#Which means I can maybe write a chapter of couple during my break

[ididloveyou]

Hello! Tumblr suggested me your blog and I had to check if you're my big batfam fic supplier from ao3 and you are! How's life?

Oh anon I am busy. So so busy. But thank you for asking <3

[ganjas-shit]

Oh, You’re Breaking My Heart

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MINORS DNI! Fingering, squirting, profanities, mentions of death, eating out, handjob, inexperienced reader. Fluff, heart to heart.

Authors note: so sorry for the delay! I’ve been so caught up in school work… but beware there’s lots of smut involved in this so YEAAAAAAH… enjoy!!!

Chapter 4: Hope.

☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚

You couldn't stop thinking about that day, that feeling, and Billy Hargrove. These thoughts were on a constant loop in your mind, becoming all-consuming. They emerged while in the shower, in bed, and even during conversations with Steve. The characters in your novel even began to borrow his face. Was this an obsession? Had you gone mad?

You haven't seen him since that day. Now, his moans, groans, the taste of his lips, and that earth-shattering climax are overwhelming your thoughts in class, with him just two seats away.

The tension was evident.

He continually stole glances at you, causing an insatiable desire to stir between your thighs. You craved more and your mind wouldn't rest until you had it.

The bell rang, and everyone rushed out of class, including you, hastily packing your things in hopes of catching him. But you lost him in the sea of students. Huffing in frustration, you headed towards your locker. Before you could even process it, you were being pulled into the janitor’s closet. Panic overtook you until you saw who it was.

“Jesus Christ, Billy, you scared me!” you whisper-yelled, smacking his chest.

He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you closer to his chest. “I’ve missed you, sweet thing,” he murmured before smashing his lips into yours.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he said through the fervent kiss. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You’re so glad the feeling is mutual.

“Me either,” you breathed into his mouth. The two of you continued for a few minutes, losing yourselves in the kiss. The second bell rang, signaling that you were now late to sixth period.

His hands started to roam your body, squeezing your breasts and then your ass. The touch ignited a fire within you, and you let out a couple of moans, becoming even more hot and bothered than before.

The desire was evident. It felt as if you needed to breathe each other in, or you’d both die.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart, or someone will hear us,” he whispered between the clashing of tongues.

Your heart started to beat in your chest, he’s right being caught means consequences and you’ve worked so hard to fix your record. Being friends with Tommy and Carol did a number on your school record. Suspensions, write-ups, and multiple detentions. Being caught was something you couldn’t afford.

“You’re right, I have to get to class” you said taking a deep breath trying to calm the pleasure that surged through your body.

It was addicting, he was addicting.

He kept kissing your neck, then licked a stripe from it to your ear, swirling your earlobe with his tongue causing you to shudder under his touch.

Maybe the consequences would be worth it?

“You’re already late honey, let me at least make it up to you,” he whispered in your ear.

“How’re you going to make it up to me?”

Billy swiftly turned you around so your backside was pressed to his chest, “Can I show you?” He whispered in your ear again.

Fuck it.

You closed your eyes and nodded yes and he unbuttoned your jeans sliding them just above your knees and then he shoved his hand in your underwear and touched you where you longed for him the most.

You were soaking for him, aching for him, for his touch, for his presence. He was intoxicating.

You started to moan loudly which then prompted him to use his free hand to cover your mouth. He gathered the slick from your entrance and used it to rub slow circles in your clit. “You’re soaking my fingers baby,” he said in your ear and you don’t know why but the warmth of his breath on your ear made you whimper.

“I’m gonna put my fingers in baby, it might sting a bit so let me know if I need to stop,” your heart rate started to pick up, you were nervous but the pleasure you felt overpowered it.

His fingers poked your entrance and you tightened your grip on his wrist letting, his fingers were thick, really thick.

“Ngh it hurts Billy,” you said removing his hand from your mouth, “They’re almost in honey but I can stop if you want?” You really didn’t want to stop so your nodded your head at him to keep going and he did. His fingers started to slip further and further in your tight sopping hole.

The pressure felt good, unlike anything you’ve felt before and you moaned when he pumped out then pushed back in.

“Youre doing so good,” he praised. He started to pick up his pace, everything was sloppy wet down there which made everything much more erotic. “Billy I can’t stay quiet, ah, it feels too good,” you moaned, he quickly put a hand over your mouth and pumped faster, your knees started to buck as the pleasure consumed you.

“Shes taking my fingers well, do you hear how wet you are hmm? Is this all because of me?” He groaned in your ear, he was right it was all because of him, but you couldn’t vocalize that at the moment, all you could do was moan into his hand blissed out from pleasure.

The noises of your pussy were embarrassing, the squelching, your muffled moans, the hot of Billy’s breath in your ear was too much everything was too much.

It was becoming hard to stand with your knees almost giving out and the overwhelming sensation of you needing to pee hit you making you run away from his fingers.

You snatched his hand off your mouth. “Billy, I feel like I-I need to pee,” you cried breathlessly, trying to wiggle away from him. Confusion swept over you as he started to go faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly, and your moans grew louder and louder. “Let go, just let go, baby, it’s okay,” he groaned once again in your ear.

Your eyes started to roll back and you felt like jello.

You let out the most pornographic moan out of your mouth and your first orgasm couldn’t compare to this one. No, not at all, your mind went blank, and your ears started to ring and your body convulsed Billy hunched over preventing you from collapsing as you came undone.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he chuckled, feeling like he was about to explode in his jeans.

God, he was so done for. You were it for him. There was nobody else he wanted in the world but you. As you squirted all over his fingers, all over yourself, he realized this was something he’d never experienced before. Sure, he’d made women feel good; it was his expertise. But with you, there was more to it. You actually felt something for him other than just wanting a quick fuck. There were feelings involved. Longing.

You were no longer on this planet; you were somewhere else entirely. When you opened your eyes, you were brought back to reality, out of breath. But the chuckle that came out of Billy’s mouth snapped you out of it.

“You’re gonna be really, really late to 6th period now,” you furrowed your eyes in confusion until you felt the wetness dripping down your legs—the wetness that soaked your underwear and seeped into the denim of Billy’s jeans.

“Oh my gosh…” you paused, looking at how soaked everything was. “Oh my fucking gosh! Billy, how the fuck am I supposed to clean this up?!” Your panic was evident, and it only made Billy laugh even more.

“What even was that?! Did you put some shit on your fingers to make me pee or something?” you asked, your eyes bulging out of your head.

God, you are so it for him, he thought, feeling both overwhelmed and amused by the situation.

“Y/n, baby, does this look like pee to you? Does it smell like pee?” No, it most certainly did not, you thought, but if it wasn’t pee, then what was it? “You squirted, I made you squirt,” he said proudly, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“Squirt?” You questioned, geez you were in desperate need of girl time with Nance and Rob.

“Yes, my fingers hit a spot in you that caused you to do that, your g-spot,” he explained.

You still didn’t know what you were going to do and him? He couldn’t go to class like that.

“And some shit on my fingers? To make you squirt?” He scoffed. “Baby, my fingers are the shit,” he said smugly, still infuriating, still such an infuriating bastard.

You rolled your eyes and used your pants to wipe the floor of your juices. When you tried to grab Billy’s hand to wipe his, he snatched it away from you.

“Aht aht” Billy tsked bringing up his fingers to his mouth to lick the juices off of them, he closed his eyes and savored your taste sucking on each finger, your stomach did somersaults.

“Mmm so sweet,” he groaned. “Wanna taste?” He asked.

“S’nothing left on your fingers,” you squeaked. He then brought you closer to him, like he did earlier, looking deep into your eyes, and reached his hand down to gather what was left of your taste from you. You hissed, still feeling extremely sensitive.

He then brought his fingers to your mouth prompting you to suck on his fingers and you obliged happily.

Billy hissed as you sucked his digits. He looked as if he was in pain.

“S’wrong?” You asked innocently, doe eyes starting into his seductive blue ones. “You okay?”

“Im about to explode sweetheart,” he chuckled motioning down to his pants, you looked into his eyes before reaching a hand to feel him.

He hissed and you gasped.

“It’s really hard,” you whispered, testing the waters.

“S’your fault” he croaked.

You started to palm him through his jeans, it relieved some pressure, but not enough. You were still naked from the waist down surprisingly not uncomfortable.

Suddenly, a humming whistle was coming from outside the door. It didn’t sound close, but it was getting closer.

Your eyes went wide. It sounded like the janitor was approaching.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, rushing to put on your panties but Billy snatched them from you before you can out them on and stuffed them in the back of his pockets.

“For safekeeping” he shrugged, you rolled your eyes. He was completely unfazed by the situation. Your heart was leaping out your chest right now.

