#I live alone too so doesn’t help when I haven’t heard real voices all day and suddenly that’s what I hear

[walkingchemicalfire]

Mild rant incoming:

Does anyone else on Tumblr mobile get those ads that just immediately blast the audio? Like I’m just scrolling through and all of sudden an auditory nightmare is playing through my speakers…not great for being out in public and also I just despise sounds I’m not prepared for.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Josh?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Josh isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[creativecuteness]

Total Slaughter Island Chapter 3: Away with the Wind She Goes

A/N Sorry this is a little late. Didn't get a chance to edit this until today ao3 and fanfiction.net links will come a little later. Enjoy the last chapter of this story for a little bit, I hope to update this next month.

 Chef’s outburst caused a mixture of yelps, startled gasps, and whispers throughout the room. It wasn’t like the stone-cold man to get this riled up and panic; even his fiancée was shocked and not used to seeing this side of him.

“Chef?! What did you say?!” Emily spoke, breaking the hushed silence.

“I know who did it! I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner. The mask, those overalls, the crazed look in their eyes as they took Ezekiel away—it all points to one person—Hook’s McGrady.”

“Huh?” Everyone gasped, very confused.

“Uh, Hook’s McWho?” Emily questioned, wondering if Chef was just making stuff up.

“Hook’s McGrady,” he repeated in a spooky voice, “someone I haven’t seen since my time during the war.”

Knowing Chef was about to tell one of his famous tales, someone turned off the lights as Chef turned on a flashlight and pointed it at his face.

“His name was Sean Phillip; the two of us met during our training days. While I was strong and burly, he was more like a water boy; however, he was a kind spirit who got along with almost everyone. Heck, the two of us even became best friends. We told each other everything; we had each other’s back. He told me he joined the army cause his mother was sick and was the best way to provide for her, and I promised to help him reach that goal. A promise I was never able to fulfill, it all came crashing down June 13th. We were passing through enemy lines when a sneak attack backed us into an old shack. It was old and brittle, perfect to annihilate an enemy. It all happened so fast. An enemy soldier threw a grenade in, and just like that, boom, the shack collapsed with us inside it. And yet, by some stroke of luck, we lived. However, we were badly injured, and some of us needed surgery to even walk again, and sadly, Sean was one of them; his hands were both dislocated and burned beyond recognition. You should have seen the side of his charred face; it was awful.

Long story short, his hands needed to be amputated, and he wore hooks as makeshift prosthetics. That’s how he got his nickname. I remember promising him once we returned to civilization, we’d get him real prosthetic hands. We tried to be respectful and lift his spirits, but it was fruitless. We knew he was a broken man. His hands were special, man; he had the best trigger finger in our troop, and without them, he was nothing.

And it gets worse; there were a few groups who began mocking him for his disabilities; their words, no matter how hard he tried to brush it off, got under his skin. They even made me feel small when I tried to stand up for the poor guy. To the point where I just held my tongue and ignored the growing tension, but that doesn’t even cover my greatest mistake; it was our toughest mission yet. We were about to invade enemy lines; we were split into two teams, one held the front lines while the other invaded the base. My team consisted of me, Sean, and a group of bullies that wouldn’t leave the poor man alone. We tried to get by without any incident, but eventually their teasing became too much, and Sean had a full breakdown. We were spotted not long after and made a run for it, fighting through the chaos as we made our escape. In doing so, Sean was caught. I desperately wanted to go back and save him, but my comrades convinced me that he wasn’t worth it.

As I left with the others, I heard him scream, saying we’d pay for leaving him behind. In the end, I broke the biggest rule in the army: “No man left behind.” I’ve kept this secret for years; I know his ghost has been haunting me, and now he’s returned for revenge.” Chef concluded his story as someone turned the lights back on.

“That’s an interesting story, Hatchet, but I don’t see how any of this is connected to...

“You don’t understand, man!” He shouted, banging his fists on the table once again, startling everyone witnessing. “This whole thing is my fault. I told Chris to bail because I was terrified of facing my past, and now those kids are gonna suffer for it. Which is why...” The army man took a deep breath, “I volunteer to rescue the campers and beg Hook for forgiveness.”

Everyone was stunned silent, not that anyone would oppose Chef’s offer better him than any of them.

“I also volunteer!” Dakota stood up,

"Wait, Dakota, no.” Chris whispered, not wanting her to get killed.

“I’m going, Chris, and that’s final. I told you before if you won’t rescue the campers, I would.” She spoke seriously, determined to get everyone home safely.

Chris sighed, knowing nothing would change their minds, and stood up.

“And where do you think you’re going, Mclean?!” The C.E.O. spoke disapprovingly.

Chris put his arms around his surrogate daughter and fiancée, for once he was ready to take responsibility for his mistake. “I’m going with them.”

"Wait, you are?!” Dakota gasped; a part of her hopeful, but the other part honestly didn’t want him to come.

The former TV host nodded and said, “It’s my fault the kids are even in this mess; if getting us off the hook is recusing the campers, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I’m afraid just saving the campers won’t cut it. If Ezekiel isn’t the only one dead, the deceased’s parents will take legal action against us. And I refuse to let that happen.”

“So, what are you saying?” Dakota questioned, fearing the mission was going to be called off.

“To put it simply, I want that killer’s head on a platter.” The C.E.O. instructed, “You have three days to get the campers off the island, recover the dead bodies, and catch the killer—nothing more, nothing less. Understand?”

“Three days, but that’s...

“Just enough time for you to get in and out. I doubt it’ll take you more than a day to locate the survivors, and considering Chris has a map of the area, you should have no trouble finding your way around. Now with that meeting adjourned.”

Everyone piled out of the room without saying another word other than bidding the threesome good luck on their mission. Which Dakota knew she needed as she and Emily left early to pack some things.

Chef was going through drawers and his shared closet, grabbing anything and everything that was deemed a necessity, when Chris knocked on the door.

"Sorry, bud, I can’t talk now; we’re leaving early tomorrow morning, and I need to get our stuff in order.”

"Look, I know you’re busy, but was that story you told the C.E.O. true? Or did you make it all up to help Dakota?” Chris wondered,

His lover dropped the clothes on the bed and grabbed Chris by the shoulders, which shocked the shorter man. Who rarely sees his significant other act this serious, “Chris I can guarantee that story was one hundred percent true. However, I may have lied when I said I left Sean behind.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

Chef sighed deeply, putting his face in his hands. “It’s my fault Phillip died; we weren’t invading enemy lines. Those bullies who mocked Sean forced me to lock him in the gas chamber at home base. I was forced to see my best friend die before my eyes and did nothing about it. I ran like the coward I was, and I never told anyone the truth; instead, I lied, saying I witnessed the whole thing and ran away to get help. The ones involved were punished, but the guilt has been tearing me apart for years.”

“That’s why you weren’t opposed to leaving the campers for dead, wasn’t it?” Chris asked, putting a gentle hand on Chef’s shoulder, who merely nodded, tears filling his eyes.

“I know we made a mistake leaving them, but I was scared too. I’ve seen Grady in my dreams; whenever he shows up, something horrible always happens. He’s returned, Chris; he’s after me, and this time I don’t think I can run anymore. He’s going to catch me; I just know this’ll be my finally days on earth.”

“Look,” Chris started, not really sure how to comfort someone who’s been haunted by the past. “I don’t know what’ll happen, but I promise, everything is going to be okay. Surely the kids are fine. I mean, how many could have dropped dead in a span of a month?”

“Sadly, many Hook’s is crafty; he won’t let anything out of his grasp.”

Chris sighed as he pulled his fiancée into his embrace. Chef held his lover tightly, feeling this could be the last time they'd ever see each other. Chris continued reassuring the man that everything would be okay, knowing they'd sort things out.

“I sure hope you’re right, Chris.” Was all he could say.

The next morning, Dakota was alarmed to see cop cars lined up outside. She immediately ran inside to see officers questioning employees. The young girl was about to ask what was going on when she heard a voice.

“Psst in here.” The brunette searched for the source when she noticed Emily’s hand giving away her location. Dakota ran to the door and was dragged into the basement, where her friend and two others were waiting in the dark.

“Phew, here I thought you were next.” Emily sighed,

"Emily, what’s going on? What’s with the cop cars?”

“It’s all over, girl; they’re out for our arrest.”

“For what?! Chris and Chef are the ones responsible for abandoning the campers!”

“No, this has nothing to do with that; this is a completely unrelated incident.”

“But you said—”

"Okay, fine, it’s slightly unrelated, but the order of events that lead to this point is only partially related.”

“What?”

Emily sighed. “Allow me to explain. The C.E.O. is being accused of some shady dealings behind the scenes; someone was able to dig up some dirt on the dude, and now they have a warrant to investigate us. Also, they want the location of Camp Wawanakwa; parents are getting impatient, and they want answers now.” Her friend informed her,

“Excuse me, Senorita?” A Hispanic boy came forward and asked, “Is it true you’re volunteering to get the missing kids back?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going alone; my boss and his fian… I mean, good friend are accompanying me.” She explained, and the boy hummed in thought, "Wait, hold on, who are you?”

"Oh, right, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alejandro Burromuerto, and this is my acquaintance, Sierra.” He introduced himself as Sierra waved excitedly.

“It is so nice to meet you. I have a blog that’s been documenting the entire ordeal, and might I say your friend Emily has told me how you’ve been fighting tooth and nail to get the network to send out a rescue? I was hoping you’d be interested in an interview, perhaps? My fans will go insane.”

“Um, sorry.” Dakota smiled uncomfortably, backing away from Sierra’s excitable energy. “I’m not taking any statements right now; maybe another time.”

Alejandro patted Sierra’s shoulder to get her to back off, upon realizing she was making the other girl uncomfortable. She took a deep breath to compose herself and got out of her face.

“Sorry about that; I tend to get a little excited about my passions; I get it from my mother's side.” She explained,

“It’s fine.” Dakota sighed, understanding the tanner girl perfectly. “Just try to control yourself, and we’ll get along swimmingly.” She held out her hand as the two shook it. “I’m Dakota Natalie, by the way.”

“We’re assuming you work here?” Alejandro asked, and the two nodded.

“More like my dad works here; Chris was somehow nice enough to give me an internship here.” She explained,

“I’m an intern as well.” Emily came forward, “But only in the summer; I’ll be out of here come end of August. Though considering we’re under investigation, I should probably just bail before they arrest me.”

“Yeah, something tells me you should do that.” Sierra awkwardly agreed,

“So, is there a reason you’re here? Or are you a part of the feds who are here questioning people?” Dakota wondered, turning to Alejandro,

"No, no, we’re not with them; we snuck in.” Sierra proudly announced, shocking the two interns,

“You snuck in?!” They exclaimed, 

“Okay, first of all, that was very reckless of you. What if you were caught by security?! Second of all…” She paused "Wait, how did you even get in?” Emily wondered,

“We disguised ourselves as delivery men and waltzed right in.” Sierra winked, “It was surprisingly easy.”

“We came in hopes of discovering insider information to help investigators. It appears the urgency of the situation is reaching its boiling point, and we wanted to help. However, once the police came, we panicked and have been hiding down here ever since.” The Hispanic boy explained,

“That was until I found them; considering no one ever comes down here, I knew this would be the perfect hiding spot.” Emily smirked,

“You found them by chance, didn’t you?” Dakota asked,

“Yes.” She confirmed losing her confident demeanor,

"Look, as nice as it is to meet you two, we have to get out of here. I’m leaving to save the kids, and you two can’t be seen.”

"Wait, hold on, we can help you.” Sierra offered hastily, “You only have a limited time to save everyone, right? Alejandro is a world traveler; he and his dad went around the whole world a few years ago. And I have exclusive scoops on the campers; we’ve been planning infiltration for months. Please let us come with you!”

Dakota pondered this for a minute and realized the extra hands wouldn’t be horrible if what Sierra said was true. The two had some experience. “You two do realize you’re putting your lives in danger, right? There’s a killer on the island, and I doubt they escaped; are you two willing to put your lives on the line for the call of duty?”

“Trust me, we are more than willing to sacrifice ourselves if it means avenging those poor souls. We know about the risks, and we promise to proceed with caution.” Sierra understood,

While she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced the two could handle themselves, she knew time was running thin, and if the police were here, Chris and Chef would have bolted. "Okay, you two can come on one condition; don’t get in the way, and try not to get killed.”

The two nodded, agreeing to the terms. “We promise.”

“Okay, Emily, distract the cops while I track down Chris and Chef. I hope you two are ready because we leave now.”

Emily saluted, “You can count on me, girl.” Then she ran into her friend’s arms for a tight hug, “Good luck out there; please promise me you’ll come back safe.”

“I can’t guarantee that, Emily. However, if Chris pulls a bait and switch on me, I plan to haunt him for the rest of his lousy life.”

The feisty girl giggled, already imagining the hilarity of Chris dealing with an unwanted guest. “Alejandro and Sierra, you better get my girl back safe.” She said running upstairs as the remaining threesome slowly followed.

Getting out of the building and finding Chris and Chef were easier than expected. After a brief explanation on the two newcomers, Chris begrudgingly allowed the two to come much to their joy. Chef explained the boat ride to the island would take a few hours, so Sierra showed her teammates the information and background she had on the campers.

“Wow, Sierra You really went all out; if it weren’t for our circumstances, I’d say you were some crazy stalker.”

The other responded uncomfortably, shifting her weight. “Well, you’re not far off per se.” She spoke, trying to laugh it off.

“Wait, what’d I say?”

“What you spoke was the truth.” Chef explained, “When we were doing auditions, we considered putting Sierra in; however, after a quick background check, we found out she had a restraining order on her head and charges for stalking and harassment. The network didn’t want to risk anyone’s safety in case she got handsy, so Duncan got in instead.”

“Yes, because safety was your true priority considering the challenges you laid out.” Dakota deadpanned, "Also, doesn’t Duncan have criminal charges on his hands?”

“Ha!” Chef laughed. “That boy’s got nothing on her; he does petty crimes he’ll hopefully grow out of once he matures. Sierra’s a full-on menace to society; if you ask me, she deserves to be behind bars.”

The girl in question shrank into herself, knowing Chef made a valid point; what she did wasn’t her proudest moment, and she’s been teased and bullied for her experience even more than her daily average. She was a social outcast who weirded out everyone who met her. And the stalking incident didn’t help her reputation; it made it worse, considering many of her classmates pray she’ll slip up and end up in jail for life. But she deserved it, considering she didn’t realize how wrong and inappropriate her actions towards her crush were at the time.

"Chef, that was so uncalled for.”

“No, he’s right.” Sierra spoke, then sighed as she began to explain herself. “I developed a crush on a boy that was very unhealthy. I snuck into his house once and was caught. His family called the police, and I was taken to a mental hospital, where I spent three months receiving treatment for my obsessive behavior and therapy. I received the restraining order shortly before I was released, and never saw him again. He changed schools when I returned, and for all I know, he could have moved out of state. But I promised myself never to do anything like that ever again.”

“So, did this happen before or after you auditioned?” Chris questioned, raising his eyebrow,

“Shortly after, I thought getting on the show would be a way to start fresh; though, considering what happened, I dodged a huge bullet.”

“Actually, Sierra, you dodged a whole nuke.” Dakota laughed, then turned to her other teammate, “What about you, Alejandro? What’s your tragic backstory?” She questioned adding air quotes to tragic and backstory

The tanner boy sighed deeply, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I wanted to see an old girlfriend of mine.” He revealed,

This peeked everyone’s interest: “Ooh, do tell.” Sierra pushed,

“Her name is Heather; I’m sure you’ve heard of her; she was cast for the show.” He stated, holding up a picture of her, she had long black hair and was wearing a red crop top and green denim shorts. Dakota squinted, realizing the shape of her eyes and face suggested she was of Asin descent.

“We met during middle school. You know, I’ve always saw Heather as the most deadliest black rose in a bouquet of wilted flowers. Her and I had similar competitive natures; we loved coming on top; however, that was our downfall.”

“What happened?” Dakota asked,

The boy smiled bittersweetly, a look of longing in his eyes. “Long story short, my competitive nature got the better of me, and I backstabbed her. I cared more about winning than I did about my own girlfriend; the look of heartbreak on her face still hurts me to this day. I would do anything to apologize and make things right.”

“Sheese sounds like a pretty messy breakup.” Dakota understood feeling kind of bad.

“Oh, it was; I’ve never seen her that angry. The last thing she said to me was that I was an eel dipped in grease, and we were through. She got me back though; it ended in me getting expelled, but I took a trip around the world with my father shortly after and did a lot of soul-searching. When I caught wind that she was signing up for this new reality TV show, I figured I could finally make things right. And now I may never see her again.” He sighed, knowing the chances of his ex being alive were next to null. Dakota’s heart broke, knowing he might not even get the chance to say goodbye. She felt her anger flare up, cursing Chris for everything and the network for not acting faster.

As the group fell into silence, Dakota returned to the edge of the boat, Chris not having moved from his spot since they departed.

“Why are you helping me, Chris?” She spoke, breaking the spell of silence that was cast between them. “We all know what you did; surely repairing our relationship isn’t the only thing on your mind. Are you doing this out of sympathy? Maybe guilt has finally caught up to you. Or is it because of the wave of threats that threaten to destroy your career?”

Chris was dumbfounded at the younger girl’s accusation, but if he was being honest with himself, even he didn’t know why he allowed himself to be dragged back to the island with the premise of Chef’s Ghost Story. But Dakota was right on all accounts; he wanted his relationship with her repaired, he wanted to get back into the good graces he lost, but most importantly, he wanted to know why a killer targeted him and twenty-two other teens. What did he do? No, what did they do to deserve this fate? Why did he run? Why did it seem every outcome would have led him back here, no matter what? As he let his thoughts run circles around him. Dakota opened her mouth to speak his thoughts for him.

