, because they’d be so cute together!” I chuckled to myself before opening the door and they’re attention turned to me but they went quiet. 

“Okay girls gossip time is over! Time for lights out!” I said. They groaned. 

“Okay but wait, are you and Logan Married?” Nicole asked. 

“Nicole do you see a ring? What did I just say? But you two are dating right?!” Emma added. I chuckled to myself and shook my head. 

“Goodnight girls.” 

“Ugh fine be like that girl,” Nicole pouted. 

“Goodnight Lainie!” Emma called. 

“Goodnight,” Ryleigh said softly. The rest of the girls settled in and I turned out the lights and climbed into my bunk. I bit my lip and smiled to myself holding in an excited. Squeal. Maybe this was still the perfect first day after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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