Your jeans were drenched. Completely soaked.

“We’re gonna have to make a run for it sweets,” Billy said matter of factly, “You don’t wanna show up to 6th period like that do you?” He said looking down at your pants.

You didn’t wanna run out of school, you didn’t wanna risk getting caught, and you didn’t want to miss 6th period but…

"Whew okay, okay," you took deep breaths, rolled up your sleeves, and prepared to run. Billy's hand was on the doorknob, ready to swing the door open so you could run out first.

"Ready... set... go!" With the count of three, the closet door was flung wide open. You burst out, running as if chased by the very hounds of hell, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. Billy trailed close behind, his own flight spurred by the same wild measure of adrenaline that fueled your own.

“Hey! HEY! You damn kids, stay out of my closet!” The janitor's voice echoed through the empty school corridors, his futile attempts to catch up with you adding a sense of comedy to the situation. His words hung in the air, but they were no match for the sound of your laughter. Billy was already caught in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, his shoulders shaking with each chuckle. You could not help but join him, your laughter ringing out as pure and infectious as his.

With the janitor still trailing behind, you made a mad dash for the exit. The school doors, usually a symbol of routine and order, were now your gateway to freedom. You pushed them open with a force that echoed your adrenaline-fueled excitement.

The sight of Billy's car waiting just outside was a beacon of safety. With the taste of rebellion still fresh and the sound of your laughter still lingering, you ran towards it, leaving the echoing protests of the janitor behind you.

"Come on, we have to hurry! Unlock the car!" You called out to Billy, your voice laced with impatience. Billy, quickly fumbled with the keys and with a swift motion, he unlocked the doors and you both hurriedly clambered into the safety of the vehicle.

Billy stepped on the pedal and sped out of the school parking lot the sound of his tires were heard by everyone. You seen out the corner of your eye that the basketball team ran towards the gates in a commotion to see what was going on. You seen Steve too with a look on his face that you couldn’t read.

“Whew that was a close one huh?!” Billy whooped with laughter. He was still pressing on the gas, going well over the speed limit. Left hand was gripping the wheel and his other was resting on your thigh which never failed to make your stomach flutter.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing a feeling you hadn’t felt in a very long time. It almost felt foreign, like a dream.

Who knew a singular person, a boy, could bring you so much joy, so much excitement? It almost felt silly and you wanted so badly to scold yourself for this because it felt like you were setting yourself up for failure. Relying on someone for happiness or depending on someone for happiness was a set up for heartbreak.

But in the end, even if heartbreak did happen, it would all be worth it. Even if things didn’t work out, even if he broke your heart or you broke his, it would still be worth it. Yet, you didn’t want that to happen. You didn’t want this to end, and you didn’t want to hurt each other.

“You okay?” Billy asked, squeezing your thigh in the process, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You brought your doe eyes, which Billy thought were so full of light, up to meet his blue ones.

“Don’t break my heart Billy Hargrove,” you said almost in a whisper. Billy chuckled and looked back towards the road.

Billy’s thoughts had been consumed with you more than anyone else in his life. Like you, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. The childlike excitement you brought out in him, his inability to contain his smile and laughter around you—it all made you unforgettable. You reminded him of everything he always thought was beautiful. You were imperfect like him but constantly striving for perfection, to make things right, to fix things, and he admired that. You were hope, the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. His life was the dark tunnel, and you were the light.

Even if he didn’t handle things well with his father or even with you that night, you being there on the hood of his car, looking up at the stars, changed everything for him.

At times, he even chuckles at the absurdity of it all, hearing Neil’s voice in his head labeling these newfound feelings for you as pathetic and warning of eventual heartache. It made Billy struggle, torn between his emotions and “the voice of reason” echoing in his mind.

“Don’t break mine.” He replied softly

After that, you two rode in silence, music blaring through his radio, while he lightly tapped his fingers on the now semi-dry thigh of your pants.

A few moments later you arrived at the front of your house. Dad still wasn’t home, no surprise there, and you really didn’t want Billy to go home.

You gathered your things, hand on the handle of the car and you turned around with a smile on your face like you had the brightest idea ever before exiting his car completely.

“You wanna come in?”

.

The house was quiet and lonely—the first two things that came to Billy’s mind. It reminded him of the houses he had lived in with his father.

But it was tidy, with nothing out of place, and it smelled just like you—clean and rosy. He picked up a picture frame. In the photo, there were three people: a lady who looked a lot like you, a man, and a little girl with pigtails and missing front teeth, smiling as if life were the greatest gift. The lady and the man looked less lively, even tired, and their smiles seemed forced.

“You live alone or something?” Billy called out as you disappeared into the hallway of your house.

He had never seen anyone besides you going in and out of this house. No other cars, just Steve’s from time to time, Eddie’s, and Nancy’s.

“Come over here!” you yelled from your room. You quickly changed into a pair of shorts and threw your pants into the dirty hamper. You also scrambled to tidy up any noticeable mess in your room.

You heard Billy’s boots hit the wooden floor, and each step made your belly jump with excitement. Sure, having boys over was nothing new, but having a boy you actually liked over was something special.

Seeing him at the door of your room was, I don’t know, it was a feeling your couldn’t really gather into words. It was weird almost surreal.

“This is the only part of my house that matters,” you said with a smile and open arms, presenting your room to him.

There were a variety of posters everywhere—movie posters, to be exact. The Goonies, The Breakfast Club, Scarface, The Godfather, and Gremlins adorned the the tan walls.

The duvet of your bed was white. Funny, he thought, a wry smile playing on his lips as he glanced at it.

There were a few teddy bears on your bed and a full size mirror in front of your bed.

“I like it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming around your room. He sauntered over to your dresser, opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a pair of pink panties with a smug grin. “I like these too,” he added, twirling them around his finger with a smirk.

You stormed toward him, yanked the delicate fabric from his grasp, and shoved it back into your drawer with a sharp motion. “You already have a pair, asshole. Leave the rest of my panties alone,” you snapped, your voice tinged with embarrassment as a deep blush spread across your cheeks.

“You know,” Billy began, stepping closer toward you, his voice softening, “I really want to know why you get all shy around me.”

Was it not obvious, or did he just want to hear the words from your lips? You liked him, everything about him. You even adored him, but saying it out loud felt too embarrassing. So, you rolled your eyes and pushed his hand away and plopped down on your bed.

“I don’t live alone, by the way,” you began, answering the question he had asked earlier.

Billy chuckled at how you avoided his question and settled down beside you.

“My dad lives here, barely,” you said playing with your fingers.

“Is he working or somethin?” Billy asked.

“Yeah, he travels a lot for work. He’s gone for weeks, sometimes even months,” you sighed. “I don’t really see much of him.”

That shattered him. Billy was surrounded by people yet felt alone, but you, you were both.

“What about your mom?” Billy asked.

He didn’t want to pry but he wanted to know more about you, he wanted to know everything in fact.

You took a deep breath before answering, simply because you wanted to suppress the emotions that always surfaced when you were asked that question.

Billy noticed your uneasiness and reached over to grab your hand. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he said softly as he rubbed circles into the back of your hand.

“No, it’s okay. I need to get past the uneasiness I feel every time she comes up in conversation. Maybe one day it won’t hurt as much anymore,” you admitted, a hint of hope in your voice.

Billy gave you a soft smile, his hand still in yours comfortably.

“Um, she passed a year back,”

Your mother was one of Vecna’s victims. You can still hear the snapping of her bones and see the life being sucked out of her eyes before they went dull, her body limp and lifeless.

Before Vecna, your relationship with your mother was strained. She drank wine almost every day, and your father was home more often before you had to downsize houses. Which meant lots of bickering, glasses being broken, slamming doors, and your dad’s car taking off almost every night.

Your mother was aggressive and verbally abusive, constantly criticizing your weight, clothes, hair, and even your choice of clothing. Not a single positive word ever came out of her mouth towards you. She was like your own personal bully.

“God you’re just like him. Always on my case, just worry about your fucking self.”

“That’s how you’re dressing to school? Jesus.”

“Try hanging around Carol more, maybe you’d look a little like her.”

“Leave, leave like your father you ungrateful little bitch!”

“Sorry! I’m so sorry I’m just a shitty mother!”

“It’s a miracle Steve even hangs around you looking like that.”

There was more, much more, but you think your brain blocked out most of the things she said and did while you were growing up. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or sad that you didn’t have many memories from your childhood.

Around the time Vecna’s murders were happening, you noticed a few changes in your mom’s behavior. She started drinking even more, but she wasn’t aggressive like before. Instead, she became quiet and withdrawn, spending a lot of time in bed. Things got progressively worse as she began waking up screaming in fear, afraid to leave the house, and became increasingly emotional. You remember the time she woke you up out of your sleep, blubbering with apologies, 3 day old mascara was runny, face full of tears and snot.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so, so sorry please forgive me.”