“If you ask me, I think you’re doing all this because you miss being a hero in the eyes of the public. Why would you care about anyone other than yourself?”

"Look, Dakota, you’ve got that all wrong.”

“Save it, just...” She beathed uneasily as if hearing her own words hurt her. “Let’s just find them; we have three days, and we don’t know what’ll happen if we take an extended vacation. Find the kids, catch the killer, and recover the dead bodies if there are more than one. Easier said, then done, but it shouldn’t take long.”

The two stared at the setting sun as an island came closer and closer into view. Dakota felt an odd sense of foreboding in the air, and while she’s never felt the feeling to pinpoint it, a voice in her head told her the island was haunted by the souls of the deceased. Whether it was the campers or if the killer murdered before anyone stepped foot to film was unknown to her, but she had a feeling they were about to find out as a foghorn sounded and Chef’s booming voice yelled,

“Land Ho!”

[luminnara]

Omega Depression || Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!fem!reader

Hi! Can I request an alpha!Kiribaku x omega!fem!reader where she is strong on the outside, but sensitive on the inside. Then, some asshole alpha comes and insults her saying that she isn't worthy of having alphas and other super mean stuff that makes her go to omega depression. After that, she confines and isolates herself in her room, not allowing her alphas to enter. Days pass, she misses school for like a week, and her alphas are tired of waiting, so they bust the door and find their omega deep in omega depression and starving herself, and they're super worried and try to help her get out of it, cause she could die if not. The rest can be little angst with a fluffy happy ending!

Yo I live for alpha kiribaku, not gonna lie

Warnings: angst, mental health stuff, depression, eating disorder/starvation stuff, abo

Requests are open!

You were always happy with your alphas. Bakugou and Kirishima were the loves of your life, you were sure of it. The three of you got along well, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than spending time with your boys. You kept up with them easily, never having trouble when it came to handling Katsuki’s temper or Eijiro’s enthusiasm. They loved protecting you, too, not that you ever really seemed to need it; you were tough as nails, as far as everyone was concerned. 

You weren’t, though, not really. 

“What a useless little omega.”

The words kept repeating in your head, over and over.

“Two alphas? Yeah, right. You don’t even deserve one, not with an uppity attitude like that.”

They kept echoing, no matter what you tried to do. 

“What a stupid bitch. They should just leave your sorry ass. You aren’t worthy of anyone, much less alphas.”

You curled in on yourself. You felt sick to your stomach. How could someone say that about you? How could a shitty alpha go and ruin your mood, and your day, by saying something so awful?

“I am worthy!” You had argued. “And we’re happy together, so just fuck off.”

“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t they claimed you yet?” His lips had pulled over his teeth in a sick grin. “You know they’re just biding their time, waiting for something better to come along. You’re nothing to them.”

The little spat had been earlier that morning. It was rare that you ever went out alone; usually Eijirou or Katsuki or both of them were stuck to you like glue, but this had been one of those instances when you had absolutely insisted you would be fine. After all, you were just running a couple errands. You weren’t even going very far from campus. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Well...this, apparently.

You had rejected the advances of an alpha who had been eyeing you for quite some time. He was annoying and his scent always made you recoil, but you would never, not in a million years, have thought that he could hurt you so deeply.

Why were his words even bothering you so much? You knew your boys liked you. They made sure to constantly cover you in their scents, they happily gave up their shirts for you to tuck into your little bed nest, they held your hands and gave you sweet little kisses...

And yet, he was right. They hadn’t claimed you yet. There were no big bite marks on your neck to show the world that you were taken. Why hadn’t it happened yet? You always thought that maybe they were just nervous, and they wanted to wait for the right time. Maybe they wanted to wait until school was over and they were better established as heroes.

Or maybe they were just playing with you, maybe you were nothing more than their favorite toy for the time being. What if they got tired of you? What if they really were planning on kicking you to the curb? Without a bond mark, nobody would even blink if they cast you aside. It would just be a normal break up, nothing for anybody else to even care about or get involved in.

But your heart was already aching at the thought of it.

You huddled up in your nest, ugly sobs wracking your body as you clutched one of Katsuki’s hoodies to your chest. An undershirt of Eijirou’s was nearby, a few plushies that they had given you tucked in amongst the blankets and pillows. The scents of burnt sugar and cinnamon wafted around you, and as comforting as they usually were, they weren’t helping you now. Nothing was.

You heard your phone vibrate, but you didn’t reach for it. You didn’t care. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts, absolutely trapped in your head now. You were plagued by those same words as they kept repeating, telling you over and over that you were worthless, useless, nothing.

When you finally managed to glance at your phone, you had missed texts from both your alphas. You replied to them with a couple of half hearted “yeah, I’m fine” -s, then finally slithered out of bed to make sure your door was locked. You didn’t want to face them when they came to bother you.

If they came.

You spent the entire day like that. When you were out of tears to cry, you just grew numb. It was the worst you had ever felt, and while some part of you knew, deep down, that you needed your alphas to come help you, you couldn’t stand the idea of them seeing you like this. How had you managed to grow so afraid? You usually told them everything, but now...now you abhorred the thought.

“Oi!” Katsuki’s rough voice came from the other side of your door, his scent wafting in. “Open up!”

You didn’t answer, curling in on yourself even further instead. 

“Omega!” he called angrily. “Stop ignoring me, dammit!”

“Go away!” you managed to squeeze out, your voice sounding weak and strangled. 

He was silent for a moment, his scent changing. It grew more burnt-smelling as his anger mounted, and as it reached your nose, you felt panic and annoyance spiking in your chest. 

“Omega,” he growled, voice low. You heard the doorknob jiggling as he tried to get in, but you had locked the deadbolt, and unless he unleashed his quirk right there in the dorms, there was no way he was entering your room.

“I said go away!” you yelled. 

On the other side of the door, Katsuki was fuming. The beginning sparks of little explosions were popping around his hands, and if Eijirou wasn’t there to hold his arms down at his sides, there was a good chance he would have done some real damage to the hallway. 

“Katsuki, c’mon.” the larger alpha said. “Let’s just leave her alone for a little.”

“Something’s wrong,” Katsuki pulled back as his partner started trying to drag him away. “She stinks.”

“Yeah, she definitely doesn’t smell happy,” Kirishima paused, frowning. “But...we need to give her the space, if she wants it.”

“Fuck that,” his partner spat. 

“Katsuki....” Eijirou sighed. 

Bakugou’s nostrils flared angrily for a moment, red eyes wild as Kirishima grabbed his arm once again. Someone was trying to drag him away from his omega, from his perfect little mate, and if it had been anyone other than Eijirou, he would have done far worse than simply dig his heels into the floor and growl in protest. Kirishima was right, though; if their omega wanted alone time, they couldn’t just barge in without permission. As much as it hurt both boys, as desperate as they were to get to you and make you feel better, they weren’t total animals. They respected you, and prided themselves on being two big, capable alphas who listened to their omega. 

They returned to their own rooms, expecting to at least hear from you within an hour or two. 

Hours turned to days. 

You texted them a few times, listless, half-assed messages that did little to reassure them. You would send a pathetic I’m fine or a It’s okay here and there, only after they had both blown your phone up for a few hours. It was the only reason they hadn’t tried to tear your door off its hinges; they knew you were alive, at least. But by the third day, Katsuki was beside himself, and even Eijirou was getting upset enough to consider using his quirk to get to you. 

You wished that he would. You didn’t want to face them, but at the same time, the fact that they weren’t tearing the building apart to reach you was making you even sadder. Your sad scent was starting to leech out into the rest of the dorms, and by the end of the fifth day, nobody could stop your alphas. 

“Oy!” Bakugou snarled, his fist thudding against your door. “Open up, omega!”

You didn’t answer, too weak and listless to bother. 

“Babe?” Kirishima asked, his voice strained with the effort of not yelling in panic. 

“We know you’re in there,” Katsuki growled. “Quit avoiding us!”

Still, you didn’t answer. 

Then, you could hear some shuffling, and the door was being torn off its hinges by Kirishima. Bakugou stormed in as soon as the path was clear, his red eyes blazing with anger, his hands balled into fists.

“You’d better show your face right fuckin’ now, or I swear I—“

He fell silent at the sight of you. His eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. Your scent was so strong and so incredibly miserable that a wave of nausea passed through him. He hadn’t expected that it would be so pungent in your room, and as he covered his mouth and nose with his hand, he rushed towards you.

“Baby,” he cooed, vaguely aware of Kirishima behind him, “what the fuck is going on?”

You tried to bury yourself in your nest, trying to burrow away from the world, but a big hand caught you around the middle and pulled you back out. Eijirou manhandled you easily, his eyes wide with concern as he sat on the floor and placed you in his lap.

“You haven’t been eating,” he observed, looking at your tired eyes. “Or sleeping.”

Katsuki was beside himself with worry. He was immediately sitting in front of his boyfriend, caging you in between them as he began looking you over. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

You didn’t want to tell them. Your throat was sore from crying, and you felt stupid for being so upset. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of and buried your face in Kirishima’s broad chest, clinging to his shirt weakly.

“Omega, please,” the big redhead pleaded, leaning his head down to scent you. “Tell us.”

You shook your head.

“We know Somethin’ is wrong, so spit it out!” Katsuki barked.

His voice was harsh, but you felt a warm, gentle hand on your back that could only be his. The familiar touch made you sigh, and after a shuddery breath, the dam finally broke.

“Th-there was an alpha,” you whimpered, voice muffled by Kirishima.

“What the fuck did they do?” Katsuki growled, his voice deep and savage. It sent a chill down your spine and you whined, clinging to Eijirou for dear life.

“Cut it out,” Kirishima snapped, snorting at his boyfriend angrily. “You’re making it worse.”

“I just wanna know what happened!” He grumbled, his hand pressing into your back.

You hiccuped as a little sob wracked your body. “A-an alpha I rejected, h-he told me…he told me that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

The low rumble in Kirishima’s chest was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was threatening and powerful, putting Bakugou’s growl a moment ago to shame. His arms tightened around you, the scent gland on his neck slipping over your hair as he tried to cover up your unhappy omega stink.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Kirishima snarled, uncharacteristically angry.

“Hey.” Bakugou slipped a hand around your waist, prying you away from the other alpha slightly. “Look at me.”

You faced him with teary eyes, and when you tried to shy away, he took your chin in his fingers. 

“We fuckin’ love you. Okay? I don’t say it much. Maybe I should say it more. But it’s true, ‘n no stupid, two-bit, shitty-ass alpha knows anything about the three of us.”

He leaned forward, pushing you back up against Kirishima with his head resting on your shoulder. You finally sighed, surrounded by the scents of your alphas, allowing yourself to relax as the dam broke and your crying started all over again. This time, though, it was freeing, and as your alphas rocked back and forth with you, you felt the dread and the anxiety slowly leaving your stomach. 

“Better?” Eijirou asked after a while. 

“A little.” you said, voice muffled by his tear-stained shirt. 

“Good.” Katsuki said gruffly, pulling you up to stand. “Let’s go get some food in you. Point that shitbag out if you see him...I wanna have a few words.”

[thismaydestroyme]

Harry angst after a break up from his point of view? Btw I love ur stuff sm <3

THANK YOU SO MUCH! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <3

“FUCK!” Harry let out a horrific scream when he got inside his van. He didn’t want to leave her but being in her presence made him angrier and he was worried he would say something that he would regret later. 

He never thought that today would be the day he would contemplate leaving her. He never thought they would be in this position. 

Tears were starting to roll down his face. He was too exhausted to even wipe it, he just let his sorrow cover his face without trying to prevent it from happening. He was left feeling exhausted. 

When Harry gets this way, he doesn’t want to be alone, he hates the thought of him feeling this way alone in his van because it would make it more real that right now, he doesn’t want to be around Y/N. 

Harry shuffled through his van until he found his phone and when he had it in his hands, he called the only person that would make him feel better. Usually it was Y/N but today is Anne. His mother. 

He clicks on her name and after two rings he heard his mother, “Hey sweetheart. How ya doing love?” She sounded so cheery and so happy to hear from her son. 

“Mum, I need you.” Harry was trying to keep calm, so he didn't scare his mom, but hearing her delicate voice broke something inside of him. 

“I will make you a cup of tea. Drive safe baby.” Anne said dropping her book she was reading and preparing for her son to arrive home. 

“Thank you, and I will.” 

. .

Harry parked his car in front of his childhood home and ran to his front step. Before he could jam his keys in, his mom welcomed him with her arms open waiting for him to grasp. Their bodies collided and Harry clanged onto her just basking in his mother’s warmth and love. 

“I’m here baby, I’m here.”

. .  

After a couple of minutes of them hugging Harry unraveled himself wiping his tears away and trying to control his breathing. 

His mother took him in and walked him to the living room wrapping himself in a blanket waiting for his mom to return with a cup of tea.

They stayed there and talked for an hour while he explained everything to his mom. Anne sat there just listening to everything that has happened to her son and Y/N. Anne loves Y/N, she would do anything for her. So, hearing what happened between them baffled her but she already forgave her and hoped that Harry would too because they belong to each other. 

“Do you really want to hear my opinion?” Anne asked, putting her cup done and crossing her legs making herself comfortable. 

“That’s what I’m here mum.” Harry rolled his eyes but seeing that his mom wasn’t impressed with that, he immediately apologized. 

“Y/N made a mistake, and I don’t think she meant to hurt you. We all make mistakes and we sometimes hurt the people that we love. I hear you, and I understand why you’re mad, and I’m happy that you told her about your concerns and your feelings. I raised you to do so, and I’m proud of you. I just think you guys need some time to decompress and when you guys do, go back to each other, and talk this out. You guys belong to each other.” Anne said with so much heart. Anne loves them and if this is the reason why they broke up for good, she’ll be damned and never make Harry forget about it. She would loom it over their heads forever. 

Harry knew his mother was right, that’s why he’s here but hearing it from a different perspective made him think about this whole thing as something he wanted to bring it for a while now, but he didn’t because he was afraid he was going to lose her. But how things are looking now, in a way he already lost her trust. 

“Thanks mom. I’m just going to lay down for a bit. I’m tired and I haven’t eaten anything all day.” He said getting up folding the throw blanket and putting it back where he found it. 

“Of course, rest up and I will make us an early dinner. How about that?” Anne said looking up at her son. 

“Perfect. I will help you.” He said smiling. One of the things he missed about living at home was helping his mother cook. That’s something he wished he could do every day.

“I would love that, but you need to rest. I’m not trusting you near the stove if you’re sleep deprived.” She shot her hands up telling him to go, which he did going up the stairs smiling. 

He opens his childhood room, and it immediately brings him back when he was a child and a teenager. His world before Y/N. He sat on his twin size bed thinking about how he even slept on this small ass bed. He laid down with his hands resting on his stomach while his eyes shut welcoming his tired eyes. Before he could fully be asleep, he felt his phone ringing. He shoves his hands in his sweatpants pocket and when he has it, he sees Y/N name.

He didn’t think twice and immediately answered because Y/N wouldn't call him right now if she didn’t need him. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong.” He asked her.

There was a long pause before Y/N said anything, “I- hey. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help with something.” 

. .

Harry isn’t even mad that Y/N is with Jesse, he’s more upset that she was nervous to tell him what happened. Harry got up and grabbed his keys to head over to Y/N.

Harry runs down the stairs seeing his mom on the couch with a book in her hands. When she looked up, she saw Harry with his car keys in his hand. 

“I need to pick up Y/N. Her car broke down and I needed to bring it to the repair shop and pick her up from Jesse, so we could talk.” Harry messes his hair around because even though he’ll do anything for Y/N, he’s still annoyed with her and slightly nervous to see her again this soon, but she needs him. 

“Are you even ready? It hasn’t been that long since you last saw her.” Anne sounds concerned because looking at Harry’s face he doesn’t seem ready, but for Y/N he would do anything for her. 

“No, but she needs me. So, I have to be ready.” He answered truthfully. 

“I suppose. Good luck honey.” Anne said. 

“Thanks mum.” 

[just-jordie-things]

Insecurities - Richie Tozier

word count: 4319 warnings: swearing summary: Richie’s greatest fear is not being good enough for her- and It knows to use that against him ___

Richie Tozier loved his girlfriend.  He idolized her, he prioritized her, and every day that he was with her felt like a miracle.  She was his favorite person, the light of his life, and he was so goddamn in love with her that it consumed his entire being.

Thing was, (y/n) was out of his league, and his friends and peers reminded him of it, every, fucking, day.  Either with a joke about how he landed a girl like that, or a comment about how she’ll find someone better too.  His friends weren’t purposefully being assholes, and they never knew how deep their words could cut into Richie.  But he’d never told them how insecure he really was.

(y/n) never thought anything of it.  She loved Richie and that’s all that mattered.  He made her happier than she ever could have imagined herself being in this town.  In this dreary place she lived, he managed to be a ray of spontaneity and sun that she was grateful for every day.  She longed to tell him how much she loved him, she’d never gathered the courage to say it before, but always felt the words burning in her throat. She knew her friends were teasing, and never second guessed them or Richie’s feelings about it.  

That is, until Neibolt. ___

“This, is a bad fucking idea” Richie had muttered into her ear when they’d walked onto the property.

She wasn’t sure if it was out of annoyance for wasting a day that they could have spent at the arcade, or out of his own fear for trekking into the obviously haunted house.

If it was fear, she knew he wouldn’t say anything about it.  So instead, she grabbed his hand and gave him a smile.

“But it’ll make for a great story!” She’d declared.

(She has a tendency to reprimand him on his idiotic ideas, and he always argued that he would have a good story to tell later.  So when she repeated his words back to him, he glared a bit)

(y/n) winked, before giggling because Richie always made a funny face when she winked at him.  After dating her for a year or so, he has never gotten used to the sight of her winking at him.

But then again, a part of him was still in disbelief that she was his girlfriend and she was winking at him.

He tugged her closer to his side by her hand as they walked into the house.