You eventually shared your mother’s symptoms with the gang, and they matched up with what Vecna’s victims were experiencing. You had a heartfelt conversation with your mother about it, both of you crying together. You promised her to keep your father out of it, and you both tried your best. I think what hurt the most was having hope amidst the despair.

Hope for a new relationship, a clean slate. You all tried.

The next day, your mother ran into the woods, and you chased after her. There, you found her floating in the air.

Snap, snap, snap, and thud.

You were a pool of tears at this point, struggling to get the words out. God, you couldn’t tell Billy this. You hated lying, but him knowing the truth would put him in so much danger.

“Um, I’m sorry…” you said with shaky breaths. “It was, uh, some illness. Doctors didn’t really know what it was,” you explained, your heart skipping a beat. It felt wrong to lie to him.

“It was the worst because she finally apologized to me and we were on the brink of a clean slate…” you said taking a deep breath again, “Um, she was a lot Neil, and she put me through hell. But, I was willing to let all that go just to fix things between us, I wanted to know what it was like to have her like that fully. She was the sweetest, funniest woman on her deathbed, it was something new and it left me with so much hope,” you said, the tears were running down your face like a waterfall now. “But hope is for suckers..” you laughed bitterly, “She died a few days later.” You finished, looking into Billy’s now sad blue eyes.

His heart broke over and over again. You didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve that. What’s up with the universe putting us in fucked in broken homes? He thought.

“Don’t say that,” Billy said sternly. “Hope isn’t for suckers. You give me hope every day.” He took a deep breath, embracing vulnerability. “You remind me a lot of myself… and now I understand why. Hanging around the wrong crowd, being a bitch. I’m still those things…” he confessed, locking eyes with you. “But every day, I strive to be more like you because you’re the perfect example of how people can change, no matter what. I want to change. I don’t want to be like Neil. I want to be better, do better.” He smiled warmly, reaching over to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I’m really trying so hard not to sob right now and you’re not making it any better,” you said with a wobbly voice.

“S’okay honey, you can cry,” he giggled. He brought you into a hug and you nuzzled your face into his neck letting out quiet sobs. He brushed the back of your head. You two stayed like that for a while and he didn’t mind it one bit.

A few moments went by and you finally took your head out of his embrace.

“Do you maybe want to sleep over?” You asked, wiping the remaining tears off your face. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, I-I just really like you being here and I wouldn’t mind sharing the bed-” you rambled, but Billy cut you off before you went any further, “I’d love to.”

.

Billy left to grab a few things from his house and you took a quick shower.

When you were done, you rubbed on your favorite strawberry lotion, a gift from Nancy because it reminded her of you.

You quickly changed into a band tee and some shorts, then plopped down on your bed, staring at the ceiling questioning if today was real.

Billy looked to you for hope. You were Billy’s hope. It was such a strange feeling. You felt important and seen, something you had never felt before. And he was coming over tonight.

Oh. My. God.

Billy was coming over tonight, and he was going to be sleeping in your bed. You took deep breaths, trying not to freak out over the fact that there was going to be a boy sleeping in your bed tonight.

Three knocks at your front door snapped you back to reality and the anxiety started to creep back in again. You scrambled out of bed and made your way towards the door.

You opened it and there he was. He was still in the same clothes from earlier.

“You think I can use your shower?” He asked. “Max was having a Madonna concert in ours, and she wasn’t getting out anytime soon,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

You laughed, picturing her screaming her lungs out like she did that one time in Steve’s car.

“Yeah it’s fine follow me,” you said, “Oh! And lock the door behind you please!”

You walked towards the bathroom, which was right across your room, and stepped inside to turn on the shower and adjust the water for him.

“Not too hot, not too cold right?” You questioned as you played with the knobs, you remembered how he liked the water when you were helping him during his recovery.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, settling his duffel on top of the sink and kicking off his shoes. When you turned around, he was already shirtless and in his boxers. You tried to keep your eyes from roaming, but it was hard.

“My eyes are up here, doll,” He said smugly. You cleared your throat. “Um, water should be good. If it isn’t right, hot; left, cold,” you said, trying to regain your composure.

“I trust you, thank you. I won’t be long,” he said, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled and left closing the door behind you.

Billy took a deep breath inhaling the air which smelled like you. He loved it.

He loved it so much it made his dick half hard. He stepped into the warm shower and thought about today.

He had never done anything like today, and he had never willingly slept over at a girl’s house before. He was used to sneaking out and sneaking in, leaving at the brink of dawn. But today he was going to sleep next to you, feel the heat of your body right next to him, smell you.

His dick was now fully hard.

“You need to behave,” he scolded himself, looking down at his hard-on.

He turned the shower knob to the left and prepared himself for the cold water that was about to hit him.

He hissed at that feeling but his dick was soft again. He decided to just leave it on for the remainder of the shower to keep it from happening again.

Once he was done, he dried off and grabbed his duffel to get his lotion. He rummaged through his things but couldn’t find it. He moved his belongings around, hoping it was at the bottom of the bag, but still found nothing.

“Shit,” he muttered, disappointed. He put his things away and noticed a pink bottle of lotion on your counter labeled, “Sweet, Sweet Strawberry.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle, squirting a few pumps into his hand. He needed to moisturize; he had no other choice.

He smelled just like you, your body wash, your lotion.

He pushed his thoughts away and threw on his boxers and black sweats that hung low on his hips. Gathering his belongings, he made his way to your room, switching off the bathroom light as he exited.

Your nose was in a book, and he admired you from the doorway of your room. You wore glasses, your legs crossed, shorts hiking up the curve of your butt as you leaned back against the bed frame. He could get used to this be thought.

You felt eyes on you and glanced away from your book for a moment, seeing Billy at your doorframe. Your eyes met his. He was shirtless, sweats hanging from his hips, his happy trail on full display, and his curls damp.

You shut the book completely with wide eyes, silently praying, “Please don’t ask me what it’s about,” in your head. You were reading a very inappropriate passage of your book, which made it look like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing, and you didn’t want him to know what you were reading.

“What you reading that’s got you so stuck?” He asked, his curiosity clear.

Shit.

“It’s uh, a-a romance,” you stuttered. It was hard to keep your composure around him, especially with him being shirtless, looking like walking sex leaning on your doorframe.

He left his duffel bag beside your dresser and closed the door behind him.

“You don’t mind if I close the door do you?” He asked before he joined you on the bed. “No it’s fine, I hate sleeping with the door open.” You replied.

He jumped into bed with you and got underneath the covers and you so did you. Your stomach was dancing with butterflies.

"So?" He asked, with raised eyebrows and a smirk, nodding towards the book in your hands.

Your eyes went wide. You can’t tell him what you were just reading. Geez absolutely not, it was filthy.

“It’s, um, about a girl and a boy,” you said, foolishly. Billy let out a loud laugh. “Obviously, dork, but what else?” You looked down at the book in your hands, searching for something more to say, but your mind went blank.

“Fine, if you’re not going to tell me, let me see where you left off so I can get an idea,” he said, attempting to grab the book from your hands. You immediately snatched the book from his grasp and hid it under the covers.

“No!” You yelped, feeling a surge of panic. Oh, now Billy absolutely had to know what was in this so-called romance.

He yanked the blanket off of you, and you held the book to your chest tightly. Billy was now hovering over you, your waist between his legs, attempting to pry the book from your grasp.

“Come on, let me see!” he said, eagerly reaching for the book.

He began to tickle your sides, and you erupted in laughter, but you weren’t budging. In a quick attempt to distract him, you threw the book to the wall by your dresser, hoping to catch him off guard.

He turned his head slightly, and you seized the opportunity to pull his neck down so he could face you. Now, you were both staring deeply into each other’s eyes. You looked down at his lips and leaned in slowly. But he couldn’t wait, so he pressed his lips into yours harshly.

So much for controlling himself tonight. He thought.

The kiss was fervent, like it always was. You let out the slightest moans that went straight to his dick. His arms were caging your head and he was pressing into you slowly.

You decided to experiment and brought your hand down to rub the outline of his dick through his sweats. It made everything so much hotter.

Billy moaned into your mouth as you your hands explored the outline of him. You pulled back from his lips and he groaned at the loss of contact.

“Billy c-can I see it?” You asked innocently, looking at his now dark blue eyes.

He nodded and leaned back on your bed stand. He lifted his butt from off the bed slightly and slid his boxers and sweats down at the same time.

You gasped at what you were now seeing. His thick member slapped his stomach and his tip that resembled a mushroom was an angry red.

Billy kept his eyes on you mesmerized with how star stuck you were over his cock.

You reached your over hand to grab at his length curiously and he groaned bucking his hips slightly at the contact.

It was warm and harder than it was earlier, feeling it bare was different from feeling it through his jeans.

You didn’t like the position you were in; sitting on your knees had become uncomfortable. So, you lay on his chest, keeping your hand on his length.

"Tell me what to do to you," you whispered, your hand weakly gripping the base of his cock.

Billy could see everything reflected in the full-length mirror in front of your bed.

Your cheek rested on his bare chest, your warmth almost making him burst. His cock captured your full attention as your fingers gently squeezed and released it, your eyes curiously examining the length of it. The scene was intimate, but he didn’t mind it at all.

“Spit on your hand,” he commanded, and you obliged. In any other situation, this would have been disgusting, but right now it was far from it.

“Now move it in an up and down like this,” Billy grabbed your hand and guided it to his throbbing member in an up and down motion.

Your hand was sliding up and down his cock now, slimy and hot with the slick of your saliva. “Yeah, fuck, yeah just like that baby,” He eventually moved his hand and let you take control, you found a steady motion but excited about the moans Billy was letting out you played around with it a little and went slow when you reached the tip of him.

He watched you through the mirror, mouth agape, with shock and pleasure.

“Ah, shit y/n,” he groaned, mouth hung open. He was so ready to spill but was holding out as long for as long as he could.

Your eyes drifted to the front of the mirror. The view was incredible. Billy Hargrove was a mess under your fingers, beneath your inexperienced hands. His mouth hung open, groans and moans spilling from his soft pink lips, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

You both now locked eyes in the mirror. You began to pick up the pace, your movements becoming faster and less steady, as you tightened your grip on him.

Billy’s hand gripped your thigh harshly, the pain intensifying the ache in your core. Your mouth fell open just from watching him come undone. You focused your pace on the tip of his cock, “Shit, I’m coming, it’s gonna shoot out, It-“ before he could finish you quickly wrapped your mouth around the tip of him catching him completely by surprise.

He sat up and lifted his hips into your mouth shooting sticky hot ropes of cum into it as he gripped your hair a moaning and groaning mess.

The taste wasn’t good or bad, it was tolerable enough for you to swallow. You hallowed your cheeks a bit and wrapped your tongue around him savoring how he felt in your mouth and let go with a pop.

No words were exchanged as you pulled back; just Billy shoving his tongue into your mouth and you moaning at the roughness of it.

Your face was hot, your body was hot, and the heat of his and your mouths made everything even hotter.

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you whispered against his lips, now understanding how he felt earlier.

Billy broke the lip lock you two were entranced in and pulled his sweats back up. As gently as he could, he dragged you to the edge of your bed by the back of your thighs.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, getting on his knees and locking his deep blue eyes with yours.

You did. In the short time you had known each other, you trusted him with your life. Silly, isn’t it? Vulnerability, intimacy.

“Yes,” you breathed, a little too desperately. He smiled and grabbed the waistband of your shorts, slowly pulling them down your legs. You lifted your butt slightly to help him get them off completely.

You were now completely bare from the waist down again, but this time he had a full view of your pretty cunt.

Billy licked his lips like a hungry animal about to devour its prey, his gaze intense and focused on your sopping wet cunt.

“So pretty,” he whispered, mesmerized by the sight before him.

“And she’s soaking wet honey, what was it?” He asked caressing her with his thumb causing you to gasp loudly.

“T-the mirror,” you stuttered, your eyes taking in the sight of Billy on his knees before you.

“Hmmm just the mirror?” He questioned like his words had a double meaning behind them.

It wasn’t just the mirror; it was him. Having him at your fingertips, your crush on him, how much you liked him—all of it intensified everything for you. This wasn’t purely sexual; this wasn’t just him helping you with your lack of experience. It was more. You had feelings for him.

He made you nervous, made your stomach dance with butterflies, and infuriated you in the best way possible.

You now knew what he was doing. He was trying to get you to admit there was something more, which is why he asked you why he made you so nervous earlier.

You kept quiet, your pride keeping you from admitting your liking towards him. He knew you did; he just wanted to hear the words from your mouth.

You kept quiet, your moans and gasps getting harder to contain as he kept gliding up and down your pussy. You were getting closer and closer to the edge.

He saw this too. You were now bucking your hips up to feel more, and he pulled back, teasingly withholding what you craved.

You groaned, annoyed at the loss of contact. He planted a kiss right on your clit, causing you to jolt up a little. The feeling was foreign and new, and you wanted more.

“Just tell me, baby, and I’ll keep going without stopping, I promise,” he said, looking back up into your eyes.

“It wasn’t just the mirror,” you gasped.

“No?” Billy asked in a teasing manner, focusing his attention back on your desperate cunt. He licked a stripe from your entrance to the top of your clit, stopping just short, causing you to whimper.

“Fuck! It was you, you! I have feelings for you. So many feelings that it makes it hard to even breathe sometimes!” You confessed, slightly frustrated at the on and off teasing.

“Wasn’t that hard was it?” He cheekily replied, now putting his entire mouth over your pussy eating you out like it was his dying wish. The warmth of his mouth was overwhelming, the way he moved his tongue to lap your clit was making your eyes roll back.

He was literally making out with the most sacred part of you.

Your grip tightened on your sheets and your toes curled in pleasure. “Oh-oh my gosh Billy please,” you moaned struggling to keep your composure.

He started to swirl his tongue right on your pearl and entered two fingers into your tight sopping hole, causing you to let out the most guttural moan. Your toes curled and drool started to creep outside the corners of your mouth.

The pressure started building up in your belly, feeling as if you were about to explode. He started to pump his fingers faster and faster, causing you to scream profanities in ecstasy.

“Ah! Fuck! Billy, I’m coming, I’m coming!” You screamed, and he kept his eyes on you the entire time, multitasking with his mouth still on you and his fingers pumping in a fast manner.

The feeling of release washed over you, and you finally let go, stopping fighting it.

You lifted a hand and gripped the mess of curls on his head, pushing him further into you, riding out your orgasm. You felt the vibrations of his groans on your pussy, making everything spin around you in a euphoric haze.

Your elbows gave out, and you were now flat on the bed, stuck in a haze. Everything was blurry, and you felt limp, completely spent from the intensity of the experience.

“Y/n? Y/n?” He sing-songed, tapping the inside of your thigh. “Hmm?” you asked, completely out of it, lost in the aftermath of pleasure.

“You okay?” He giggled, his head now resting on your thigh looking up at you in admiration.

“Mhmmm,” you responded weakly, with a hazy smile.

“You got anything I can clean this up with?” He asked, removing his head from your thigh. You lifted yourself up slightly, and your eyes widened at the mess you made.

His face was dripping with slick, his chest wet with the juices that squirted out of you, and the duvet underneath you was soaked.

“Again?” You groaned, rolling your eyes and facepalming. “There’s towels in my closet,” you said, plopping back on your bed and weakly pointing to the closet to the left of you.

He grabbed the towels and wiped his face and chest first, he then walked over to you and wiped below your thighs, then the inside of your legs and thighs carefully.

He slipped your panties back up and tapped your butt twice, signaling for you to lift yourself up so he could slide them all the way up and you obliged.

“I need to take the duvet off, we could sleep with the blanket that’s under it,” he said tapping your thigh again, “Come on get up,” he commanded.

“UGH! I can’t move. I feel like jello,” you complained, not wanting to move, causing Billy to laugh. “Too bad move,” he said.

You rolled over, groaning dramatically, and slipped under the blanket beneath your duvet, which Billy had just snatched off and tossed into your dirty hamper.

Billy joined you on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled in. You were facing away from him, unintentionally, simply exhausted but content and happy.

“Come here,” he said gruffly. You turned around and cuddled up next to him, finding comfort in his embrace.

You smelled something familiar radiating off of him.

“Are you wearing my strawberry lotion?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I forgot mine at home,” he gruffed grumpily, rolling his eyes.

You laughed and kissed his chest, closing your eyes, ready to sleep in his comforting embrace.

He caressed the crown of your head with his hand and kissed the top of your forehead.

“I like you too,” he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. “You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep.”

You both drifted off into a deep sleep feeling safer than you’ve ever felt in each others embarace.

Taglist: @jennapancake @writethrough @callsignwidow @strlightfilms @empathyroad @moneyy-21 @fossface @t3n1 @kpoppunk18-blog

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[padfootagain]

The Last Chance (I)

Chapter 1 : Meeting

Hi! Coming back with a request for my Comeback Event!! Woohoo!!! Today we are answering an anonymous request : ‘Ben Barnes & #23 for the event? 💗’. Prompt 23 was ‘wrong time to right time’.