“Oh, gross” Eddie winced, and continued to complain the further they walked into the hall.

The clubs’ steps gradually slowed.

“What the fuck?” Richie hissed, eyes narrowing while he looked around.  “This is a fucking crackhouse-“

He stopped abruptly when there was a loud creaking, and the whole group froze in place.  They went silent, ears on alert for the next haunting sound.

Richie’s hand tightened around (y/n’s), making sure that she was secure at his side.  She looked up at him, brows furrowed a bit, clearly conflicted about Bill’s plan.

Another creak sounded, and her eyes shot towards the sound, just in time to see a door slowly swinging open.  To their surprise, no one, or nothing, appeared in the doorway.  It only revealed an empty room.

When Mike took a few tentative steps towards it, (y/n’s) feet also began to move, as if on instinct, her brain told her not to let her friend investigate alone.

“(y/n)” Richie called for her in a hushed voice as she pulled her hand out of his hold.

She glanced back at him as if to say ‘I’m alright’, and then moved swiftly on the tips of her toes up to Mike.  They shared a look, before nodding their heads, and walking into the room.

As she examined the old run-down bedroom, she felt her heartbeat steady, as did her breathing.  The floorboards were worn and creaky, and the walls had indescribable stains on them, but there was nothing more to it.

“It’s just old” Mike said, a similar expression of relief on his face.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” (y/n) looked back out to their friends to assure them that they were safe.  “It was nothing-“

Before the word could even leave her mouth, the door creaked again, and slammed shut before anyone could move.

“(y/n)!” Richie was the first to leap to action, but by the time he’d gotten to the door, it was already locked.  And no matter how much he yanked and pulled on the rusty knob, it would not budge.

She was pounding her fists against the other side of it, and from the sounds of it, he was pretty sure Mike was trying to kick the door down from the other side.

“(y/n)! (y/n) it’s gonna be fine! I’m gonna get you out!” RIchie hollered, enlisting in the help of Bill and Beverly in trying to kick open the door.

But even as everyone was kicking, it was no use.  The door would rattle in it’s frame, and not crack even a little bit.

“It’s It!” Beverly declared, trying to get the boys to halt in their frantic kicking before they hurt themselves.  “Guys- Richie- we won’t be able to break it open, it’s like- cursed, or something”

He didn’t want to give up that fast, he wanted to keep kicking this door until his shoes were worn through and his feet were bruised, until (y/n) was free.

“It’s alright!” (y/n) called from the room.  “Mike found a part of the wall that’s caved in, we’re gonna try to break through it to the other side of the hall, okay?”

“W-we’ll meet you o-over there” Bill said, already heading around the corner of the hallway with Stan.  Even though it was clear she’d only been informing one person.

“Richie,” She spoke again.  “Go on, I’ll be fine, Mike’s here with me, I’ll see you in a couple minutes, okay?”

She was trying so hard to keep her voice brave, but he could hear it begin to crack, even through the door.

“I’m not fucking leaving you-”

“Richie, go, I don’t want you standing alone out there,” (y/n) ordered.  “I gotta go help Mike with the wall, see you in a minute”

He could barely hear her footsteps take off, and then leaned forward to press his ear against the wood, hoping to hear them breaking through with ease.  But now he couldn’t hear a thing.

Richie spun around, about to alert Eddie and Ben how oddly enough he couldn’t hear their friends tearing through a wall.

But Eddie and Ben weren’t there.

“Guys?” Richie hollered, breaking into a jog in hopes to catch them around the corner, where Mike and (y/n) were supposed to meet everyone.

But no one was there either.

“Hello!? Guys!? Where’d you go!?”

He began to yell a bit louder now, rushing around anywhere he could in search of his friends, but he hadn’t found, or even heard anyone.  How had they abandoned him so fast? Didn’t they notice?

“Richie?” A scratchy but familiar voice called from behind him.

He turned on his heel and was instantly relieved at the sight of (y/n).

“Oh, thank fucking god” He breathed out heavily, taking swift steps towards her.

She, however, took a sharp step backwards.

“Don’t come any closer” She snapped, and Richie froze on the spot.

“W-what-?”

“Stay the fuck back!” She screeched now, so loud that the harsh words echoed down the halls.  They seemed to ring in Richie’s ears for a lifetime.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He asked worriedly.  But he did as she asked, and didn’t move any closer to her.  “Did something happen-?”

“Jesus Richie fuck off!” She snarled now, and if that wasn’t shocking enough, she stormed up to him, and shoved him against his chest with both hands, mustering all the force she could.

Richie stumbled until he tripped over his feet and fell to the ground.  He couldn’t believe she was strong enough to push him to the ground like that.  (y/n) wasn’t frail by any means, but she shouldn’t have been able to knock him down with such ease.

“Blabber and hover- blabber and hover with you!” She was yelling down at him now, and Richie pushed himself up on shaky arms.

This was incredibly unlike her-

“You can never just leave me the hell alone! Can you!?” She went on, voice booming unnaturally with each bark.  “Always on my ass, always crowding me!”

If he wasn’t so afraid, he would have noticed how with every word, her teeth turned more ragged, and sharper.

“Do you think I enjoy it? Being stuck with you? It’s a goddamn burden! I can’t stand to be around you- I fucking hate you Richie Tozier!”

“Y-you’re not- this isn’t-” He could barely speak his throat was burning so bad from holding back tears.

This couldn’t be (y/n)... (y/n) would never…

“What, I’m not real?” The word came out in a vicious snarl, and suddenly she warped into another figure.

He wasn’t sure if this one was worse.

“You piece of shit!” Henry Bowers barked.  “Haven’t I told you to stay the fuck out of this town!?”

Richie lunged himself backwards, trying to crawl away from this horrible nightmare as fast as possible.  But the more he tried to scurry away, the worse the image in front of him became.

“You’re a freak!” (y/n) screamed in his face again.  “You’re a loser, Richie.  You think anyone would want to be with you?”

He couldn’t breathe- the tears- the panic- it all welled up inside of him and he knew he was going to explode soon.

“This isn’t real, you’re not real, you’re not her”

“Aren’t I though?” Her voice dropped to a haunting whisper, and she leaned in close to him.  “Aren’t I!?” She screamed.

Richie closed his eyes, shaking his head rapidly and hoping that when he opened them again, she’d be gone, and he’d wake up in his bedroom.  This was just one terrible fucking nightmare, it’ll be over soon-

“The real (y/n) doesn’t have the guts to fucking tell you” She snarled, reminding him of his reality.

“Stop it!” Richie yelled, unable to hold back his tears any longer.

“She’s never been able to speak up and say-”

“Go away!” He begged, voice cracking in desperation.

“She knows she’s too good for you, and let’s face it fuckface, I am too good for you”

He didn’t have it in him to beg It to leave him alone, as he broke down sobbing into his hands, enduring the cuel wrath.

“She hates you, for dragging her down, for hanging off of her like a dog,” Her tone slowly warped into something more squeaky, and masculine, until she wasn’t exactly the image of (y/n) anymore.  “Ohhh… she haaates you Richie”

When he dared to look, he was met with the gruesome sight of a circus clown.  A rather large circus clown.

“But you can stay, Richie, you can float with us!”

“No- no…. no no no!”

He covered his face again as he pleaded and wept uncontrollably.  He wished that It would just get it over with, because he couldn’t take this torture anymore.

“Richie!” A voice screamed.  Not the scream that he’d heard just moments ago, but a worried shriek.

Even still, he kept his hands planted safely over his eyes.  It couldn’t get in his face if he couldn’t see the form it had taken.

“Richie- Richie,” The voice panted again, this time soft, and close to his ear.  “Hey, it’s me” She murmured.

Gentle hands grasped onto his wrists, and pulled on his arms until he revealed his face.

He was met with the concerned eyes of his girlfriend, her brow so furrowed there were lines on her forehead, and a pout on her lips that he’d never seen there before.

“Babe,” She whispered so soft he was certain that he’d imagined that too.  “What happened?”

He flinched when she reached for him, and the action shattered her heart to pieces, but she tried her best not to show it.  Tentatively, she reached her hand out to place against his cheek, pulling her sleeve over her palm to wipe away the flow of tears.

“You’re- are you-”

“I’m real,” She nodded, beginning to realize what had happened.  “It’s me, promise”

His eyes wandered her features unsurely, and she sighed.

“Do you want me to prove it?” She murmured, and began to speak before he could even nod his head.  “On our first date, you called me sweet cheeks, and then got so embarrassed about it that you tripped and dropped your ice cream” There was a weak smile on her lips at the memory, hoping that it would be enough to calm Richie down.

He let out a shaky whimper, before surging forward and wrapping his arms around her torso.  He held her so tightly that she had to control her breaths, but it was alright because he believed her and things were going to be okay.

“It’s alright,” She cooed into his ear as he cried into the crook of her neck.  “I know, it’s awful”

One of his hands cradled the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair.  The other was fisting the material of her jacket.  He couldn’t speak, he was crying so hard, ut it was enough to know that she was here right now.

(y/n) rubbed his back in soothing circles as she held him for a few moments longer, until she knew it was time to go, and pulled away.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” She whispered, wiping his opposite cheek tenderly.  “Eddie broke his arm” She told him as she helped him to his feet, and intertwined their fingers as they raced out of Neibolt.

The others, besides Eddie, were standing in the front yard.

Eddie was being shoved into his mother’s car, while Mrs K was scolding their friends.

“I knew my boy shouldn’t be playing with the likes of you all,” She rambled, snarling at Beverly in particular.  “This is all your fault.  All your fault! I hope your proud of yourselves for maiming my boy!”

She stormed off to her car, and Eddie could barely wave out the window before she’d driven off.

“I know where It is,” Bill spoke after a beat passed.  “And n-next time we’ll come p-prepared”

Richie’s eyes widened before glaring at the boy, finding it ridiculous that he thought it was a good idea to not only come back, but to come back and retaliate.

“No next time, Bill!” Stan begged, shaking his head.

“We have to,” Beverly said.  “Ben, you said so yourself, It comes back every twenty-seven years-”

“Fine! I’ll be forty and far away from here!” He answered.

With his words, a layer of tension settled over the group.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t save Georgie,” Richie grumbled, pulling away from (y/n) to head to his bike.  “But you can still save yourself” He finished, brushing past Bill’s shoulder.

“N-no,” Bill stammered, pushing Richie back by the shoulder.  “T-take it back!”

“Face the truth, Bill! You’re chasing a lie-!”

He couldn’t even finish before Bill pushed harder, and swing a fist against Richie’s cheek.

“Bill!” (y/n) screeched, leaping forward to break them up before something could happen.

She grabbed Richie by the elbow before he could land a punch, and yanked him back while Mike grabbed a secure hold on Bill.

“Face it! We’re losers! That’s it!” Richie snarled.

He shrugged (y/n’s) hold off of him, and her eyes shot to his, broken, and hurt.

“I’m going home.  I don’t want to get fucking killed too” He muttered, and when he stormed off to his bike, Bill didn’t stop him this time.

“R-Richie?” (y/n) called brokenly, stumbling forward on wobbly legs, but it didn’t matter, he was already zooming down the street as fast as he could.

Before she could crumpe to the ground, Beverly grabbed a hold of her, hugging her against her side comfortingly.

It was silent as everyone dispersed, barely giving each other a second glance as they rode off.

Beverly hugged (y/n) tight before she got on the back of Bill’s bike.  Murmuring a soft, ‘see you later’ that (y/n) wasn’t quite convinced of.

She didn’t have the energy in her to bike home, but the only other option was to sit outside Neibolt, alone, and the sun was beginning to set, so she gathered what little strength she had left in her to slowly make her way home. ___

When she came home past dinner, covered in muck and bruises, her parents barely batted an eye.  Even as she let out a soft cry with every step up the stairs, it was like they tuned her out completely.

It had thrown her around like a ragdoll after she tried to defend Eddie.  As brave as she’d tried to be, she’d been terrified, shaking straight down to the bone as she forced herself to stand in front of him.

The demonic clown had simply swing an arm, and sent her tumbling across the ground.

It took a long shower to get all the dirt scraped off her skin.  But even as it was washed down the drain, the memories of this afternoon would haunt her for life.

Maybe Bill was right.  Maybe It needed to be stopped now, before he could just keep coming back and traumatizing a new generation of children every thirty or so years.  But even if she really wanted to kill the creature, she wouldn’t even know where to begin.  And her brain was already swarmed with a worse thought,

Was Richie done with me?

She sniffled a bit at the idea, but wiped her eyes before they could be filled with tears.

No, he was just angry, and scared, he would never… he wouldn’t just leave like that… would he?

A few knocks on her window made her jolt up in bed, nerves spreading throughout her body like electricity.  She instantly thought that It had found her, and was back to finish what he’d started.

But as she rushed to turn on the lamp sitting on her bedside table, her muscles relaxed to see it was only Richie, waiting rather impatiently for her to unlock her window.

She threw the covers off of her, and moved as quickly as she could to let him in.

As soon as she pushed the window upwards, he was crawling in, oddly silent.

“Hey,” She murmured, not wanting to alert her parents downstairs that her boyfriend had snuck in.

He’d done so a million times before, and they’ve never gotten caught, but today was a rather awful day and she didn’t want to have one more thing ruined.

“Are you feeling be-”

“We need to talk” Richie mumbled, effectively cutting her off with the upsetting words.

“O-Okay…” (y/n) answered, trying not to jump to conclusions.  “What… about..?” She asked slowly.

“I think-” He started to speak quickly, but just couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

He couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

“We- we should- we need to break up”

It was like her heart plummeted right out of her body, sending every nerve to go numb.  She had to have heard him wrong- this wasn’t like Richie- maybe this wasn’t even the real-

“I- I want to break up” He added in an even quieter voice.  She caught the crack in his words, and she shook her head in confusion.

“What?” She could barely manage to say the one word.

“I know you heard me,” Richie sighed, eyes finally flickering up to hers.  “Come on (y/n) don’t make this any more difficult than it-”

“You’re the one being difficult!” She whisper-hissed, eyes widening a bit in frustration.  “What are you doing? Wh- why are you-”

“Come on,” Richie whispered.  “Don’t do that-”

“Give me one reason why we should break up” (y/n) crossed her arms.  She wasn’t going to let him walk away that easy.  Something was up, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

“We’re not a good fit, alright?” He answered, volume raising a bit above his previous murmur.  “We don’t work, and I was a fucking idiot to think that we would”

“Richie…” (y/n) sighed in disbelief.

“You wanted an answer-”

“Where is this coming from?” She asked with a shake of her head.  “I know you don’t really want to break up-”

“Well we have to!” He yelled, and they were both silent for a minute, trying to see if her parents had heard him.

When there was no response from downstairs, she snapped back at him.

“Why?” She stressed the word, desperate for him to just fess up whatever it was that was bothering him.

“Why? Do you even have to ask, (y/n)?” Richie asked.

Her eyebrows knitted together as he spoke in such a harsh tone.  Richie never talked to her like that.

“Look at me, (y/n)! I mean, come on, it was only a fucking matter of time before you got bored and realized how much of your time you’ve wasted on me!”

If she’d thought him trying to break up was horrible, this was even worse.

“Oh, Rich-”

“I’m a loser, (y/n), don’t you see that? Don’t you see how terrible for you I am?”

He was breaking her heart with every word.

“Haven’t you heard them? What people say? What our own friends say?” He asks her, but she doesn’t answer, because she can’t.  “I am dragging you down with every second of being with you”

“N-no-” She can’t hardly choke out the word, but Richie vents on anyways.

“Might as well just end things now, before one of us gets hurt”

He turns around, as if to head back out her window, but (y/n’s) faster.  She wedges herself in between his body, shutting and locking the window before he could just walk away.

“No, s-stop running away,” She cried, and when she looks up at him, she realizes that he can’t look at her because he’s crying too.  “Richie,” She whimpers, shaky hands reaching up to cup his face, making him look down at her.  “That’s not true, none of that is true-”

“It is” He replies, brokenly.

She shakes her head, and steps closer to him.

“It lied to you,” She tells him.  “I know It probably told you some terrible, nasty things,”

Richie squeezes his eyes shut, and the next thing he knows, he’s falling to his knees.  But (y/n) follows, kneeling down with him and shuffling even closer.

“But babe,” She murmured, “It was lying, it was all a trick”

She could feel his tears slipping down his cheeks and over her fingers.

“I just- I don’t want to drag you down-”

“Drag me down?” She repeats in a whisper, thumbs stroking away his tears once more.  “Richie,” His eyes open when she says his name, soft and sweet-like.

She pushes his glasses up on top of his mess of curls so she can swipe away the tears under his eyes.

“You do nothing but lift me up,” She tells him.  “You’re my ray of sunshine in this terrible fucking town,” An anxious and uncertain smile trembles on her lips.  “And all those things you’re so worried about, I love about you,”

There’s a pause as her eyes flicker between his, before gently placing his glasses back on his nose.

“I’m in love with you,” She murmurs.  “I love you so much,” She repeats in a sigh, just in case he didn’t hear her the first time.  “So much”

A short breath of a laugh escapes him, and a small smile begins to tug on his lips as he looks at her.  He knows she means it, he can feel it, he can see it in her eyes that she’s being genuine.

He takes her hands from his face, setting them gently in her lap before cupping her face in his own hands.

“I love you too” He tells her, and before he can lean in, she’s shooting forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his firmly.

It’s unlike any other kisses they’ve shared.  It’s desperate, and careful, and loving, and conveyed every last drop of fear that they’d had in losing each other.  She’s kissing him so passionately that her chest is heaving, but she can’t bear to pull away now.

Richie holds her in his lap, and she’s wrapped up in his arms so securely that she’s sure, and she hopes, she’ll never be able to get out of them.

When her lips are swollen and her lungs are burning for oxygen, she finally leaned back slightly, but only by a few centimeters.

“You can’t leave me,” She tells him through heavy breaths.  Her eyes are still closed, but he’s staring intently at her anyways.  “I need you too much- don’t leave me”

He nods in agreement, caressing her cheek affectionately.

“Okay,” He hums, and kisses her lips chastely.  “I won’t… I won’t”

She falls forward, and embraces him tightly.

Richie’s arms wind around her lower back again, and they sit for a long time like this, catching their breath and holding onto one another firmly, so that neither can leave.

“We have to go back” Richie says after a long time.

“I know” She murmurs against his neck.

“We have to kill that fucking clown” He says, voice dropping it’s gentle tone, turning hard, and final.

“I know” She repeats, the same vengeful tone in her own voice.

Nothing was ever going to come between them again, that was for sure.

___

taglist: @thegr8kush​

xoxo ~ jordie 

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N and Spencer decide to keep seeing each other in secret. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, cockwarming, heavy petting, penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, exhibitionism, fingering, cum play maybe? Word Count: 7.5k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is... *nervous laugh* this is pure filth. Like... It’s nothing but sex scenes, y’all. Buckle in. (Also the end is a lil angsty so watch out hehehe)

———

JULY 8th

"You're sure you guys are okay without me for a little while?"

I love my mom. Really, I do.

But if she delays her bath for any longer than one more second, I'm going to burst into flames.

Thankfully it seems that Spencer is patient enough for the both of us. "Positive. You deserve to relax a little. Go. Take your bath, we'll be fine."

Mom looks to me for extra reassurance, and I give it to her with a nod.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

She turns and kisses Spencer, long and lovesick, and I want to barf. What's even worse is that when she pulls away and pats my head before retreating up the stairs, he's smiling. And he's supposed to, I know that. Part of him obviously cares about my mom, and even if he's only fucking me on the side, the fact remains that he goes to sleep next to her. That's the way it has to be.

But it still makes me incredibly envious.

It's a problem.

Mom is upstairs now, but our rule is that unless we know for certain that she's not coming into sight or earshot anytime soon, we remain distant.

Still, I make my distaste for their affections known. "You guys are gross..."

Spencer laughs, his hand sneaking over the couch cushion and grazing the end of my skirt. "Jealous, are we?"

Of course, I have to make it difficult for him. "You're a genius, you tell me..."

"Hey now... You're lucky I'm giving you any attention at all... Besides, you know the rules."

I glance over at him, practically crumbling apart at the seams under his intense gaze. It's one I've gotten used to as of late, one that rivals every smile I've ever seen him give my mother.

"Doesn't make it any easier," I mumble, glancing down at where his fingers are still toying with my skirt.

"I know..." He reaches out and touches my hand, and my skin tingles. "Come here."

Even though I can hear that the bath water has only just started running from below, I comply all the same. I scramble off the couch and return on his lap, straddling him and nesting my fingers through his hair while I lean in to kiss him.

He welcomes me with open arms and an open mouth. The moment our tongues brush, I sigh and melt into him, needing desperately to be as close as possible. Our kisses then are languid and wet, and soft. We don't want to get carried away in case we need to be alert and jump apart, so it's best to keep our bodies controlled.

But as I'm learning, around Spencer, controlling myself is painstakingly difficult.

A whine escapes me when his right hand slips under my skirt and rests along the inside of my thigh, and I shift, silently begging him to give me more.

"So impatient..." he mumbles over my mouth.

I pull away and slide my hands down over his neck and shoulders, my hips rolling forward as I pout. "I haven't had you all week. I'm lonely..."

It's true.

Once all my STD tests came back clean and I got my birth control figured out and solid, the first thing he did was tell my mom he wasn't feeling well and texted me the address to his apartment. And after I told her I was meeting up with a friend, I drove over there and got my brains completely fucked out. We spent all day under the sheets, on the couch, over the kitchen counter, and then on the floor, until I had to go home and pretend like it never happened.

Since then we'd only slept together once, and that was just over a week ago, quickly while Mom ran to the store for an onion of all things. And then Spencer had been busy with consulting on new cases that his old job wanted a little help with, and once he had free time, Mom insisted they go on a date weekend.

I pout harder, stomach churning at the memory of the look he gave me before they left—a silent, sweet goodbye that had left me empty and wanting.

But he's just amused.

A smirk ghosts over his lips, red and a little puffy from the pressure of my own against them. "So I definitely can't trust you to be quiet enough to fuck you properly..."

That warrants another whine and another roll of my hips, and I can feel his hand gripping my thigh a little tighter.

"Please... Spencer, I need you..."

His name rolling off my tongue must be what makes him give into me, because I barely have time to react before he's kissing me again, using both of his hands to lift the back of my skirt up and knead my ass.

"Wait... Are you wearing..."

I grin over his lips, wiggling my ass into his touch and utterly turned on by the fact that he knows what underwear I'm wearing just by touch.

"Mhmm," I answer, nipping his bottom lip. "Your favorite..."

The sound that rumbles in his chest as he crashes his body against mine has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He's obviously trying not to be loud, but it's hard, and that makes the sound strained. He really wants this, wants to keep me, and to do that he has to refrain from going absolutely primal right now. He has to do anything to keep this quiet.

So he pushes me off of him, and I pout, thinking he's given up until we can get a true moment alone.

But I know that isn't the case when he spins his finger and then starts undoing his pants.

"Turn around, sweetheart," he huffs, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough that his erection emerges free. "You're gonna sit here, keep quiet, and keep my cock nice and warm, understood?"

Don't have to tell me twice... I'll fucking take what I can get.

So I spin, back up, and move all my clothing to the side, my skirt lifting as I nestle into Spencer's lap and hold my panties to the side. He laughs at my eagerness, though he isn't laughing much longer once I sink down onto him and get in real close. His hands come out to grab my chest and pull me flush against his own.

The way he stretches and fills me has my eyes rolling back, a long, happy sigh falling from my lips. I wish I could say I'm being dramatic about it, but I'm really not.

I'm genuinely relieved and satisfied with the burn.

"There's my girl," Spencer muses through a sigh of his own, his breath fanning gently over my neck right before he gives it an open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slip under the baggy sweater I'm wearing and run along the planes of my stomach, then up and up, taking the fabric with him until it rests above my bare chest. Being exposed like this, right in the middle of the living room while my mom is just upstairs, excites me more than I think it should.

While Spencer kisses and licks at my neck, his hands now gently kneading my breasts, I squirm.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Ah-ah," he warns, squeezing me tight and pulling me into him more. "Relax..."

He hooks his legs around mine then, spreading them apart and somehow filling me deeper. I whine, leaning my head back onto his shoulder and trying not to roll my hips.

Instead, I settle for clenching myself around him, and that seems to be the right move.

"Atta girl... Lay back and relax... Just feel me filling you up nice and slow..."

"Mmmm," I respond in kind as his hands loosen and glide down my body.

He's light with his touch, though the kisses on my neck feel hungry, and his cock feels heavy and thick inside me. It's a beautiful contrast, really, making me feel so full and yet so light, like I'm a raincloud.

Soon his fingers dip under my skirt and cover my hand, which is working at keeping my panties off to the side. He traces the curves of my fingers with his own, mumbling praises and scattering kisses along the side of my neck. And I'm distracted enough that I almost don't feel his other hand make gentle contact with my clit until I gasp from the sharp sensation.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he starts rubbing in slow, precise circles.

"That feel good, princess?"

"Uh huh," I breathe out, trying to keep still. My other hand digs into my knee in hopes that I can stay grounded and focused on keeping still. But despite that, I'm feeling rather calm. Satisfied...

Right where he wants me.

"Mmm..." He hums happily into my skin, continuing to kiss my neck while working my clit.

And I have no idea how long we lay there. It feels like it could be hours.

The TV is on, but we're not paying any attention to it. In the back of my mind I know that Mom could be done with her bath at any minute, but it's been too long without Spencer inside me... And even though he's not actually fucking me, just having him this close and feeling him touch me, fill me, breathe me in...

God, I never want it to stop.

I'm almost on the verge of coming, but he removes his hand from me and slides them up my stomach again.

I whine at the loss of orgasm, but he pays it no mind. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna start moving..."

I start to get excited, wiggling in his lap a little.

With a dark laugh, he brings his hands to my breasts, kneading them gently and nipping my earlobe. Getting my attention...

"But you're not gonna stop until I fill that slutty little cunt with my cum, got it? I don't care if you come more than once. I don't care if you come at all... I don't care if your mom comes down here and sees..."

I swear I almost come on the spot from his words alone.

And then his voice is somehow even darker, seeping through my skin and settling into the very deepest parts of me.

"You will not stop until you make me come, am I clear?"

I wouldn't deny him if I could. I'm so damn whipped by this man, so eager to please and be near him that he could ask me to do any fucking thing on the planet and I would.

My rational brain might have second-guessed that feeling if it hadn't been horny as fuck...

And so I get to it, maneuvering my hips and working Spencer's cock like my life depends on it. And honestly, it kind of does, because if my mother comes down and catches us I'm dead.

Despite the urgency, though, I relish every second of it. I try to remember every sensation vividly because I don't know when I'll get to feel it again. So every time I sit back down on his dick, I clench it on the way up, because I know that drives him wild and it also means I get to feel him grab me tighter.

I can't see him, not even really when I turn my head, but I can picture how he's probably biting his lip, trying not to be loud. His eyes are probably shooting daggers at the ceiling, praying to the heavens above that my mom won't come down.

But it looks like the heavens above have decided to damn us to hell.

That unmistakable sound of the drain in the tub rumbles through the ceiling and down the inside of the walls as the water travels through the pipes, and my heartbeat races faster than it ever has.

Spencer tugs my hair then, pulling my head to meet his shoulder once more. "You better hurry, little girl..."

That's when I finally come. My cunt throbs and shakes around him as I bounce as quietly as I can. His grip in my hair is tighter, urging me to keep going, and the sharp sensation seems to extend my orgasm a little.

I whimper and whine as I feel it, and that seems to be what does him in.

"Fuck, Y/N, that's it... That's my girl..."

Four more bounces from me is all it takes, and then he's holding my hips in place. He grunts as quietly as possible into my shoulder and fucks into me slowly, filling me to the brim with his cum and breathing harshly into my skin.

I can hear Mom walking around upstairs, most likely getting dressed, which means she'll be down any minute...

"Time to get up, princess," Spencer whispers a moment later, letting go of my hips.

I turn my head into his neck, whining. "I don'wanna..."

"I know, I know... But you have to."

I know he's right. But I can't just get up and lose him so quickly. I want to hold on for as long as possible.

So I tilt my head up and bring his lips to mine. Thankfully he doesn't reject me, instead returning my affections and sighing into my mouth. He's still sheathed inside me, and I can feel his cum very slowly starting to drip down.

I have to get up now...

My mouth reluctantly parts from his and pouts. I expect him to return it with a sad smile, but his lips are rather mischievous.

He smirks, lifting me off of him and quickly pulling my panties back in place. His cum instantly soaks into the thin, lavender fabric, and it only reminds me of his absence.

But then Spencer spins me around on the heels of my feet and presses his hand firmly to my clothed, sopping wet cunt under my skirt, rubbing it in and making me whimper out at the overstimulation.

"I missed you," he whispers sincerely. Sweetly...

I can't help but smile as I lean down to kiss him one more time.

"I missed you, too."

JULY 23rd

I've been looking forward to this weekend since Mom brought it up after her bath—A call from work. A weekend business trip across the country.

She would be gone for almost a whole week.

Spencer's already started on his coursework for the next school year so he'll be busy most days, but at night? That's when he's all mine.

The only hard part about this, really, is containing my excitement. Just yesterday Spencer got me alone and warned me that I better keep my cool and be patient. Though, the way he said it was hardly a bad thing considering it gave me an excuse to feel his hands on me, even in the laundry room where, more or less, this had all started.

Even now I can still feel their warmth and their heft as they grope and paw at my breasts while he attacks my neck with sloppy kisses.

But right now he's not here, and as much as I can't wait to spend the week with him, my mom is also going to be gone for that long.

Just because I'm fucking her boyfriend on a regular basis doesn't mean I don't still love her.

Though, the thought of it all makes me a little uneasy—I don't know what the future holds. I know Spencer obviously cares about my mom, but if it really gets to a point where they've been together long enough, would he ever marry her?

And then what?

It's one thing for him to be my mom's boyfriend, who doesn't live here and only stays when he can... But it's a whole other one to be my stepfather. And what if my mom wants to have another kid?

No.

I'm not even going to think about it... If it ever gets to that point, then we'll deal with it, but right now I've only known Spencer for nearly 2 months, and it's way too soon to be thinking about any of that right now.

"You gonna be alright without me for a week?"

I curl into Mom's side, laughing and thankful for her distraction. "I spend almost a whole year away at college without you, I think I can survive five days."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I wish you could just stay here with me forever."

"Ha, no you don't. I'm a menace."

"Only when you eat all my food and then complain that you're starving..."

My eyes roll affectionately. "Mom. That was one time, and I was fifteen and dramatic."

She kisses the top of my head and then rests her chin on it. "Then my point stands... You were only a menace when you were fifteen. Now you're an angel."

I can tell she's sincere, and when I tell her Thank you, it feels incredibly deceitful—Especially when she starts humming my favorite song and brushing through my hair with her fingers, just like she used to do to get me to sleep as a kid. The foggy feeling it sends through my bloodstream reminds me that I'm definitely not the same person I was back then.

Although, it is true that some things never change, and within minutes I'm soundly asleep in my mother's arms.

———

When Spencer and I are sending her off at the airport the next morning, my heart thrums wildly in my chest.

"You have Spencer's number in case of an emergency?" she asks me in a haste.

"Yes, Mom. For the thousandth time, I have his number, and I have Grandma's number, and I have just about every other number you've ever given me for emergency contacts."

She gives me The Look.

"Yes, I have it. And I'll be okay. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too," she says, pulling me in for one last breath-reducing hug, though, that's not truly what knocks the breath from my lungs.

She goes to Spencer next, reaching up to give him a goodbye kiss. I'm expecting it. I'm okay with it.

But this is unlike any other kiss I've seen them share, and it admittedly makes me jealous.

Spencer almost has her off the ground, pressing her close to him and kissing her deeply. Her hands weave through his hair as he tilts his head, and this time I can see his tongue slip into her mouth.

"O—kaaay, my eyes are burning... Thank you for that..."

I know I can get away with that because it's a completely normal reaction to seeing your mother make out with anyone, so I don't feel bad about it one bit. And I especially don't feel bad about the warning look he gives me over my mom's shoulder when she comes to give me another hug.

But then she's gone, and minutes later we're leaving the airport parking lot, and I can't seem to shake my jealousy. Even when his hand rests politely on my knee.

The whole way home I only barely acknowledge his presence, giving him half-hearted smiles and remaining mostly still when he glides his hand higher up my leg. By the time his fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, I think he knows something is up, because it stops there.

He waits until we get in the house to bring it up.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

I plop myself down on the couch with an overexaggerated sigh. "Kinda..."

I know Spencer used to be a profiler, and really, it's not that hard to figure out what's wrong with me. But it's still a little scary how easily he just knows.

"You know I had to," he says, walking over and standing in front of me. "Keeping up appearances and whatnot."

He's right. And it's a consequence of what we've decided to do, so really I'm in no place to complain.

Still, I reach out and pull him in by the belt loops, leaning my face in rather close to his crotch. "You know... Actually, I think you just like making me jealous..."

The smile that dances over his lips is amused and downright sinful. "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I drawl, sliding my hands to the front of his pants and rubbing him through the fabric.

He laughs. "Yeah, you are pretty cute when you're all huffy."

With big eyes and a fluttering in my stomach at the way he looks down at me, I feel that pressing of jealousy start to lift off my chest. I know that within an hour he'll have me pinned under his body somehow, and the thought allows my response to come out clearly and without question.

"So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

———

We're already out of our clothes by the time we make it upstairs. And when we finally get into my bedroom, I'm about to shut the door and then Spencer stops me.

"No one's home, sweetheart... Leave it open."

He takes two steps and has me in his arms, his hands sliding down my back and resting over my ass. And when he gives it a squeeze, he grins down at me. "You're gonna be loud for me, understand?"

"Hey, that's on you," I tease, wiggling against him. "You want me loud? Make me loud."

His grip on my ass gets tighter as he pulls me closer, and I yelp out. "Don't challenge me, little girl... You'll regret it."

I laugh then, calling back to his earlier statement. "Aw... You're pretty cute when you're all huffy..."

"Alright, fine."

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, and his hands are rooting in my hair. The rough carpet underneath me already burns, but I know in the end it's gonna be so worth it.

Spencer brings me close to his exposed crotch and tilts my head up to look at him. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of your pretty little mouth, got it? And you're not gonna do a damn thing but take it like a good girl."

I would have asked him if that was a threat or a promise if he hadn't immediately shoved his dick in my mouth. It has me wet in an instant, the way he just pulls me onto him and starts fucking my face with an urgency that seems to contradict all the time we have. He needs me now, with no time for teasing or pleasantries, and I fucking love it.

Which is why I do as I'm told, enjoying every second as he holds my head still and snaps his hips forward, his velvety smooth cock gliding over my tongue and down my throat with ease. It doesn't take long for my eyes to water, my vision going blurry and my body growing hot. My face is angled straight ahead, but I still find a way to look up at him, and from this low angle?

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

No matter how many times I've been on my knees like this, staring up at Spencer as he loses himself at my hands (or rather my mouth, if you want to get technical), I swear I could never tire of it.

His eyes are glaring down at me as he concentrates, his arms are out in front of me as they hold my head in place, and his pubic bone and sculpted hips are right there, moving ferociously in front of my eyes. He's so deep in my throat for a few seconds, holding me down while I gag around him, that my nose is buried in the soft trail of hair that gathers on his skin, and I want to stay there forever.