I was actually super happy to receive this prompt for Ben, because I had already planned to write something of the kind for Ben using his acoustic video for 11:11… you’ll see what I mean when you read the third part of the fic, but it fits my plans perfectly! So, thank you so much for your request!! Although this was meant to be a one-shot, it got completely out of hand, and I had to split the fic into three parts! So, here is part 1, and you’ll get part 2 on April 29 (2023) and part 3 on May 1rst!

I hope you enjoy your fic, anon!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warning: angst… with a happy ending 😉 But for this first part, it’s rather a fluffy beginning and an angsty ending…

Summary: you and Ben have been caught in a game of hide and seek for decades now; always loving each other at the wrong time in your lives. Can this finally be the right moment for the two of you?

Word count: 4693

It’s late. It’s raining. You’re bored out of your mind, actually.

Amazing idea to follow your friends from university as they crash every bar in town… Wonderful plan. Especially when you have to wait for your roommate to go back to the campus, to finally go to bed. You check your watch. It’s almost 1am. You have an exam tomorrow at eleven. Great… So much for your good night of rest and quiet.

There’s only so much space under the porch of this bar. You’re partly soaked already.

Great…

You look inside once more, to see your friend snogging some guy. You don’t know him. He’s cute though, you guess. Black hair. Warm sweater. Lean. He blushes when your friend pulls away, you guess he’s a little shy. Maybe that’s the guy she’s been talking about, the cute one Cassie met in one of your classes… which class is it again? It has something to do with 18th century literature, you reckon, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You give the couple five more minutes before storming inside and pulling her out by the neck yourself…

You go to the bathroom for five minutes, and that’s all the time Cassie needs to meet the guy she’s trying to date and to start snogging him in public… wonderful…

Or well, maybe snogging is a bit much. Kissing is more accurate.

You decide that a cigarette is going to calm you down, so you light one up and take a long drag. The feeling of the intoxicating smoke does help. You feel yourself relaxing, but you don’t give up on your resolution to kick your roommate’s arse, and to do so rather sooner than later.

You’re taking your second drag when the door behind you opens, and you move a little to the side to let the young man walk out. He gives you a shy smile and a nod to silently thank you, and you copy his polite gesture. But instead of walking away in the street, he remains under the shelter of the porch next to you, glancing inside through the glass door. He buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Waiting for someone too?” you ask him, trying to be nonchalant.

Actually, you’re a little uncomfortable that a stranger shares your hiding spot. He seems nice enough though. Dark hair. Tall. He gives you a shy smile.

“Yeah, waiting for a friend. Sorry, if I’m bothering you during your cigarette break.”

“No worries. I’m waiting for my roommate to go home.”

“Looks like we both have some lousy friends,” he jokes, and you decide that you like his smile.

He accepts the cigarette that you offer him, and he lights it up with your lighter. He inhales deeply the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a few seconds, before puffing it out in a white cloud. You can’t help but notice that he’s rather handsome doing that…

“Yeah… and I have a test tomorrow morning,” you go on, looking for a distraction as the stranger raises the cigarette back to his lips. “So, I will probably murder her if she doesn’t come out soon.”

He chuckles with you.

“You’re studying at university?” he asks, deciding that doing conversation is better than merely waiting in the cold night. He’s already half-soaked because of how small this porch is and how hard it rains.

“Literature.”

“Really? Kingston too?”

“Yes…”

“I’ve never seen you in class.”

“You’re studying English as well?”

“Yeah, junior year.”

“Oh… you’re one year ahead, that’s why!”

You take the last drag off your cigarette, and rub the incandescent tip against the sole of your shoe, making the blaze die out.

“You like it so far?” he asks.

It’s only November but it’s cold already, and you can see the white puff of air escaping his lungs as he speaks; it dances in the cold air and the golden light coming from the streetlamp a few feet away, along with the one shed by the pub.

“Yeah, it’s alright. You?”

“Sure.”

You don’t really know what to say, and you look for your friend again, who is still snogging her date…

“Which one is your lousy friend?” the stranger asks, looking inside as well.

“The blond one with a tongue in her throat, at the back.”

You don’t understand why he starts laughing. It’s loud and infectious though. You like it.

“Well, looks like we share the same doom. My friend is the one with his tongue in her throat.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

You check your watch, heaving a sigh.

You look cute. It’s the first thought that comes to his mind as he looks at your annoyed expression. You’re crinkling your nose, and it’s adorable. He finds you pretty, even like this: clearly frozen, half-drenched, your hair and clothes dishevelled. Really pretty, actually…

“What a pair of morons,” you mumble under your breath. “I give them two more minutes before committing a murder.”

He can’t help but chuckle. You’re funny.

“I can be your alibi if you’d like,” he offers, making you laugh.

“Works for me.”

He’s about to speak again, ask about your name, yourself, what you like, if you’re free tomorrow night, but you’re faster than him. You blurt out a triumphant shout.

“Hallelujah! They’re standing up! We can go home!”

“A bloody miracle!”

He can’t help it. The way he’s kind of… disappointed. He takes one last drag out of his cigarette, staring at you and the way the golden light of the pub dances over your features.

A minute later and your friend and her date are finally in the street with you.

“Oh, Y/N! You haven’t met my boyfriend yet!” Cassie says, looking excited.

“Nope. Haven’t had the pleasure. But, huh… well, I’m Y/N,” you tell the dark-haired guy who’s still holding your friend’s hand.

He gives you a crooked smile, a little arrogant around the edges. He looks cute, you’ve got to admit. You do find his friend cuter though. You like the way he blushes now that all of you are cramped under the small space of the porch.

“Nice to meet, Y/N. I’m Jonathan. Oh, but… looks like you’ve met my friend already. Hmm, Cassie, this is Ben. We’re in the same year.”

He waves at her, and she greets him too. But Ben’s eyes land quickly on you again.

So… your name’s Y/N. That’s a cute name…

You’re there.

He’s been trying to see you again for the past two weeks, but couldn’t find a way to reach you. You were never around when Jonathan met Cassie, and Ben wanted to talk directly to you, instead of asking to one of your friends. He’s been about to abandon this crazy idea of his, these past couple of days. But now… here you are…

You’re sitting at a table alone in the middle of the library; focused on a large book, he recognizes the cover even from afar. Poetry. He knows, he went through the same book the previous year. He can’t help an amused smile. It’s a rough class, you’ll struggle for sure, just like everyone does.

He takes a deep breath, trying to control his quickening heartbeat and the sudden shakiness in his hands.

Damn, you make him so nervous… and he has barely talked to you at all for now.

He can feel his cheeks reddening, the heat creeping up all the way to the tip of his ears, but he can’t help it, can’t fight it. Just like he can’t fight the way his heart stops when you look up at him.

You must have felt that he was staring, that’s why your eyes lifted from the yellowed pages to settle on him. He can’t look away anymore.

You’re terribly pretty. Damn… you make him so nervous.

He’s not good at this. But he’s got to try, because after a small frown, you seem to recognize him and you’re smiling. You’re smiling, bright and warm and welcoming.

Right… it’s nothing really. Worst case scenario, you’ll simply say you’re not interested in him at all, and your two lives will go on as if this never happened.

He forces a smile on his lips, clenches his fists behind his back to help calm his nerves.

You can see he’s nervous though. He’s shy, you can tell. You read it on his lips despite the smile that takes shape there; the gesture’s small but earnest. You see it painted in red over his nose and cheeks. You find it adorable, to be honest…

“Hi, Y/N,” he speaks in a shy voice, whispering as he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet of the library.

“Hi, Ben! It’s nice to see you again, especially not at 1am under the cold rain.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too,” he answers with a breathy chuckle, and his smile is bigger now, merrier too. “Would you mind if I sat down with you?”

“No, not at all. Please, sit down.”

You move some of your pens and papers to the side so he can sit opposite you.

“I see you’re struggling in Barrows’s class too,” he teases you, nodding towards the book.

“Yeah… this class is complicated. But then, I feel like everybody is struggling as much as I am, so it must not come from me.”

“No, I struggled a lot with it too. I can help you, if you want.”

“Oh, that would be nice of you, thank you. But I don’t want to bother you...”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, I’m offering. I’ve got about an hour before I need to leave, gives us plenty of time.”

“Okay, then. Thank you.”