But my gag reflex isn't much durable for more than fifteen seconds, much less forever, so I have to pull back.

Spencer pulls me off of him completely, a trail of spit following my lips and then detaching until it lands along my chin. I blink away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes and pout up at him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're supposed to be making it up to me..." My voice is scratchy and a little hoarse now, but I know it'll probably be worse if Spencer really thinks he can make me as loud as he says (which I truly don't doubt for a second).

He tugs me up by the hair, and I whine as I get to my feet, my knees aching already. And then his mouth is on my cheek, gently kissing away a tear. "Aw, I thought you liked having my dick in your mouth..."

"I do..."I giggled a little, nestling into his body and feeling his erection, now slick with my saliva, press up against the inside of my thigh. "But I like it better in other places..."

"Mmm, you're right... I do, too..."

I certainly hadn't been expecting that answer.

But it doesn't surprise me when he walks us over to the foot of my bed and pushes me onto it. "Hands and knees, princess."

My knees still burn from the carpet, and I'm sure this squeaky-ass mattress won't alleviate the pain at all, but if there's one thing I've learned since having sex with Spencer it's that pain is all part of the pleasure.

So I don't question it. My limbs submit to his simple command, and once I turn away from him and perch myself on my hands and knees, I can feel him climbing on the bed and crawling up the backside of my body. His hands roam my ass and my waist, and within seconds he has his cock nestled against me.

He moves nice and slow at first, dragging the length of him through my slick cunt and ghosting the skin of my backside with his hands.

"Remember... Nice and loud, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

Like I could ever deny him. Even though I like to tease him and push his buttons, I couldn't think of a single thing in the moment that I'd ever deny him.

So he finally pushes into me, stretching me out well and good, and a low groan slowly rolls off my tongue like a waterfall. And I'm not doing it for his sake; It's like he draws it out of me like a syringe, and I'm utterly powerless against it... Against him.

Like I need a metaphor to explain how I'm well and truly his bitch...

"There she is..." Spencer breathes, reaching the very deepest part of me and staying there. "There's my obedient little girl... Tell me what you want."

I turn my head to get as good of a look at him as I can, and give him the pout to end all pouts. "I want you to fuck me, hard... Please?"

His answer is a gentle push forward, his body leaning over mine to take my hands and pin them behind my back, which pulls me up towards him so that my back is nearly flush with his chest. His hands are so big that one of them is able to hold both of my wrists while the other gathers my hair and tugs.

I feel like I'm being held by a bungee cord, especially when Spencer starts snapping his hips and pounding into me roughly. My knees are pushing into the springs of the mattress and lifting again with each thrust, and I can't help the stream of whimpers and shouts that escape me at the whole experience.

He lets go of my hair in favor of reaching around and palming my left tit, his pace never faltering for a second. Everything he's doing is precise and swift and so fucking good that my eyes can hardly stay open.

"I'm hearing you, pretty girl, but I don't think you're quite loud enough..." he grumbles in my ear, letting go of me and gently pushing me back down on the bed. He slips out of me and I whine at the loss, but I don't have to worry about it much longer when I feel him lay down over top of me and slam into me hard.

I yelp out, my hands reaching out and clutching the comforter for dear life. Spencer's hands, meanwhile, push up off the mattress on either side of my hips to lift himself up, and then he's grabbing my waist and pushing me into it while he fucks me.

When I instinctively shove my face down and try to muffle myself, though, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to tug my hair, pulling my head up. His hips pause, pressed deep into my backside, and I can feel how he's struggling to keep still.

"Uh-uh... No one's home, princess... Let it all out..."

He pulls back and plows into me again, and this time his pace is frustratingly slow. With each slam forward my voice grows louder, begging him for more with incoherence until I start to feel myself grow tense with pleasure.

"You're almost there, baby, I can feel it," Spencer breathes. His voice is far away, and I wish he was closer, his breath on my neck and his lips not far behind. But for now I gladly settle for his hands, tight and bruising on my hips, and the force of his pelvis as it collides brutally and wonderfully with my ass.

What finally brings me sweet release is the sound of him grunting out one word. A command. And once again it's like I'm powerless under his spell.

"Come."

I do, and he fucks me thoroughly through each wave. Even once I've finished, he chases his own orgasm for minutes.

By the sounds he's making and the way his hips falter here and there, I can tell he's close, but he wants to make it last. I want to tell him that we have all weekend, to maybe tease him a bit, but I'm so fucked out and incoherent that I couldn't have said a single word if I tried.

So I lay there and take it with a weary smile on my face, ever the whiny, whimpering mess that I am, and patiently wait for the moment he decides to let go.

And when he does, it's the most glorious feeling in the world. I'm tired, yes, but never tired enough to lift myself and wiggle my ass back into him, clenching myself around him and relishing in the way he grunts out my name. He empties himself into me, and I hum, positively satisfied and warm.

Before I know it, I'm sinking down within the comfort of my blankets, and I rest my head in my arms, the pillow still a little too far out of reach. And though I'm content, I still whine out sadly when Spencer retreats and leaves me feeling empty.

I'm about to tell him to get over here and cuddle me when I feel his weight redistribute, and it isn't long before he has his head between my legs, his tongue acting as a net for the cum that drips out of me. He barely touches me, only the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue darting over my skin. I can't tell if I'm thankful because of the relief or if I want the burn to go on forever.

In the end, I don't really have a choice.

He pushes his tongue up, sweeping over my dripping cunt and cleaning me up. Suddenly his mouth is everywhere, making the most delicious sounds and bringing me closer to another orgasm, and all I can do is let it happen. My weary smile is joined by a fluttering pair of eyelids and a string of whimpers that are so small they don't dare drown out the words Spencer is grumbling between my legs.

Some of which, I can hear, sound out, "Another one..."

His finger adds to the mix, coming up and rubbing my clit in tight circles as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made, and within seconds I'm a writhing mess at his undoing.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, only that one second I'm tensing with another orgasm and the next I'm having my limbs moved.

Spencer is beside me in an instant, his face coming into view as I feel my breathing slow to a steadier pace. The longer I wait, the more focused I am on his features, soft and even a little concerned as he strokes some of the hair from my face.

"How are you feeling?"

The smile that beams across my face is just about the most natural thing I'd ever felt. And it seems to bring out those bright glints of adoration in his eyes that only ever serve to make my heart flutter, which makes what I tell him even more true.

"I'm happy."

JULY 27th

Waking up to Spencer next to me, while a daily occurrence these past few days, is still possibly the most surprising and comforting feeling in the world.

Our bodies never part. From the moment we lay down to sleep until the moment we wake up and decide it's time to start doing necessary daily things, not one inch of skin is untouched. Even when showering.

I think back to yesterday morning, where he dragged me out of bed because he had to pee and didn't want to leave me. I was slumped over the backside of his body while he went and then in his arms again while he ran us a shower to wake up.

It brings the widest smile to my face, however sleepy it may also be.

"What are you smiling for?"

I squint one eye open and see that Spencer is staring at me. I hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Just thinking about yesterday..."

He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, my face instantly drawn to the crook of his neck. "Mmm," he hums as I nestle in and press a sleepy kiss to the bare skin at the column of his throat. "Which part?"

"Our shower."

I feel his thumb then, rubbing back and forth over my hip as clearly as I can feel him smile against the top of my head. "That was fun, wasn't it..."

"Mhmm," I agree. My lightly tongue traces over his collarbone before I kiss it again. "Our shower is much better equipped for sex than yours."

"So... What you're saying is that shower sex is out of the question this morning?" he confirms with a laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..."

"Well then, princess, what uhh... What alternatives do you think we should try out?"

I start to laugh when he pulls my leg up over his waist and hoists me over on top of him. My face remains buried into his neck, though I trail my lips up and up until I reach his jaw.

"Hmm... What if I just ride you and see where it takes us?"

When my lips finally reach his cheek, Spencer shifts and captures them in a long, butterfly-inducing kiss before pulling away with a smile and brushing the hair from my face. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

It helps that I can already feel him hardening beneath me, and from the moment I felt his hands on me, I'd been aroused.

Though, as soon as I line him up and get ready to start our morning the right way, his phone rings on the bedside table. I'm tempted to keep going, but he half pushes me off of him when he reaches and reads the name.

"It's your mom."

That instantly kills my mood.

With a dramatic sigh and a pout, I hop off of him and curl up under the covers, letting him answer.

"Good morning," he chirps rather happily, and I try not to imagine my moms smile on the other end of the line. Thankfully I can't hear her, but I can still see Spencer smiling as he greets her and goes through all the pleasantries that come with a long distance relationship; I miss yous and how are yous...

I wonder if he really does miss her. He must, at least a little, right?

I'm staring straight ahead now, picking at my nails while I wait for them to finish talking, but something feels off.

I can feel Spencer's eyes on me.

But then he asks, "What are you wearing?" through the phone with a voice so playful and seductive, and I snap my head around, glaring at him.

"Really?" I mouth.

The smirk on his face makes me want to chuck his phone across the room.

"Mmm," he hums, looking me dead in the eye. And the next time he speaks, I swear he's talking directly to me. "Why don't you take it off... I want to talk you through some things..."

I know my mom is hearing the roughness in his voice through the phone, but right now I can see his eyes, hungry as they rake over my body once I slowly peel the blanket away and reveal myself to him, and I know that his main goal isn't to get my mom off.

It's to finish what we started before she'd interrupted.

"Touch yourself for me, baby? Nice and slow. Just relax..."

He softly crawls over to me, keeping the phone to his ear with one hand while the other takes my knees and spreads them apart.

I start to touch myself as instructed, but he swats my hand away and winks, nestling between my legs. I lean up on my elbows and tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this, when he leans his other cheek into my thigh.

"You know what I'd do to you right now If I was there?" A small pause. And then, "I'd use my fingers to slowly stretch you open... Feel you contract around me..."

His fingers do exactly like he says, and I have to stop myself from making any sound. The evil grin growing on his face as he does it all makes it even harder.

"I'd finger-fuck you nice and slow," he continues in a voice just above a whisper. "Until you're begging me for more."

When his eyes meet mine, once more I want to lean forward, snatch his phone, and smash it on the floor. I want him to utterly devour me, without any interruptions or avoidances at getting caught.

But he's such a fucking tease.

Mom must be talking on the other end, because Spencer is silent, slowly fucking me with his fingers and watching them intently as they disappear inside me. Entranced... The thought of her speaking to him and holding his attention makes me jealous— Sure, he's fucking me right now, but really, she's the one calling the shots.

I lean my head back in frustration, letting out the tiniest of whines and grinding my hips up into his hand, hoping and pleading for more.

A low laugh leaves him. "Please, what?"

It's not lost on me that my mom must have asked for more from him at the same time I did... It cements just how absolutely fucked this whole situation is, and yet I can't help but clench around his fingers in earnest, silently pleading with him to go on.

He removes his fingers from me and I sigh out, trying not to disrupt their call.

"And... How would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, looking at me with an evil grin and knowing damn well I can't actually answer.

After he gets her answer, he climbs up on his knees and spreads my legs further, throwing one of them up on his shoulder while he leaves the other on the bed. Since he only has one hand to work with, he gestures to it and I help him out, lifting my other leg up to my chest and holding it with one arm to let him get inside at a good angle.

"Yeah, and how do you want it, baby?" He lines himself up with me and very slowly sinks the head of his cock in, holding it and running his hand along my stomach. "I'm thinking... I'd like to fuck you so slow you're practically writhing beneath me..."

I stick my tongue out at him, and then without warning he slams into me. I bring a hand to my mouth and bite down on my finger, trying not to make a sound.

"You're gonna be patient... And you're gonna let me take my time... Until you're nice and desperate... Whining out for me like a good little whore..."

Each sentence is punctuated with another thrust, hard and deep, followed by a short pause, and it's all I can do not to cry out his name and beg him to go faster.

Mom must be talking on the line again, because Spencer doesn't say a word as he fucks me. His pace doesn't pick up or slow, and his own self control starts to recede—I can see it in his features. I can also feel it in the way his free hand grips my leg. He wants to go faster, he wants to lose control, and this is killing him just as much as it's killing me.

But then he pants into the phone, his voice breaking a little as he pauses and rolls his hips into me, slow and burning. I whine into my hand as quietly as possible, and he asks the question that will seal my fate.

"Where do you want it?"

I wait, clenching around him and praying for the result I want.

And then he laughs. "Yeah? You like when I paint you with my cum, huh?"

I shake my head, silently begging him to resist and stay inside me, but he only shrugs as if to say, Sorry about your luck, and then pulls out, leaving me whiny and desperate.

Just like he said.

And then, he comes all over me, stroking himself fast and hard. Even though I've still yet to feel any sort of relief, seeing him in front of me like this, feeling his warmth dance across my skin in warm spurts, and hearing him groan out as he watches my body gladly accept it all...

It's quite honestly the most satisfying thing I've ever seen.

I can't say I'm not happy, though, when he slumps down and pants, sighing out a few goodbyes to my mom and then tossing his phone on the floor when she hangs up.

He smiles at me then, and I pout.

"You're evil..."

"Mmm, you love it," he drawls, leaning down and starting to dart his tongue over the mess he made on my stomach. Meanwhile his finger finds its way inside me again, and I feel myself start to turn into a writhing mess once more.

And he's right.

I do love it.

JULY 29th

Approaching the front door with Mom in step behind me, knowing that Spencer awaits for her on the other side isn't what makes my heart jump out of my chest.

It's the look on both of their faces when they see each other.

Though I push Mom forward to go see him, it nearly breaks me seeing her run into his arms. He picks her up and spins her around, reminiscent of their little moment at the airport, and the pure happiness on her face specifically makes my stomach twist.

This time it isn't jealousy.

It's guilt.

She's... incredibly happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy before. She's positively beaming as she hugs him tight and buries her face into his chest.

And when he looks past her head and looks over at me, I feel it.

The heartache.

Spencer's eyes burn holes into my own, and fill them with a sympathy that makes me feel more wounded than comforted.

I wonder then if he can see it on my face; The way I'm trying not to break down and cry... The way I'm only holding myself together by the weak smile I'm wearing, both to assure him that I'm fine and also to feign happiness for my mother, rather than the aching envy and sadness that festers within every crevice of my soul.

I offer to grab more of Mom's things from the car and dart right back out the door to avoid them for a little while. Maybe to also get some fresh air, even though I'd just been outside less than a minute ago.

After flinging open the trunk of the car, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chest start to tighten at the realization that I might be starting to fall in love with him.

A man who isn't mine, and who could never be.

———

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[shiraishi-mai]

[2:00am]

You sat at the end of the table, swaying slightly in your seat. A department event was tonight and your friends finally convinced you to leave the house for once, claiming it would cheer you up.

"And I hate to admit it, but when he's nice, he's amazing," you sniffled. "And handsome."

You grabbed your friend's hands. "Like realllly pretty." You frowned.

"I hate him."

Your classmate looked at your friend amused.

"Is she going on about him again?" He sighed nodding.

"Damn she's been going at it for a while. Three weeks of just ranting about how horrible he was and how in love she was and crying."

"Why'd he have to say all that terrible stuff," you mumbled as you propped your face on your elbow. "Everything was so perfect." Your head nodded downward.

"Did you know she even had a boyfriend?"

"She blurted it out one day when Koko made fun of her for being single. But she studies all the time like she's in the library early in the morning, goes to classes, then studio, and I don't know when she even sleeps let alone have time to get a boyfriend."

"Or even hang out with him?" She spends her weekends either working or at the studio." Your friend frowned. "I kept trying to get her out of the apartment but-" they glanced at your half asleep figure. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea."

Their eyes widened as you laid your head on the table, cheek squished against the wood and facing away from them.

"y/n, y/n do you want to go home?" your friend tentatively asked.

"Nope, all good!" you threw a thumbs up high enough for him to see behind you without moving your head. "I'm just going to try to get the room to stop rocking." He nodded hesitantly and slowly your friends started conversing about school and other things while you tried to focus on your breathing. You closed your eyes in an attempt to reduce the strong pounding in your temple.

The door to the bar opened and a tall figure walked in scanning the bar. When his eyes landed on you, he drew in a sharp breath as he took in your slumped figure. Even half-passed out drunk, hair mussed, and head plopped on the table, you were so damn pretty.

"Is she sleeping," a familiar voice came from beside you and your eyes tightened in response. You were too out of it to register it and frankly to exhausted to care about whatever was happening around you.

"I don't think so," your other friend said, "But she was drinking a lot."

"y/n, let's go home." The voice was closer to your face now and you could almost feel the warmth radiating from the figure lowered in front of you.

"My head hurts," you whined.

"I know baby, let's get you some painkillers and then you can lie down."

Baby? He's real? Your friend mouthed at your other friend. He was shocked as he observed the very large man crouching in front of you with a soft expression. His yellow hair was a bit damp and his baby face had faint dark circles under his eyes. And you were right, he was handsome. They didn't expect your ex-boyfriend to look like that.

"Let's go pretty girl," he repeated and you slowly opened your eyes.

"'Tsumu I'm tired."

He swallowed as he felt the ache in his chest grow worse. You sounded so tired. A stark contrast to your usual lively self. Were you sleeping properly? Eating? You had a tendency to forget to eat...

You gazed at him and he resisted the urge to stroke your cheek.

"I know. I'm sorry." He frowned. "There's food at home though. Maybe that will make you feel better?"

You gave him a dreamy smile, "Yay food. Okay."

"Okay," he repeated, standing up while you attempted to.

"I don't think she would want you taking her if she was sober," your friend frowned. "y/n didn't you say this morning you didn't want to see him? What if he does something weird?" Atsumu opened his mouth with an offended expression when you said, "It's fine. He's an asshole but he wouldn't pull anything."

"Besides," you breathed, "I'm going to pretend tonight didn't happen anyway."