Ben struggles at first to remember precisely what was taught in the class, but it comes back quickly as you ask him questions, and the two of you spend about half an hour studying. But then, the conversation drifts away from poetry; and it’s his fault really, he’s the one who makes a hilarious joke. The words you exchange change from literature to your favourite movie, to this play he’s seen a few weeks ago, to your love for stories, to his love for acting, to your mother and her funny habits, to his brother who’s growing up too fast to his liking. He is more relaxed now, the blushing has subsided, and you find him funny. There’s something gentle and kind in his gaze, you can feel he’s a nice guy.

The more the conversation goes on, the more you notice how handsome he is, and it’s hard to control your heartbeat when he intensely stares at you with these black eyes of his. You’re the one avoiding his gaze now, not as confident as you were when he arrived.

Damn, he makes you so nervous…

He checks his watch as you try to quieten your laughter against the palm of your hand, but you fail miserably to do so, and the student at the table next to yours sends you a glare.

Ben’s eyes grow round, and he suddenly jumps on his feet.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh, yes, you said you had something… I’m sorry, I didn’t check the time.”

But he shoots you a reassuring smile, and you find it infectious; the gesture spreads across your lips as well.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry. But I need to go.”

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble…”

“No, don’t worry. I’m just meeting up with some friends for rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing? Rehearsing what?”

He smiles, red back to colour his cheeks, and he seems to hesitate before speaking.

“I play the drums.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Like… you’re any good?”

“Enough to play in the West End.”

“Wow… I have to admit I did not see this one coming.”

Ben’s standing by the table now, his bag haphazardly thrown on his shoulder, but he’s not moving yet, not even if he’s late. He doesn’t want to.

“Why? Not bad-boyish enough?” he chuckles, but you can see he’s only half-joking.

“Well, you’ve got to admit that… basic jeans and a plain blue jumper don’t really strike me as ‘drummer in a rock-band’ type of clothing,” you tease him.

“No, I guess not.”

You can’t believe you’re the one speaking the next words that pass your lips, but they still tumble out of your mouth, in a whisper so low you almost hope he doesn’t hear you.

“Despite the comfy clothes, it’s still quite sexy, though.”

But he’s heard you just fine. As proof, you’re staring at each other in silence for several seconds, both your heartbeats erratic, and your breathing a mess. Slowly, a smile curves up his lips, until he’s properly grinning.

“Well, then… if I use the argument that I’m a drummer… maybe you’ll find me interesting enough to go out with me this Friday?”

You struggle not to smile, but miserably fail. You look away to hide your reaction.

“Depends on what you have in mind, I guess.”

“Well… they’re playing When Harry Met Sally at a little cinema nearby. What do you say? The movie is at nine.”

“If we can grab a pizza before that, then I’m down for it.”

You exchange a grin.

“That could be arranged. Then… let’s say… seven thirty before your dorm?”

“How do you know where my dorm is?”

“Jonathan.”

“Oh… and Cassie?”

“Sadly, yes.”

You chuckle together, and you nod your head.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

When he leaves, you watch him walking out of the library, with his blue jeans and navy jumper too big for him, and you can’t refrain a dreamy smile.

Looks like you’ve got a date…

Your sides are painful, he makes you laugh too much.

He’s making silly voices to comment the TV show you’re watching on your tiny television screen. You’ve forgotten altogether what the show is about, Ben is too distracting. You don’t mind though. It feels good to laugh. Finals are over, summer is upon you. It’s a happy time to be alive. Night quiet, goofy boyfriend and warm clothes, with an empty pizza box discarded somewhere on the floor.

You’re cuddled into his side, with his hand on your waist and your head on his chest. It’s warm and safe in his embrace, you love the sound of his breathing against your ear, the way you shake a little as he laughs.

It’s peaceful and happy and you feel lucky to be with him.

“You’re insufferable, I can’t even watch TV with you,” you tease him; the grin on your lips and the laugh making your voice hoarse are enough to show you’re merely joking.

“What are you talking about? We are watching TV. If not, then what are we doing? Snogging? I wish…”

You playfully swat his shoulder.

“Perv!”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

You fake outrage.

“Benjamin!”

“Yes, darling?”

You look at each other, before bursting into laughter.

“I’m joking!” he reassures you, before suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. “Unless you’re in the mood…”

You push him away, laughing some more. Actually, you push him so much he almost falls off your bed, and you have to pull him back towards you so he won’t fall.

You both gasp, before losing yourselves in an uncontrollable laughter.

It takes you two a while to finally calm down, both of you crying with laughter and struggling to breathe.

“Darling… you really will be the death of me,” says Ben, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Well, not your death… but your ticket to the hospital, probably…”

Before you can joke some more, you’re back into his arms. You don’t stop him when he pulls you close, you’re used to it. That’s his way of saying he cares.

He’s a little surprised when you kiss him. He thought you’d banter some more, he knows you like it. But instead of your playfulness, he’s met with your soft lips that taste like the sweet soda you’ve been drinking tonight. It’s not hard for him to forget about everything while you kiss him. No plans for the summer, no TV, no world outside your lips on his, your tongue teasing him, your hands in his hair, the soft fabric of your t-shirt, and the warmth of your skin as he cradles your cheek.

When you break away, you’re both out of breath.

Ben struggles to clear his throat, nose brushing against yours, eyes still closed.

“So… snogging then, huh?”

You laugh. You should speak about the summer, about what you’re going to do about your relationship in the coming months, but you don’t want to. This evening is too nice, you’re happy. Unbelievably so.

As you stare at him, getting lost in his dark eyes, you reckon that now is not the time for this serious talk. You’d rather bathe in the feeling of his embrace, of his lips upon yours. You’d rather linger for a while in this state, where you feel safe and cared for.

Instead of talking about plans, and obstacles, you choose merrier words, tender ones.

“Maybe I just love you.”

You see he’s surprised. After all, none of you have said it yet. You’re not worried though, he looks at you with too much tenderness for that.

“Well, maybe I love you too.”

You kiss while grinning, it’s messy and affectionate and it tastes of carelessness and a happiness you ought to hold onto while it lasts. It’s ephemeral, yet you wish it could last for a lifetime.

“I can’t come on Saturday.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“That’s alright, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I have an audition for a play in the West End on Monday, I need to work as much as I can.”

“Do you want me to help you with your lines? We could practice.”

“Jonathan is going to help. It’ll be easier, the scene is between two guys. Besides, you haven’t taken any class about acting this year. I don’t mean to offend you but…”

“Jonathan has more experience, I get it. No need to worry. I need a little bit more than that to be offended.”

“I know… still… it makes me feel awful. It’s the third time in a row I’m cancelling a date night…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s alright, really. I get it. You need to get a job. I’m sure it’s going to work out. I’m expecting nothing less but a leading role for you, mister.”

Your voice is teasing, and you pull on the collar of his white shirt to drop a sweet peck on his lips, his stubble tickling your skin, but none of you are fooled.

You’re disappointed. Almost mad.

He feels guilty. Almost sad.

It’s not the first time it happens, you reckon it won’t be the last. You should not take it so seriously, and yet you do. You take this too seriously, because you haven’t had a proper date in over a month. You haven’t spent more than two nights together in three weeks. You’ve barely had a full conversation in the past few days.

You’re drifting apart. You’re drifting apart because he’s got all these things to do to get a job, and you’re still a student, and you don’t live with the same rhythms anymore.

Still, you love him. You’ll make it work.

“If your audition is on Monday, what if we have a pizza and a movie on Tuesday?” you offer, hugging him close, as if you’re scared he’s going to leave too soon.

“But you have classes early in the morning on Wednesdays…”

“It’s okay. I can skip one class, it won’t kill me. Cassie will give me all her notes. It’s just this once. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d rather spend my evening with you.”

He gives you a tender smile, taking you in his arms to hold you in a tight embrace, dropping sweet kisses on your hair.

You’re drifting apart.

Still, he loves you. He’ll make it work.

“Alright, then. Date night on Tuesday. And if I get this job, I’ll treat you to a nice restaurant. Would you like that?”

You enthusiastically nod, before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You hold onto each other for a long time.

You’re drifting apart. It’s alright though. You’ll both make it work. You have to.

It’s funny how life works haphazardly sometimes, it would seem.

It’s random, really. The fact that you met, the fact that you crossed path again in this library, the fact that you fell in love with him, the fact that you have to say goodbye now.

Because you know already how this is going to end. You’re having a conversation, but you both already know all the arguments.

You’re flying to Dublin to get a job in a small newspaper, and he’s flying to Australia to play in a huge movie. He wants to focus on acting. You want to figure yourself out. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it’s just that you don’t want to sacrifice this opportunity for him. And it’s not that he has stopped loving you, it’s just that he wants to give his career a try. A reel one. And to do that, he needs to travel across the globe.

You’re barely out of college, you could feel it was coming. Ben has been working for a while now, and you know your worlds are not aligning as much anymore. Instead, they feel more like two strangers standing next to each other. They felt like an embrace before.

It’s been here for a while, the acknowledgment that this is not the right time for the two of you. You’re young, you love him but you’re not sure what you want. And he’s young, he loves you but he has dreams in his head he wants to catch before they pass out of reach. You’re lost, and he’s determined. You love him, and he loves you. But everything else in your lives have stopped matching a while ago.

He's got an opportunity, and an amazing one. And you have an opportunity as well. And the two are thousands of miles apart.

“We could give it a try,” he offers, but you can hear it in his voice that even he doesn’t believe in his own words.

“It’s never going to work,” you argue.

“No need to be so pessimistic about it.”

He reaches for your hand across the mattress. The sheets are soft under your palm. You wish you could resist him, but you can’t, and so you entwine your fingers together.

“I’m still in love with you,” Ben lets out in a shaky breath.

“I love you too. I think… I think I always will, in a way.”

You look up at the ceiling to prevent any tear from escaping. You don’t want to be crying. It would be silly. You knew it was coming, it has been there for months.

You’re not parting ways because he cheated, because he’s stopped loving you, because he’s a jerk, because he’s treating you badly...

He’s a sweetheart. He’s a nice guy. Your lives have drifted apart, that’s all. You’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing you, because you love him, but you can’t make it work.

“I don’t want this to be over,” he goes on, “but I don’t see any other way. Cause… cause it’s… we’ll never see each other, how can this work?”

“I know, Ben. I know. That’s why we need to stop this, before it goes sour. Before our love for each other becomes bitter because we’re frustrated with the distance, and your job, and mine, and our different goals… It’s alright. It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s not really our fault. We just… want different things. And no one can have everything they want in life.”

You’re right, and he knows it. Still, as he looks at you like this, on the verge of tears, with your fingers in his, with this sadness painted all over your features… he still loves you. He’s crazy about you, really.

But you’re right, and the two of you don’t want the same things. Still, he’s pretty certain he’s making the wrong choice right now. He knows he’ll regret this as soon as he’ll walk out of your bedroom, as soon as he’ll exit your dorm. He’ll regret this. But then again, he would regret not giving his career a chance too.

Which one is worse? He’s not sure. But he knows you’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing him, because he loves you, but he can’t make it work.

“I want… I want us both to be happy, you know that, right?” he says, his voice shaking. “I want… I want to give my career a try, and you want to take that job in Dublin, and I hope you know that I support you in this. I… You’re… you’ve always been fearless. And I want you to be free to do whatever you want in this life, I want you to find your own path. But above all, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. Do you understand? I support you in this, even if it means that we can’t be together, and I am not blaming you for it. It’s my fault as much as it is yours. Alright? Do you see what I mean?”

You nod, giving him a smile.

“Our lives are just… heading in opposite directions, but I really want you to be happy and brave and to do what you love most,” he repeats himself, as if to make sure you get it, as if he’s afraid you might imagine his feelings for you have changed, when they haven’t faltered at all. “Okay?”

Again, you nod, and silence settles in the room. You’re still holding hands, and you don’t want to let go, even when you speak once more.

“I don’t think we should stay friends, though,” you add, your voice shaking, but nonetheless, he doesn’t fail to recognize determination in your tone. “I mean… We still have feelings for each other. And we need to get on with our lives, get over this. And I don’t think I could get over you if we stayed in touch. So… I think it would be best if we broke up and… never saw each other again.”

He looks up at the ceiling to fight the tears that threaten to escape.

Outside, it’s raining. Late afternoon drenched with raindrops that paint strange patterns on the cold windowpanes. You haven’t turned on the light, despite the dark sky, and the light that comes in is dim, weak, almost trembling. You listen to the rain while Ben tightens his hold on your hand. You don’t want him to let go, but you know he will.

“Alright, as you wish.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I get it. I think… I think you’re right. In the end, it will be better if we don’t stay in touch.”

He doesn’t tell you that he simply… doesn’t want to get over you. Not yet, at least. But then, when he thinks about it, he reckons it’s normal. It’ll pass. Soon, he’ll want to get over you.

It’ll pass…

He gets up all of a sudden, without warning. He lets go of your hand, like you knew he would. It hurts the same, whether you were prepared for it or not…

He puts on his coat, bends to pick up his black umbrella stranded on the floor. Outside, it’s still raining. You hear someone shouting. Cars in the distance. A whole world you’re aware of.

He walks to the door, and he doesn’t turn around one last time when he speaks again. He knows you’re looking at him, he can feel your stare on his back. He knows he won’t have the strength to look at you like that…

“Goodbye, darling.”

Before you can reply, he’s opened the door, walked out, and disappeared.

[where-the-wind-travels]

Darlene x Giselle: Pre Relationship 7, General 1, Love 1, Domestic Life 2

thank you so much for the ask <33

7. How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

Pretty much as soon as Darlene's family found out about her friendship with Giselle and how it came to be, they've been shipping the two of them a lot. The embarrassing part isn't even Darlene trying to deny that they like Giselle (which they don't do and couldn't even if they wanted to), but them constantly trying to convince themself that "she sees me as just a friend, I'm just helping her figure herself out, what if she just wants a friend and doesn't actually see me in that way?"

Bridget and Glen have also always suspected there might be something going on between their daughter and Darlene, although they preferred to brush it all off in the hopes they might be wrong. Giselle herself did too after she officially came out to her parents, as while they were supportive, she thought they were still a little behind and wanted her to date men now that she's a woman... which shocked her a lot when they went in with the "so what exactly is up between you and the pretty blonde?" question with the genuine intention of being more open with their daughter.

As for their friends, everyone expected Darlene to either get with Maria or be that friend that's surprisingly good at giving relationship advice for a single girl, but once she got with Giselle they were all like "why didn't I think of that happening, they make so much sense together".

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

See below for details about how it happens, but as to when it happens, it's during the winter formal, same time as HSS MC and LI (well, not actually the same time, it's actually a bit earlier - and besides they didn't really want to hog all the attention since they both knew what was going to happen with Dylan and Caleb). Seeing Gi so happy and beautiful and confident in herself just awakened something in Darlene that immediately told her "I want this girl to be my girlfriend".

1. Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

Darlene and Giselle are a very "friends and lovers" type couple rather than just "friends to lovers", so they actually went in with their first "I love you" right before getting into an official relationship. Darlene said it first, and while Giselle was a bit surprised by it (especially since they're very much not a slow burn, they've kissed and shown a lot of physical affection prior to this), she caught on to it and said it back, since romantic feelings don't mean this person can't be your ride or die friend you love and can always count on. "We've already got one type of love figured out, now we have the rest of our time together to figure out the other" - a line I definitely want to include in there if I ever actually get to writing their confession.

In case that's cheating, their first romantic "I love you" was said by Giselle during summer break (yeah, later than actual HSS MC and their LI can say it for the first time, I know). I'm imagining it as something similar to what happens with Lily in BB book 3 chapter 11(?) ("Wait... like the you're my best friend type of love, or...?" "Like the I love you type of love.") Still figuring out the exact scenario for this one, oops.

2. If they get married, who proposes, and how would they do it? Would they change their surnames?

I don't have that many details about how the proposal goes, more so how Darlene wanted it to go. I'm definitely thinking Giselle is the one to propose to Darlene sometime during their junior year of college (and it's a fairly small/spontaneous thing, maybe while they're at their home or on a casual date), and it throws them so off guard because they wanted to be the one to propose to Giselle and they wanted to spoil her about it harder than she's ever been spoiled. I'm talking full on Kaitlyn - Perfect Date type day, except more upscale: wake Gi up with breakfast in bed and surprise her with a trip to the big city (because no, they haven't moved there yet), take her out shopping and later to an amusement park, then to dinner at a fancy restaurant, and finish the night with the actual proposal (and something more) at the honeymoon themed apartment she'd rented for them both. And she's so conflicted because of course she wants to marry Gi, but now her plans are ruined... except not quite, since they do eventually celebrate their engagement just like that.

They nearly immediately decided they'd both hyphenate their surnames and both become Mrs. Murphy-Zhou (although Giselle has no problem going by Ms. if two of the same title is too confusing).