Ouch. Atsumu thought as you grabbed onto his wrist for support as you made your way out of the bar. When the cool air finally hit you, you sighed in relief as the throbbing in your head finally decreased. There was a small walk to the main road where the cabs were and you debated kicking off your shoes.

A squeal came from your mouth as you realised you were being picke dup.

"This'll be faster," Atsumu said as he carried you bridal style. He wasn't wrong and you didn't want to walk anyway so you just wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into his warmth.

Having you in his arms and watching you automatically nuzzling into his chest made Atsumu clench his teeth, upset at the whole situation. If he hadn't messed everything up, maybe they would have been at home, snuggling or watching a movie. Or he could have gone with her and met her friends and they would have gone home happily, safely with each other.

***

When you reached the apartment, you fumbled with your keys before stumbling in and turned to stare at Atsumu as he stepped in after you.

"I'm just going to make sure you get to bed and don't hurt yourself." He said with his hands raised. Your face was expressionless as you just turned and walked into your room, flopping on the bed.

"y/n you need to change," he said following you in. "And you said you hate waking up with makeup."

"I don't care," you said quietly and Atsumu closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath as he walked over.

"Princess, sit up for me? Please?"

You sat up sleepily rubbing your eyes.

"Leg," he ordered and you stuck it out in front of you so he could take your boot off. After doing the same with the other, you watched him disappear into the bathroom.

Is he actually here? You thought hazily. He shouldn't be right? I should kick him out.

But you felt the fatigue in your bones and couldn't find the energy to yell or tell him to leave. After the breakup, balancing everything in your hectic life and doing it all with a smile when all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and do nothing was apparently unsustainable.

Seeing Atsumu made you want to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He was your support and had always helped you through bad days. It was ironic that the person you wanted to comfort you and talk about everything with was the cause of the problem.

You were staring at the floor when you felt something damp on your face. Atsumu was slowly dabbing at your cheeks with a wipe, gently taking off your makeup. He wouldn't meet your eyes as you stared at him. His eyes were tired too and something in them didn't look right. HIs entire face seemed less...bright?

"Close your eyes for me." He shook his head, resisting the urge to kiss you and continued.

When you opened them back up he was finishing taking off the last bit of lipstick, mouth slightly open and then smiling softly when he said, "Okay done."

I'm still in love with you. You felt the words bubbling on your tongue.

I love you so much. He felt selfish at the thought.

You sighed and began unbuttoning your shirt and Atsumu's eyes widened.

"H-hey," pink tinged his ears, "Um I'll go get you some water."

It's not like you haven't seen me naked before. You slipped on a shirt thrown on the floor and pulled shorts on.

"You're wearing my shirt," he commented when he came back in. You glanced down and remembered how you had worn it for the past few weeks, trying to find any form of comfort from the hurt you felt.

"It doesn't smell like you anymore," you mumbled, crawling under the blankets. The instant relief you felt as you laid down almost made you moan. Atsumu didn't reply as he gently set the glass of water by your bed stand.

"I guess I'll go now," he said, standing a bit awkwardly and picking up his jacket from the chair. He froze when he reached the door as he heard a quiet sniffle. The desire to be in his arms was driving you crazy and you felt your willpower crumbling.

"Could you stay," you bit your lip and kept your eyes closed. "At least until I fall asleep?"

There was a silence and you cursed yourself for asking, feeling another pang in your chest at the rejection.

You felt the mattress dip and your eyes opened in shock as Atsumu laid down carefully beside you on top of the blanket. He stuck an arm under your neck while the other wrapped around your back and moved you closer to his chest. He smelled like home.

Your tears had finally stopped and both of you sighed in relief as the tightness in your chests lightened considerably and your bodies relaxing for the first time in a while.

"Does your head still hurt?" he asked quietly.

"A bit."

You felt a hand begin to stroke your hair, smoothing out any tangles before resting on your cheek.

"I miss you," he said to the darkness.

"Me too."

"I'm sorry," his thumb stroked your cheek.

"Okay." you moved up to place your head in the crook of his neck and he rested his chin on top of your hair, tightening his arms.

***

You woke up confused. How did I get home?

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a box of meds and a note stuck on top.

"I got you some hangover meds and coffee should be made in the pot. I know you hate waking up alone but I thought it'd be better if I wasn't here. I know it doesn't mean much but, I still love you."

Your lip trembled and you looked up at the ceiling to keep your tears from falling.

"You're such an ass," you whispered. He still loved you but you had already forced Atsumu Miya out of your heart and there was no going back now.

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

[writing-in-a-chipotle]

Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 20 - The Compass [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.

Word Count: 4000

Summary: Coming home can be unpleasant.

After getting a phone call from the FBI, you were now sure of one thing:

Karma really needed another hobby other than messing with you, and this break up was definitely not going the way it was supposed to go.

For starters, people who broke up with each other were not supposed to see each other this much. You had different lives, different social circles, different jobs and somehow universe kept pushing you two in each other’s space.

To make things worse, the last time you talked to Garcia she had offhandedly mentioned Luke dragging Spencer to a nightclub much to his displeasure and introducing him to a friend of his. Naturally, your mind was full of images of Spencer in a happy relationship, eventually moving to a house in the suburbs with her and having kids and all that.  

“I don’t know what Luke is thinking,” Garcia said, “But I’m two seconds away from pulling him aside and giving him a piece of my mind. Reid is obviously still not over you, ambushing him to introduce him to a girl won’t change that.”

Needless to say, you had been in a terrible mood for the last couple of days.

“What’s taking her so long?” you checked your wristwatch and Nolan looked at you over his newspaper.

“Oh she’s talking to the board of the charity auction,” he said, “There are some last minute changes, apparently.”

You heaved a sigh and checked the time again, “I can’t stay for long,” you murmured and Nolan raised his brows.

“Oh? In a hurry?”

“Me and Spencer and…well, some of his team will go by the woods,” you said, “They found some bones near dad’s cabin close to the weekend house and they think it might help me remember where the rest is buried.”

He made a face, “That’s disturbing.”

“Nah, I thought going on a dead body remains hunt with my ex in the woods near one of my childhood trauma places would be romantic,” you deadpanned, “You don’t do that with your exes?”

“Not really?”

“Oh man you’re missing out.”

He let out a chuckle and shook his head, “I take it things haven’t improved on the heartbreak front?”

“I wouldn’t know, apparently his friend is setting him up with someone.”

“Mm, let me guess,” he mused, “Your plan is to do nothing about it?”

“No, I’m actually following your example,” you smiled at him sweetly, “I’ll just wait for decades and hope the girl turns out to be a serial killer.”

He tilted his head. “Touché.”

“Aw thank you,” you pushed at the food in your plate, “No seriously, what can I do? I can’t just go to him and tell him not to date other people. We broke up— I broke up with him.”

“You could explain the reason behind that.”

“I can’t do that.”

He clicked his tongue, “Well then, I suggest you get ready just in case he happens to ask for your help planning his wedding.”

“You’ve been absolutely no help at all Nolan, I appreciate that.”

“I’m offering you my wisdom and you’re not taking it,” he held up his hands, gesturing surrender, “I also suggested to get his superiors to fix a meeting with him to talk to him about certain boundaries and mistakes but…”

“Get his superiors— I’m sorry, what?”

“I play poker with the head of the department he works under.”

“Of course you do.” You sipped your coffee, “When did you suggest that exactly?”

“Oh not to you, to your mother,” he nodded to himself as he saw the look on your face, “Yeah. But then I saw how it could not only damage some professional relationships, but also it’s better to let young people solve their own problems, no matter how easy it is to solve them with an outsider’s influence.”

You pulled your brows together.

“Try again.”

“I asked your mother and she said no.”

“Oh thank God.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yeah no, don’t do that. We’re not in high school, you know?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smiled slightly at the scandalized look on your face.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand in the air, “It’s strange that mom said no though. She doesn’t really like him nowadays, and she keeps listing all his….disadvantages whenever I talk about him.”

“Disadvantages?”

“Mm hm. The other day she said it was maybe for the best in the long run, because he’s an FBI agent so considering his paychecks, we would eventually fight about our future children’s tuition fees.”

Nolan thought for a moment, “She does have a point, considering what FBI pays their agents…”

You blinked a couple of times, “Right,” you said, “That’s exactly why I broke up with him. Because who would be paying for our hypothetical future children’s future tuition fees, yeah. Deal breaker, that one.”

“It could be a contributing factor though—“ he started but you heard your mother’s heels approaching and soon enough she walked into the living room and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Darling, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she told you before pecking Nolan on the lips, making him smile, “This whole charity auction, honestly…”

“Do I have to come to that thing?” you looked between them, your brows pulled together in an attempt to make them take pity on you but your mother tilted her head.

“Yes you do.”

“It’s just that…” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “You know, I’m going through a break up—“

“You’ve been going through a break up for more than a month now, you’re not allowed to use that as an excuse.”

“My heart is broken!”

“Good, focus on charity then.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Nolan, “What’s the real reason she’s dragging me to this?”

“Oh no, I’m not getting caught in this crossfire.”

“Mom?”

She cleared her throat and sipped her coffee, “The other day when I visited Nolan at work, he happened to introduce me to this very handsome Chief Marketing Officer who’s handling—“

“Oh no.”

“Keep in mind that we pay him more than what FBI pays his agents.” Nolan stated, laughing up his sleeve as if he found it hilarious and you scrunched up your nose.

“Nolan, I know you were born in the eighteenth century but that’s actually not a problem we have these days.”

“He’s single,” your mother said as if she wasn’t even listening and you threw your head back, letting out a whine, “He loves dogs and squash—“

“Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not sitting at our table,” your mother said, “I fixed another surprise for you at our table, and I figured you’d want to keep your options open.”

“Besides, if your ex boyfriend is moving on…” Nolan trailed off and your mother raised her brows.

“Oh, Spencer has a girlfriend now?”

“No!” you said way too loudly and then cleared your throat, “I mean—I don’t care. But I don’t think so, I would’ve heard it.”

“See? More reason for you to meet other people.”

You pouted, “I hate this so much. I can’t believe I’m being dragged into this nonsense only because you guys are making me, this is seriously bullshit…”

“Y/N, do you want some cookies?” Nolan interrupted your grumbling, “One of my assistants brought them from France the other day.”

You scoffed, “How old do you think I—” you paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders, “Actually yeah, I’d love some cookies right now.”

                                                  ***

Unfortunately, when you left your mother’s house you had overestimated the traffic and how long it would take you to get there so by the time you had pulled over by the road leading into the woods, you could only see one FBI car. You didn’t have to wonder who was in it when your eyes caught the sight of Spencer leaning against it and your heart skipped a beat.

“Fuck…” you murmured to yourself and considered for a short second to drive away until others got there, but it was too late. Spencer turned his head, saw your car and stopped dead on his tracks so you heaved a sigh and pushed open the door to step outside. You looked around before you pulled yourself up to sit on the hood before you fished your cigarette pack out of your purse.

“You’re early.” Spencer said and you raised your glances to look at him for a second before lighting your cigarette.

“So are you,” you put the lighter back into your purse, “Came by yourself?”

“Luke is talking with the police.”

“Lovely,” you exhaled the smoke and he crossed his arms, looking up at the sky for a moment before stealing a look at you.

You had no idea what to say to him. After that one day of truce, it was like you were back to being enemies and ignoring each other. The fact that he might have been ready to date another person made you feel even worse if it was possible, especially after that phone call between you. He had said that he was a mess just like you were, he had said you had taken a part of him when you left him, and—

You didn’t even know what you hoped for. You knew it wouldn’t change anything, and yet the thought of him being with someone else was more than enough to make you feel like you were falling off a cliff.

Maybe it was just the truce talking. Maybe he didn’t mean any of that.

Your phone vibrating in your purse made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked at the caller I.D., then frowned and answered.

“Hey, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“On a Sunday?” Lincoln’s voice reached you, “Who’s the workaholic now?”

“Still you Linc,” you said and Spencer’s head shot up, “What’s up?”

“I just called to let you know that they just moved me to your table.”

You pulled your brows, “I’m sorry, what?”

“At the charity auction. My table was 3, they just e-mailed me to say I’ve been moved to 1.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re the surprise?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Somebody needs to stop my mother.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, “I…That’s great, we’ll sit together then. If you like sulking the whole night, we’ll be just fine.”

“Come on, it could be fun.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, at least you’re not alone.”

“I’ll drink throughout that night, you sure you can keep up?”

“Do you even know who you’re talking to, you amateur?”

“Oh it’s on.” You smiled slightly and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you at our table then. With drinks.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said before you hung up, and put the phone back into your purse before you felt Spencer’s burning gaze on you, so you looked up at him.

“What?” you asked and he scoffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

“Professor.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, his gaze fixed on the woods and you tilted your head.

“Fine.”

He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth, as if trying to decide whether to say anything or not before you could ask again, Luke approached you two, another car pulling over by your car.

“Hey there.” You greeted Luke as you jumped off the hood and he tilted his head.

“Why are you shorter?”

You motioned at your sneakers, “I figured since we’re going into the woods, heels would be a bad idea.”

“Is this the first time I’m seeing you without heels?”

“Probably.”

“Should we get going?”

JJ stole a look at Spencer and you, then turned to Luke, “Actually, do you mind coming with me to the car for a moment? There’s this file I want to get your opinion on.” She nodded at you, “You guys go ahead if you want.”

You pulled your brows together for a second, trying to understand what was happening but then decided you wouldn’t question it and stepped into the woods, a shiver running down your spine.

It looked way too familiar.

You gritted your teeth and started walking, and it didn’t take long for Spencer to catch up with you.

“So I never got to ask you,” you managed to say after almost ten minutes of complete silence, “That…that blood vial in that petal bowl, whose blood was it?”

“Anthony’s.”

“Right,” you murmured as you kept walking, “Was it….was it something my dad did back then?”

“No.” Spencer said curtly and you looked over your shoulder.

“So then what does it—“

“Are you dating other people?” the words left his lips in a hurry as if he didn’t know how to stop them and you stopped dead on your tracks.

“I beg your pardon?”

He opened his mouth for a moment like he was trying to find the right words but then he closed it and shrugged his shoulders.

“Never mind,” he murmured, walking past you and you gawked after him for a while before you rushed after him.

“No, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

Maybe your whole theory about Spencer being a genius therefore not being able to be jealous wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m not— is this about Lincoln?” you held up the phone in your hand before you sped up to catch up with his long strides, “There’s this stupid charity auction bullshit and we’re both attending it, that’s it.”

“Alright,” he murmured, still walking and you let out a breath.

“Spencer!”

“What?” he turned around to look at you, that fire burning in his eyes again, “I said never mind, okay?”

“I’m not dating Lincoln!” you exclaimed “And I— even if I were, at least he’s not someone I met at a nightclub my friends forced me to go, unlike some of us.”

“What does that-” he started but it hit him in a second, “Garcia told you.”

“It came up.”

He raised his brows, “Yeah? How?”

“It just did.” You managed to say even if your cheeks were burning, “So what? You’re going to stand there and ask me that when you’re moving on already?”

“I’m not moving on!” he said as if you had just insulted him, “Besides, you broke up with me remember?”

“Yeah and you wasted no time Spencer, congratulations.” You murmured as you walked past him but as soon as your eyes caught the sight of the huge cabin by the small hill, your breath got caught in your throat and you took a step back, the memory flashing through your mind so fast that the headache hit you out of nowhere.

Your father tugged you by your hand through the woods as you yawned, rubbing at your eyes.

“Are you sleepy honey?”

You nodded, looking up at him, 

“Daddy I thought we were going to come here tomorrow, with mom and Mina.” you said as you hugged the huge teddy bear you had brought with you when your father had woken you up and told you that you would be taking a small trip to the cabin.

“We are,” he said, “We will go back home after our hunt is done here.”

“Yeah but mom says Mina and I can’t be outside the cabin at night,” you murmured, “The lake is too close, remember? We might fall in, she says.”

“She’s right, no leaving the cabin by yourself when it’s dark outside,” he said, “Or else no chocolate for a week, you know the rules.”

“Okay, okay…” you yawned again, and your father knelt down so that you could look him in the eye.

“Petal honey, I want you to pay attention,” he said, “Look around. Let’s say you’re in the woods by yourself and you’re hunting. You know how we hunt, right?”

You took a deep breath, “Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.”

“Very good,” he said, “When you’re hunting in the woods, what’s the first thing you do?”

“Look up at the sky,” you said, “That’s how I know where I am.”

“Good start. How about if your prey is running to get away from you? How do you chase them?”

“People aren’t calm when they’re being hunted,” you repeated what he had told you, “They make noises. I follow that, and wait for them to tire themselves out.”

He nodded, then you both climbed the stairs to the front door of the cabin.

“And what’s the one thing you remember?”

“To stay calm and patient.”

He smiled at you and opened the door to the cabin so that you could see the bloodied person tied to a chair, screaming through the gag.

“Good,” he said, “Let’s go over what we do with the prey, shall we?”

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice cut through the memory, almost grabbing you and pulling you back to the reality and it was only when you realized you weren’t standing anymore, instead you were on the ground on your knees, gasping for breath.

“I can’t—“ you choked out, pressing a hand over your chest “I—I can’t breathe—“

“Yes you can,” he helped you sit and lean your back to the tree trunk, “You just need to focus on me, alright? Can you breathe with me?”

You sniffled, trying to match your breathing with his and he nodded,

“There you go,” he said with a smile, “You’re doing great. Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded your head, still desperate to cling to anything that would protect you from that memory and he entwined his fingers with you.

“Keep your focus on me,” he said as he wiped the teardrop off your cheek with his free hand,  awakening a fire right beneath your cheekbone, “Here’s what we’re going to do, you will inhale when I squeeze your hand, exhale when I stop. Can we do that together?”

You inhaled when you felt his grip tightening around your hand, then exhaled when it became loose again.

“Y/N?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Hm?”

“Why are public proposals so bad?”

A teary laugh escaped from your lips, “Professor…”

“No, I want you to tell me,” he said as you inhaled again when he squeezed your hand, “Why are they so bad?”

“Because they—“ you exhaled, “They’re not private.”

“They could be romantic.”

“But they’re not,” you protested, “They’re not romantic. They’re pretentious.”

“Pretentious?” he squeezed your hand once more and you took another breath.

“If you need an audience for something like that, you’re pretentious yeah.” You said as the nausea slowly retreated and he pushed your hair behind your ear before his knuckles brushed over your neck, it lasted only a moment but it was enough for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he offered you a small smile.

“Anytime.”

“Brings back the memories, huh?” you leaned your head back to the tree trunk and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “Yeah it really does.”

You pressed your lips together, “Spencer, why are you helping me?” you asked him, taking him by surprise, “With….all this. I thought you hated me.”

He swallowed thickly,

“I can’t hate you,” his voice was almost a murmur, “I wish I could. Trust me, I tried.”

“Guys?” you heard Luke’s voice and you turned your head to see them approaching, “What’re you—what happened?”

“We’ll meet you there in a second,” Spencer said, shooting JJ a look and she nodded.

“Okay,” she said, “Come on Luke.”

They walked past you to the cabin and you looked up at the sky for a couple of seconds before willing yourself to focus on him again.

“You remembered something,” he said and you nodded.

“A memory,” you managed to say, “I…Spencer, there are dead bodies in there.”

“I know, we found bones in the backyard—“

“No,” you cut him off, “You don’t understand. There are dead bodies in the cabin.”

He pulled his brows together and you pulled your hand out of his before standing up on shaky legs, still holding onto the tree for support.

“Y/N, we can wait-” he said but you shook your head and made your way to the cabin until you reached the stairs. Every cell in your body was screaming at you to run away, but you managed to force yourself to climb the stone stairs and stopped for a moment at the door as Spencer stepped to stand next to you. Everything looked exactly the same as you had left them all those years ago right before your father was arrested.

A shudder went down your spine, the same as the one you had gotten when you woke up in your apartment after being drugged. Something in here was way too dangerous for you and it wouldn’t rest until you were at its mercy so you had to get away before it could dig its claws under your skin, but-

You had to do this. You could do this.

You had been through much worse than this before.

You had survived your father, you had survived his copycats, you had survived everything thrown your way so far, you could survive this as well.

You rolled your shoulders back and stepped into the huge living room, the memory pushing at your mind but you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus.

“We can leave if you want,” Spencer murmured and you dug your fingernails into your palms hard enough to hurt.

There was a reason why police couldn’t find anything in this goddamn place when they first checked. You had repressed the memory just like you had repressed the rest, and now that you were here…

The memories about the cabin were swirling in your head, each more terrifying than other.

“Luke.”

Luke turned his head, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind stepping aside for a moment?” you asked, “Actually, if no one could—if no one could stand on the rug that’d be ideal. Thanks.”

JJ shot you a look but nodded at the two other agents walking around the living room and you slowly approached the magnetic chess board by the coffee table, holding out your hand over the pieces for a second. Panic roared through you but you gritted your teeth and moved the pawn, then put the bishop where your father taught you to put it way back then.

“It’ll be like a treasure hunt, but you need to keep it a secret,” he had told you, “Pinky swear?”

You turned the queen in hand your for a moment, then put it right next to the bishop and the small basement trapdoor which was impossible to see even if someone was looking for it clicked under the rug. Spencer froze for a moment before he and Luke pulled the rug off the floor and pulled open the hatch but the smell coming from downstairs made you cover your mouth.

“Stay here,” Luke told the agents as he went downstairs and Spencer followed him right before JJ did. You stalled there for a moment, trying to repress the fear pinning you to your spot before you stepped closer to the stairs leading down to the secret basement.

“Miss—“ the agent said but you ignored him and made your way down. JJ and Spencer already had their flashlights on as Luke held his gun, ready to pull the trigger at any unexpected movement.

“You can’t be here.” Spencer told you but you weren’t even mood to snap back at him. You dragged your fingertips on the wall until you found the switch and turned the light on, the smell getting worse and worse.

There were three huge boxes by the wall, all tightly shut and you had a feeling—

No, not a feeling. What you had was a memory and you knew exactly what was in them.

Spencer turned to you, apparently ready to tell you to go upstairs again but as soon as his eyes caught something over your shoulder, he froze, his jaw clenching. You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and faster as Luke stopped dead on his tracks.

“Y/N, go upstairs.” Spencer said, his tone way too controlled until you turned your head, “No wait, don’t look—“

But it was too late. The bloodied message on the wall made you gasp as you took a step back, unable to look away as that familiar dread filled you once more, the simple line causing goosebumps to rise on your skin;

Welcome home Petal.

                                 Chapter 21 

[spenciebabie]

This is a request from @mggbler! Thanks for asking, I loved writing this, I hope you like it!

The blurb was written for this gif.

The Girl Next Door

Spencer and his neighbor have been friends since he moved in. Just friends, so why was he feeling so jealous?

A/N: I got super carried away with this one, I really don’t think I’m capable of writing something under 1000 words. But I was inspired so what are you gonna do

Warnings: smut, nothing too explicit, masturbation (male and female), implied sex, kissing

Words: 1.6k

They’d been friends since the day Spencer moved into the building. She knew the place next door had been on the market for a while and was beyond excited to find out it was another person her own age moving in. Their building was packed with people who’d lived there since the place was built. Not that she hadn’t made friends with them too, it was just nice to have some fresh blood.

She’d brought over a bottle of wine and baked a plate of cookies to welcome him to the building. And his heart instantly swelled with gratitude. They became fast friends, Spencer had never had many of those, and he certainly hadn’t had many outside of work, so he welcomed the connection with open arms.

She was so easy to talk to that it never felt like a burden, or even effort to hang out with her. It always felt simple, and it always felt good.

Until about a year ago. Something shifted and he couldn’t really pinpoint when exactly it happened but I did. Spencer knew she was pretty, she had been from that first day she popped into his doorframe. But Spencer didn’t only care about pretty, he wasn’t the type of person to fall in love with the way someone looked, he fell in love with personality first.

He thinks it might’ve been last November, when he came home from a particularly bad case at 3am and she was outside his door at 3:05. Sleep in her eyes still in her pajamas, when she heard sounds coming from the hall she knew it was him, and something in her knew he needed company. And he realized that he needed her, that he loved her. But that love complicated things.

——

Their apartments are mirror images of each other, which was jarring at first, to walk into a backwards version of your own apartment, but the decorations are all a little different. It was just funny at first but since November it had become a problem.

Because of the layout, their bedrooms backed onto one another, worse still, the headboards of each of their beds were right up against the same paper thin wall.

This hadn’t been a real problem before but since he’d realized his feelings, and since she’d started going on more dates, it was starting to grate on Spencer.

Every time she left for a date he’d have a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t sleep because he’d sit up waiting, listening intently for the sound of her coming in from the date, hoping desperately that she was alone.

And on the occasions that she was he’d feel relief, and then he’d feel horrible for feeling relieved that she’d had a bad time. But on the occasions that she wasn’t alone he’d feel even worse.

He hated the way he could hear her gentle moans, the way she’d cry out a muffled name as her headboard rocked against their shared wall. He loved the noises she made, more than anything, but he hated the noises that came from the other person in there with her. The person that was making her feel that way.

Sometimes he’d get lucky and it would be over quickly. Other times he’d get unlucky and he’d wake up to the same perfect moans the following morning.

Most of the time if he heard it starting he’d just get up and sleep on the couch.

Those paper thin walls could be a blessing at other times. On the occasions that he knew she didn’t have a date, that she was alone in her room. And he’d hear those same beautiful, filthy sounds. Sometimes he could hear the gentle hum of her vibrator, other times he wouldn’t, but the outcome would be the same. She’d moan and cry and if he was lucky, and she was particularly loud, he could sometimes hear her heavy panting.

On those occasions he’d let his own hand drift under the covers and into his boxers. He’d touch himself, stroking along his hard length while he listened. Screwing his eyes shut so that he could picture what might be happening on the other side of the wall, what was she wearing, or not wearing, what position was she lying in, how many fingers was she using, or did she have other toys. And more than anything, he wondered what she was picturing herself.

But when that happened he’d feel terrible almost immediately afterwards. It felt like an invasion of privacy but he really couldn’t help himself any more.

— —

When he arrives home that evening he’s barely got time to leave his satchel down before there’s a knock at his door. He knows who it is, it couldn’t be anyone else.

When he opens it she’s not dressed like she usually is. She’s in a little red dress. The kind with the tiny little straps that held it up, and the tie that wraps it snug around her waist. It cuts off at the mid thigh and he has to force himself to stop looking.

That’s when his eyes land on the bottle of wine in her hand and for a second he feels excited. She was coming over here dressed like that to see him!

“Have you got an corkscrew?” is the first thing she says, “I can’t find mine?”

He nods and steps aside to let her in, while he goes to rummage in the kitchen for his opener. She follows him to the kitchen and leans herself against the countertop.

When he finds it he hands it to her and she pops open the cork.

“Thanks Spence, you’re a lifesaver” she hands it back to him, and he roots through the cupboard for some glasses.

“You want a glass?” She asks, pouring her own and he nods, so she fills one up for him too.

Before he can ask what the occasion is she volunteers the information herself.

“I’ve got a date in like 20 minutes and I’m too nervous, I thought I’d have a drink to calm down but then I couldn’t find my corkscrew and I just made myself more nervous looking for it” she rushes out with a light laugh.

“Oh, cool” he says, and he tries desperately to keep his emotions under control but his heart felt like it was physically aching.

“I should actually head back in there and get ready, I gotta leave soon. You can keep the rest of that bottle, I’ll return the glass later!” She calls out as she wanders back towards his door. “Bye Spence”

“Good luck” he calls down the hall after her, and he wishes he meant it.

— —

Two hours go by and he’s mentally preparing himself for a night spent on the couch when there’s a light knock at his door.

It’s Y/N, and she looks as perfect as she did earlier, and something in him notices that her lipstick is still completely intact. She’s holding his wine glass from earlier and she hands it out to him.

“Here, thanks, but it didn’t do me much good” she frowns a little, and he yet again feels awful that it brings him so much relief.

“Do you wanna come in?” He asks, and he knows he shouldn’t.

“Yeah okay, another glass might help me now” she chuckles and she takes the wine glass back from him.

They sit next to each other on the couch and finish off the bottle together. She always feels so at ease in Spencer’s apartment. Maybe it’s because it was just like her own. But really she knew it was because he lived there, he just made her feel so comfortable, so happy, so loved.

And she also knew that’s why none of her dates had ever gotten a second, and why her date this evening had gone so badly.

None of them made her feel the way that Spencer did. None of them looked at her the way his eyes were looking at her now. And she knew she wouldn’t feel anything close to the love she felt for Spencer for anyone else.

“Spence?” She asks, placing her glass back on the coffee table, “do you ever think about us?”

“Us?” He asks, unsure

“Yeah” she pauses and takes in a deep breath, “Like how we get on so well, and how long we’ve known each other?”

“I mean— I guess so? Why?” He doesn’t want to presume anything about the direction of her train of thought but his heart is absolutely pounding.

“Well, I think what I’m getting at is, why haven’t you done this yet?”

“Done wh—” before he can finish the question her lips are on his. Soft and sweet, and they they taste like red wine, and it’s more perfect than he ever could’ve imagined.

When she pulls back she’s terrified that she’s misread the situation and ruined their friendship forever.

But he’s just staring at her with nothing but pure adoration.

“I didn’t know— I didn’t think— you like me?” He asks, his voice is so soft and sweet.

“I love you Spence” she says it with such conviction and his heart almost bursts in his chest.

“I love you too” he rushes out and then his mouth is on hers again.

This time it’s more feverish, hungry and excited to make up for lost time.

She leans over closer to him and he pulls her tighter against him, placing his hand on the underside of her bare thigh. He can’t believe this is really happening.

Moving against him, her hands splayed out against his chest she pulls back for a moment and looks down at him with half lidded eyes.

“Bedroom?”

[pixy-stix-art]

Can I have hugs and maybe noms I'm really touch starved- anxious anon

Same anon. I almost cried the other day because my cat cuddled with me. Anyway….here’s a unedited really soft touch starved fic for ya. I’m surprised I haven’t written something like this before.

Finally safe

(Warnings: safe vore, talk of past trauma)

———————————————————————

Ranboo sighed as he huddled up in his bed in the walls. The weather was getting cold again. And even with all the extra blankets he had now, it was still too cold. He shivered wrapping the blankets around himself.

Ranboo wanted to be warm. And he knew he could ask Tubbo for help. But he already asked for so much, he didn’t want to be a burden. He had always been a burden to others. The other borrowers he had been raised with had made that clear. He was born differently, with half black and half white hair. Along with odd black spots on his skin. He was different and that was bad.

He frowned remembering all the harsh words and nights spent alone as a kid. After his parents had their accident, he was left to fend for himself. Never getting the hugs or affection he wanted so bad. He had gone this long without any, he didn’t need them. Once he was claimed to be old enough he was kicked out of the colony. He found a good home, but was then found by a cat. He moved again and found Tubbo’s home.

He was injured from his run in with the cat and passed out in the middle of Tubbo’s floor. He was lucky Tubbo didn’t step on him. He was definitely surprised to wake up, let alone wake up to a young goat hybrid hovering over him looking worried. He was scared but soon learned to trust Tubbo. Even after Tubbo scared him really bad that one time Tubbo’s dad almost found him….. that had definitely not been fun.

Ranboo did his best to be well behaved and and always laugh and joke around with Tubbo. He didn’t want him to regret helping him if he realized how broken Ranboo was.

Ranboo gave up trying to get warm sitting in his bed. He wrapped a blanket around himself and walked down the chilly, dark and dusty path to Tubbo’s room. If anything he could distract himself from the cold by talking to Tubbo.

He stumbled out of the small exit he had carved out underneath the bed in Tubbo’s room. He could already feel it was warmer. He walked out from underneath the bed looking for Tubbo.

“Tubbo?” He called out to the hybrid.

Tubbo’s was working on home work at his desk when he heard his name be called. He smiled recognizing the voice. Ranboo. He turned around to look down at the ground to his his little friend wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey, what’s up?” He smiled happily. He wanted to scoop up the borrower, but ranboo had said he doesn’t like being touched. But Tubbo thought otherwise with how Ranboo leaned into him anytime he did pick up the borrower.

“Not a lot.” Ranboo said walking closer.

“I’m just doing homework if you want to sit on the desk while I work?” He asked.

“Yeah. That works.” Ranboo nodded.

“Want a ride?” Tubbo hesitantly offered his hand to Ranboo.

Ranboo was going to say no but, he could feel the warmth comes off his hand. Maybe he could get a ride just this once. “Ok.” He nodded stepping onto Tubbo’s hand.

Tubbo was pleasantly surprised when ranboo stepped into his hand. He couldn’t help but notice how chilly Ranboo was though. He picked up and set back in this chair. He didn’t want to set down Ranboo with how cold he was.

“Umm… Tubbo?” Ranboo asked when he wasn’t set down like he thought he would be.

“Why are you so cold?” Tubbo asked getting to the point.

“W-what?” Ranboo stuttered. He shook his head. “No, I’m not cold.” He tried to hide his shivers.

“I can feel how cold you are. And you’re shivering….” Tubbo frowned.

“I- I guess it’s a little chilly…” Ranboo shrugged trying to play it off. “You don’t have to worry about me though.” He smiled.

“But I am worried, why wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Tubbo questioned.

“Because…..” Ranboo trailed off. They where friends why shouldn’t Tubbo worry? Is that what friends where supposed to do?

Tubbo frowned softly. “You ok boss man?” He asked gently bringing him closer to be held.

“I- I don’t know…. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I probably already take up to much for your time…”

“Take up my time?” Tubbo shook his head. “No, that’s-” he shook his head. Is that really how Ranboo feels? “You could never take up my time Boo, I love spending time with you.”

Ranboo paused looking up at Tubbo. “Really? I’m annoying and useless though…” He mumbled.

“What?! Who told you that?” Tubbo curled up his fingers at the idea of someone saying such hurtful and untrue things to his friend.

“My colony, the other borrowers I lived with. I was different and I couldn’t borrow the right way…. So I was useless.” He said like it was a fact.

“You are not useless Ranboo….” He said sadly gently using a finger to pet Ranboo’s head. “And whatever else those people said to you, it isn’t true.”

Ranboo crumbled as Tubbo put a finger on his head. The soft pressure and warmth made him melt. He looked down at his hands realizing Tubbo really and truly cared about him. That fact made him start sobbing. But for once, it was happy tears.

Tubbo panicked as Ranboo began to cry. Had he hurt him?! “Boo?” He softly asked holding him closer to his face. He jumped a little as Ranboo latched onto his face giving him a hug. He gladly cupped his hands over his back hugging him back. He used his thumb to rub Ranboo’s back as he sobbed.

“It’s ok, I got you now. Your ok.” He mumbled softly trying to comfort his smaller friend.

Ranboo hugged Tubbo tight. He had needed this so bad. A hug, someone to talk to, and a real friend. He slowly calmed down. He pulled away from Tubbo. “S-sorry…” He mumbled.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Tubbo said.

“Oh….” Ranboo blinked looking at Tubbo. He almost said sorry again.

“It’s ok.” He smiled still holding Ranboo close.

Ranboo sighed leaning back in Tubbo hand. He let himself curl up enjoying the warmth.

“You are still cold though.” He curled his fingers around Ranboo.

“Better then before.” He replied.

“I still need to get you warmer Boo.” He shook his head. He hummed thinking of a easy way to keep him warm.

Ranboo didn’t want to be alone right now. And he just wanted comfort and warmth from Tubbo. He frowned getting a idea. Would Tubbo even be ok with that?

“You got a idea?” Tubbo asked seeing the look on Ranboo’s face.

“Kinda? I don’t know if it’s a good one though.” He shrugged.

“Well, what is it?” Tubbo asked.

“Um… you remember how you hide me from your dad that one time?” He said hoping Tubbo would catch on.

Tubbo froze realizing what Ranboo was suggesting. “Are you sure about that? You where so scared before.”

“I was scared because you just ate me. But now I know it’s safe and I trust you.” He smiled softly.

“Aw, you trust me that much?” Tubbo grinned. He was glad Ranboo wasn’t scared of the idea anymore.

“I do.” He giggled. “Plus it’s warm and I’ll be able to rest while you work.”

“True…” Tubbo nodded. “So you really want to do this?”

“Yeah I do.” He said making his decision.

“Ok, just tell me if you want out at any point.” Tubbo said before carefully placing Ranboo in his mouth closing his teeth behind him with a click.

Being gentle placed in was definitely better then how he was shoved in before. He smiled feeling the warmth from Tubbo. He was so focused on the warmth he didn’t panic like he thought he would.

Tubbo gently licked over Ranboo feeling just how cold the little borrower had been. It was like sucking on a ice cube. He slowly tilted his head back and swallowed Ranboo.

Ranboo froze as gravity shifted and he slipped back into Tubbo’s throat. He struggled a little but forced himself to be still not wanting to hurt Tubbo. He soon slipped into Tubbo’s stomach. He went completely limp at the feeling. He was surrounded by soft muscle gently hugging him as he leaned back. It was a amazing feeling.

Tubbo sighed as he felt Ranboo slip into his stomach. He pressed a hand to where he was. “You ok?” He asked making sure Ranboo was alright.

“Yeah….I’m ok.” He replied. He was getting sleepy from being so cozy. He hadn’t been able to really feel what it was like in here before, he had passed out from his panic. But now he was calm and finally warm.

“Ok, just making sure. I’m going to keep working. Let me know when you want out.” He really hoped Ranboo would want to stay for a while. He liked having him so close and safe.

“Mmhmm…” He hummed snuggling against Tubbo more. He didn’t have to worry about anything in here. He could just sleep and not wake up worrying about bugs or the cold. He was safe. With that thought he finally was able to sleep.

Tubbo continued to do his homework and smiled softly feeling Ranboo get comfortable. His small weight got heavier as he fell asleep tucked away deep inside where he could keep his friend safe. Tubbo hoped they would do this more now.

[1800-omi]

death’s bride.

characters: sukuna x f! reader

warnings/genre: angst, yn pov, abuse, some intrusive thoughts (?), choking, just sukuna being a toxic asshole

wc: 1.6k

prompt: “will you be mine?” He then pressed the blade deeper into my throat and asked, “will you be death’s bride?” and i stared back into his eyes and whispered, “yes.” (except i made some lil edits)

notes: bitches say theyre not sluts until sukuna comes up, i’m bitches

Being the eldest daughter, I always knew my responsibilities; Look after the younger kids, help mother with the chores, cook, et cetera. My family was never as privileged financially as other families in our town but we cared for each other, or at least that’s what I thought.

A couple of nights ago I overheard my parents talking about my father being in some sort of debt with someone really powerful, I don’t remember much from that night, what I do remember though is the fear in my father’s voice when he talked about this person. The next thing I knew, my mother was explaining to me how they’re going to have me get married to this man in order to pay my father’s debt. I am not sure how I felt about this at the time, I don’t think it matters anymore, I’m doing this for my family.

Right now, I’m alone in a carriage on the way to my husband’s home. I didn’t get to exchange a word with the coachman of the carriage and the windows are covered by curtains from the outside, I have no idea where this place is. This is definitely not how I had imagined my marriage would play out, but I guess it’s too late to lose all hope– maybe this man who I’m now going to call my husband is kind, generous, and honest. Maybe he will truly love me. My childhood dreams of finding real love are not shattered yet. I close my eyes thinking about my now-husband, slowly drifting away in a comfortable sleep.

I wake up to the coachman gently shaking my shoulder, his face is hidden under a mask. Once he sees I have awakened he quickly takes his hand off me as if he wasn’t supposed to be touching me in the first place.

“We have arrived.” He announces before getting off the carriage. “This will now be your new home.”

I slowly get out of the carriage and look at the huge mansion in front of me. This place radiates such a dark aura, and the mist of the early morning doesn’t give make it better.

I turn to the coachman, “Thank you.” He doesn’t reply, at first I’m not sure whether he heard me or not but I do not repeat myself. Instead, I walk towards the entrance where 2 maids seem to be waiting for me. For some reason, these maids are also wearing the same type of masks the coachman was wearing.

Upon walking inside my new home, I can’t help but look around at every detail of the place – from the marble floor to the murals on the ceiling. This place is gorgeous and so different from what I’m used to. Eventually, I’m lead to a huge bedroom to which the maids tell me is mine.

“Aren’t me and my husband going to be sleeping in the same room?” I ask only to receive what I assume to be a stare and no answer. After a few seconds of silence, they continue to tell me that my husband has invited me for dinner tonight and that the clothes I’m expected to wear are in the closet and they exit. I’m being invited to dinner in my own house, it’s weird to think about. Does this mean I won’t be having dinner with him every day? I have so many questions but no one willing to answer them. All I have left to do now is wait for dinner time to come into this room, which I was advised earlier not to exit.

I spend my day reading some of the books that were already on the shelves of my room and looking outside from the long and thin windows. I wonder what’s the reason for the shape of the windows, it’s almost as if they were made so that people could escape from them... No, that can’t be it. No one would feel the need to escape from here. The windows’ shape was probably a stylistic choice. Maybe my husband is a stylish person?

I look at the huge clock by the wall, I should start getting ready, it’s almost time. I open the closet and find a beautiful red dress in it, I take off my other clothes and carefully put it on. I don’t think I’ve ever worn clothes this soft, this dress must have been expensive. I never thought I would one day be looking at myself in the mirror and be wearing such luxurious clothes. I open the jewelry box on the shelf and pick out a necklace and put it on. Yes, this is it, he’ll love it. Now all that’s left to do is sit and wait.

Ultimately, one of the maids comes by to let me know they’ll be taking me to the dinner. My heart is beating quickly and I have a weird feeling in my stomach, I’m feeling a mix of stress and excitement. I’m finally going to meet the one I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

I get led into another very big room, this one has a big table in the middle of it along with many chairs. The maids tell me where to sit and instruct me on what I should do once their master enters the room.

While waiting, my stress can’t help but grow, I lightly tap my finger against the table until I hear the grand doors open. I immediately turn my gaze towards them to see a tall man in a light-colored kimono with a black edge. The kimono wasn’t the only thing standing out, this man also has some unique markings on his forehead, cheeks, and nose, I wonder if he has them around his body too. I quickly remember what the maids have told me and I bow to him. He doesn’t say a word and neither do I since I’ve been told not to speak unless spoken to. I hear his footsteps while I’m still bowing, is he approaching me? My heart speeds up as he puts his hand under my chin and lifts it, making me look at him. He looks down at me with his red eyes, meanwhile, I notice he’s got some markings on his wrists as well.

“Hm,” he finally speaks up, “you’re rather pretty, just like I’ve been told.” His voice is deep and husky, and quite scary if you ask me. “What is your name?” He asks.

“YN.”

“Hm, pretty name as well. Great, I won’t have to change it then.” Change it? If he didn’t like my name he would’ve just changed it?

His hand slowly went from holding my chin to being wrapped around my throat, making me gasp.

He then stared straight at my eyes, as he said, “will you be mine, YN?” He then tightened the grip around my throat and asked, “will you be death’s bride?” and I stared back into his devilish eyes and whispered, “yes.”

“Good.” He whispered back and smirked, holding my throat for a few more moments. Eventually, he lets go of my throat, in response to which I take deep breaths and continue to gasp for air. Is this what I’ll be going through every day? He ignores my struggling and takes a seat before starting to eat.

“Quit exaggerating, it wasn’t that bad.” He ordered and I eventually calmed down, before sitting back in my place. I look at the food in front of me and slowly start eating, choosing to ignore what just happened. Maybe there is some good in the man I still haven’t seen.

“Did anyone say you could start eating?” He asked, making me freeze. He lets out a sigh before continuing, “I’ll give you a pass since it’s your first time. But I don’t want to see you making the same mistakes anymore or there will be consequences.”

I look at him in the eyes, “What consequences, my lord?” It probably wasn’t a good idea to ask him that, it probably isn’t a good idea to talk to him at all.

He grins at me before letting out a laugh, “You’ll join the other wives.”

Chills are sent down my spine by his response. Other? There are others? Or at least there were. Just how many other women did this man abuse? Most importantly what happened to them? All I am left to do is wonder since I doubt anyone will be willing to tell me about them. How did I end up here?

“Oh, you can leave now.” He speaks up again. I look at him, confused. “I have nothing else to say to you, you can leave.” He explains. He won’t even let me finish my dinner, but a part of me is thankful I don’t have to spend another minute in his presence. I get up and take a bow again before leaving the dining room. I ignore the maids and swiftly walk to my room by myself. After closing the door behind me I lay on the bed as tears start rolling down my cheeks. I can’t believe this is my life now, if he was capable of doing that the first time I met him, what will he be doing to be in the future? I am never going to be enough for this man. If his other wives weren't enough, nor am I. This can’t be happening! What have I done to deserve this? Do I have to live the rest of my life scared of this man? This man I’m now supposed to call my husband? I sob lightly and try to wipe my tears. I close my eyes trying to fall asleep, part of me hoping I won’t wake up again. The sleep I fall into that night was so different from the one I had back in the carriage. In that one, I dreamt of meeting someone with whom I’ll be happy, someone who’ll truly love me, in this sleep I see nothing but nightmares.

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated <3

[fa-headhoncho]

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 1871 (ahaha, yea)

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers might be triggering??? idk

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to end my 141 part Wattpad Sebastian Stan imagine book and post on Tumblr instead :’), a happy day. Also, I’M SORRY THAT I LIKE SLOW BURN SERIES OK? Schedule for this series is every Thursday. ALSO IF YOU HAVE TITLE IDEAS FOR THIS SERIES, LMK! PLEASE

Masterlist

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

=====

The sound of your heels echoed throughout the dimly lit room as you make your way through the exhibit. The walls take you back in time, reading how Captain America came to be and all his past accomplishments. They even updated from the last time you were here, documenting the events on the Blip.

You didn’t even know where you were going, absently letting your emotions and feet lead to where it felt you needed to be.

“For a former spy, you’re not really good at sneaking up on someone.” Rhodes’ voice greets you once you open up the curtain to a different area. A small smile sneaks its way across your face seeing the two men in front of you.

“Bit out of practice.” You spit back, walking towards them. “It’s nice to see you again, Rhodie.” You open your arms out to him and he gladly takes the hug. “Hopefully life’s been treatin’ you well.”

“For the most part,” He chuckles out while pulling away from the embrace. You move on to the other man, him happily wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrap yours around his shoulders.

Sam lets out a breath into the crook of your neck before pulling back. “You doing okay?” You ask, looking at his face for any sign of emotion. He nods but there was something in his eye that told otherwise.

You open your mouth to push him for the real answer but Rhodes cuts you off, “Well, I have to get going. It was good seeing you, (Y/L/N), hopefully, we work together soon. Remember what I said, Sam.” With that, he leaves the room to leave you and Sam alone.

The room fills with silence as the two of you turn to the iconic suit and shield in front of you. You try to watch Sam from the corner of your eye but he just stands with his back straight and his eyes forward.

“You know, I’m sure Steve would understand.” You decide to say, clasping your hands in front of you. “I didn’t become as close as you did, but from my time with him during the Blip, he tried his best to help everyone. He had a lot of responsibilities and issues of his own along with having a whole country looking up to him... 

“It was a lot… he opened to me about it one night before… you know.” You admit which makes him finally look at you. “He told me what he was going to do and all I could do is support him… I asked him what he was going to do with the mantle and he said give it to you.” Turning your head, you make eye contact with him. “I asked him if he was sure.”

He lets out a snort at that, shaking his head at you. “Really gotta do me like that?” He wipes his hand across his face then stuffs his hand in his pockets as he turns to face you. “I thought we were having a nice bonding moment and then you had to drop me like that?”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips at his whining. “I’m being serious, Sam, stop.” You hit him on the shoulder. “He said there was no doubt in his mind that you do what needed to be done with the shield. He trusted you and your judgment, Falcon.” You emphasize his hero name which he just rolls his eyes at you.

“Yea, I’m sure he did.” He smiles and then changes the subject, “How’s parole treatin’ ya, still got the collar on?” He gestures to your ankle causing you to lift your dress pant leg, flashing the electric bracelet around your ankle. He lets out a hearty chuckle at it. “Still can’t believe that they have you on a leash.”

“Price you gotta pay for freedom.” You shrug and drop the cloth. There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, both of you taking a glance back at the exhibit and the shield.

“Have you talked with Bucky recently?”

“No, I was going to ask you.” Your heart sinks at the realization. “We’ve been texting a bit but I haven’t seen him since I spent the weekend with him a couple of weeks ago.” You shyly admit and look down at your feet.

“Weekend, huh?”

“Shut it, Sam.” You knock your foot against his. “We didn’t do anything, he doesn’t like me like that. Plus, he wouldn’t even let me spend the night. I had to go to a hotel, he sleeps on the floor, Sam! I’m worried about him.” It took weeks for you to convince him to let you come over and you finally knew why when you step into his apartment. It made your heart sink, it looked like if a Hydra cell got a remodel. “He has two chairs and a tv.”

“Living modestly I see.” He snorts out, covering up whatever he was actually thinking. It’s now your turn to roll your eyes at him, frustrated that he isn’t willing to talk about this. “Hey, he’s still figuring stuff out, okay? He just got all his memories back and he’s still working on living with his past. You should know better than I do to give him time.” His tone is soft as he lightly scolds you. You hang your head at his words, knowing he’s right.

It took some time for you to come to terms with your past when you turned yourself in after Hydra and SHIELD fell. You took accountability for your actions during your years at Hydra and spent a few years in jail before Steve took action to help you get on parole. That didn’t mean you weren’t fully recovered.

“When are you joining me on the field, anyway?” Sam changes the topic noticing how you went silent and your eyes looked past him. “I could use you on some of my recon missions.” 

A large smile forms on your face at the mention of your parole. “A couple more check-ins and I’m good, I think.” You excitedly inform, “They actually want to talk to me about something, and then it’s the last three months. Saving the world made my good behavior skyrocket.”

“I’m sure it did.” He smiles, “Well, let me know what happens. I’m heading down to Louisiana soon and my sisters want to meet you. She heard about your work with the soup kitchens in New York and she wanted some insight.”

“Really? Give her my number, you know I’d be happy to talk with her. I’ve been thinking about trying to get my officer to convince the big guys to expand my tracking radar so I reach out more.” You start to ramble about the ideas you’ve been having for more community service actions. During the blip, Steve got you into volunteer work and it sparked something inside of you. He said it might give you a new purpose and he couldn’t have been more right.

The two of you spend the rest of the day together, catching up on everything that’s been going on. You didn’t realize how much you missed his snarky comments and banter until he smothered you in it, “making up for lost time”, he said. He continues the bullying by texting back and forth for the next few days.

It was nice to have a friend after everything that happened over the last few years. Steve and Nat were gone so the friendships you built up during the blip were just a memory now. Yea, Bucky and you were friends but it was a bit more complicated than that.

It’s a few weeks after that and they’ve already named some prick the new Captain America. You were frustrated at Sam but you realized that he couldn’t have known that this was going to happen. Especially since when you reached out to him and he was more furious than you were. Bucky was a whole other story. When the press conference aired, he immediately called you and went off about Sam. You couldn’t offer answers so you just told him to talk to him about it. This didn’t involve you.

Now, you were sat at some random government office in DC. You were beyond nervous, leg bouncing and fingers tapping. Kevin, your sweet parole officer, had called you in for an emergency meeting. He didn’t mention anything about the content of it but he assured you not to worry. It didn’t help, though, your mind was scrambling trying to think of anything you could’ve done to break your parole or anywhere you could’ve gone that went outside your tracking radar.

“(Y/L/N)?” The familiar voice echoes through the lobby makes your head snap up. Kevin, your knight in a cashmere sweater, stands there with his hands in his pants pockets. He nods his head, gesturing for you to follow him.

He leads you down a long hallway, stopping at the end of it and holding the door open for you. You send him a grateful smile before entering the office. It was very different from his usual office. The tall windows lined the wall from floor to ceiling, making the already large room feel even more spacious. It was a bit unsettling compared to his close-knit office space located in an old house on the outskirts of DC.

Kevin moves you two to the large conference table on the other side of the room, having you sit before he does. He takes the chair at the head of the table, sighing as he opens the folder and takes a few papers out.

“Sign these.” He slides them over to you but you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re being released.” He announces, leaning back in his chair with a tight-lipped smile on his face. Your jaw drops and your heart picks up but you can’t help but question it. You quickly compose yourself and look down at the papers.

“Isn’t it a bit too early?” You ask while briefly scanning the papers. “I still have two months left, not that I’m not grateful but where is this coming from?” This was happening too suddenly, Kevin was good with warning you about the activities that go on behind the scenes of your parole and he didn’t even mention the thought of an early release.

The brunette man lets out a sigh, running his hair through his long hair. He then leans his elbows on the table with his head propped up on his palms, he opens his mouth to answer but is cut off by the office door opening.

The new Captain America and his sidekick come waltzing in, a few of his goons following as well. He didn’t need the uniform or shield for you to recognize him since his face has been plastered on every channel since they came forward with him. He’s all everyone could talk about.

“He released you.” You barely hear Kevin as your mind goes into spirals. What the hell did this guy want? Why is he even here? What the hell did he want with you?