[ofmdsalt]

Do you think the fandom will come back, even somewhat, over time? You mentioned taking a break and coming back and while I personally don't think I will nor will other fans who have been harassed and hurt, maybe new people discovering the show in a couple of years will have a different/healthier take on fandom. Basically do you think time will fill the canyon and/or future fans will be able to make this fandom into something less toxic? Or the writing of S2 especially was egregious enough so the legacy of the show is basically fucked and never stood a chance?

hey anon! i'm sorry to hear about your experience within the fandom. it sucks that a place that is supposed to be fund and creative can turn into such a high school cafeteria, complete with all the bullying and clique behaviour.

i cannot speak for everyone's experience within this fandom, those who remain and continue to seek ways to curate a space for themselves and those who had to leave because it was no longer a positive space for them to be in.

i think it's unfortunate that such a positive show has to happen in one of the most turbulent and unsustainable eras of television. streaming culture and binge watching ruin the longevity of TV shows, and modern fan culture is too obsessed with consumption. OFMD came out during a time when a lot of things are in flux

new people joining the fandom will certainly bring new perspectives and have less baggage than the current bunch of fans, and i honestly wish the best to those who join to create new things.

the idea of the Canyon has done irreparable damage and harm to this fandom. it's become a convenient scapegoat, a label to slap someone with that you don't agree with.

didn't get into a zine? well one of the mods is a Canyonite.

someone writes Izzy as sympathetic or neutral in a Gentlebeard fic? well the writer is clearly a Canyonite.

in these instances, it becomes a conspiracy. it becomes a valid excuse to very weird about someone online. and this goes for both sides of this conflict: Gentlebeardies and the Canyon. i just think it's more weighted against the Canyon because, well, their ship won despite the fact that there was never any contest because it was always assured that Ed&Stede would come out on top. the fact that other people complain about other ships like Stizzy, Edizzy, and Steddyhands (always about these three which really tells you what this group is more focused on)

my final thoughts on this is that both sides have created their own block lists, but the Gentlebeardies side is less willing to admit that they are in their own canyon. the only way to really end this is to stop talking negatively about Izzy. stop doing ship war shit. there is so much more joy people get out of fandom if they curate it into a positive, uplifting experience rather than falling into this clique high school behaviour

as for people's reactions to s2, i think what will happen is something similar to BBC Sherlock s4. that season was written poorly and as fans came back to reflect on their experience with the show to realize it had always been written poorly. s1 of OFMD is still solid TV and there are parts of s2 that are good, and fans will do what they have always done. take the parts that are good and build off of them, take the parts that are bad and transform them into something good. or continue to engage in AUs and make something new. that is the positive transformative experience of fandom. but with the uncertain future OFMD, if it will ever get picked up for something new, means that some fans will look back on it and realize that s2 was a let down.

the legacy of OFMD has already made its mark, but the toxicity and the entire Save OFMD campaign will leave a bitter, sour taste in some fans mouths, and that will be part of the fandom's legacy until the bitter end. the abandoned fics with final chapters that layout harassment people faced and why they can no longer continue.

i don't blame the fans who've left. i only wish it could've been on their terms rather than feeling like they were forced out

[intrepidacious]

time after time: reread edition [2]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, the angst continues, another reminder to read the fic premise; a couple of guest appearances; flashbacks are my establishing shots and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

read the full chapter here | series masterlist | reread masterlist

welcome back everyone!! just a reminder that this is a reread of already published chapters, so if you’re new to this story, maybe don't start here. it probably won't make a lot of sense. please be aware that by clicking the read more you’re gonna see spoilers for chapters one and two 💚

twice upon a time – tl;dr:

in the flashback, set sometime during the blip, we see twelve meeting natasha and steve and offer her abilities to the avengers. after a short demonstration of her powers and (non-existant) combat abilities, she’s taken on as a new recruit. twelve accidentally breaks her own nose during training and reveals that her time powers don’t include the ability to heal herself, as she stays the same when going back in time.

in the loop, twelve panics but tries to get through the day again. she attempts to nap on the living room couch, but gets disturbed by alpine and bucky. she settles down on her bedroom floor, but gets yanked to the astral plane and berated over her creation of a time loop by stephen strange. during their third mission, bucky lightly hits his head when getting hit by the explosion and ends up getting shot again when twelve overcompensates for past mission mistakes. she tries talking to sam about the loop, but gets shut down. alpine follows her over to the other couch, making a nap once again impossible; the movie bucky turns on is eerily fitting for their situation. all the way through the chapter, bucky keeps asking her what’s wrong, but she evades his question.

behind the loop

finally!! our first chapter with flashback brackets!!! i’ve really been loving the structure of these because they allow me to give a little more context and background on the characters gradually instead of a long info dump as well as just lighten the mood a little. also, i just love writing nat and steve!! god, i miss them so much.

“And why would we want to have you?” she asked. As if she were interviewing you for a job. Which, technically speaking, she was.

there’s a lot of fun tidbits in this part of the chapter, but i love this one in particular. her nonchalance when meeting this powerful, terrified stranger is just so charming to me.

“Oh, great, am I volunteering?”

steve is … god, steve. sometimes the fact that this fic is canon-compliant (for the most part) absolutely kills me. that’s something i’ve had to wrestle with in every single flashback, and it’s just never getting easier.

back to the loop!! i didn’t talk about the mcfly thing last chapter and that’s mostly because i actually haven’t seen back to the future in many, many years. i do love them, though, and i feel like they’re something sam would enjoy, too. i constantly want to give him more to do in this story but instead i keep sending him off on cap duties. sigh. we love a responsible man.

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

the most unsubtle nod to brooklyn nine-nine ever, but i’d completely forgotten i put it there and i love it. that makes it at least two references to this show over all of my fics now, and i’m probably forgetting something!!

“Did you just kick me?” “I wanted to see if you’re still alive.” “Horrible. I’m quitting. You can go spar with Bucky again.”

what can i say? i love their slightly different banter each and every time. it’s so funny because twelve still hesitates to call sam and bucky her friends in her inner monologue but at the same time—look at them. i love unreliable narration.

also, this is the chapter where i really start leaving gaps to fill in the rest of the day later. it’s just fun to keep some thing that are going to be repeating anyway open for now!! that brings us reveals as glorious as alpine, who couldn’t even feature in the first chapter even though i love her more than life itself. also, i have no idea where i got the headcanon that sam’s allergic to cats, but it’s simply a fact to me.

“What time is it, anyway?” “Thirteen twelve hours.” “Please stop just saying numbers when I ask you that.”

is this me making a dig at military time or the fact that it’s not used in the u.s.? who’s to say. also a fun little twelve reference before the nickname actually gets used in chapter!!

“Last dates played. Friday, July 4th 2025, 07:50 a.m. Playtime: forty-five seconds. Thursday, March 13th 2014, 02:49 a.m. Playtime: one hour, twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. End of record.”

i was so proud of this little inconsequential easter egg at the time!! that date is the day of the winter soldier movie premiere, and i’m pretty sure the amount of times the song got played was the same as the amount of mcu movies that were out at the time the chapter got posted. this is an actually fun fun fact for a change <3

ooh, the astral plane and strange. i’m not gonna lie, i’m pretty sure i’m writing his character a little more sherlock holmesian than he is in canon, but sue me. both are smart assholes in their own rights, and it’s fun to have him and twelve snark at each other. they both just hate every second of being in each other’s vicinity, and i find that hilarious.

Third time’s the charm, right? About as charming as a kick to the face, you think as you find yourself delivering just that.

you know, sometimes "writing for yourself" just means line connectors that will make yourself snicker. and i think that’s beautiful.

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

ugh, i love this scene!! i love that no matter how hard she tries, other people (and bucky in particular) will just do things she doesn’t expect, and for reasons that are certainly what i’m telling you within the inner monologue. mhm. surely. (i know i said spoiler-free but i’m giddy. also you’re reading bucky fanfic. you must know.)

trying to tell sam about the loop and him not really taking it seriously here was certainly a choice. i’m not sure i love this when thinking about his character, but it had to happen this way for plot reasons. to be fair to him, he’s hungry and stressed, and the people around him are all weird (affectionate). give him a break fr.

“I just run cold.” “That you do.”

i’m obsessed with them, have i mentioned that? also, fun fact about spellbound, i’m never again mentioning movies i haven’t actually watched within a story again because i did end up watching it and one of the character’s initials were straight up JBB. i wish i could make this up. maybe i’m the one who’s stuck in a time loop. anyway. love alpine, love bucky knowing something’s up but not what it is.

“Don’t be dramatic. She’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

did you catch that one?

You’re made of stronger stuff than your doubts, you know that. (ch 1)

have i mention that i pay attention to a lot of little details? because yeah. i do.

the reveal that twelve stays the same during her redos is probably one of the more essential ones!! i mostly wanted to include this because i haven’t really seen any other time loop stories do it (unless i’m forgetting something) and also because, well, drama is fun.

how it’s going

alas, chapter seven isn’t quite done yet. i’ve written around 2.5k for it, i think, but i find myself once again taking unexpected detours. it’s fine, though. the bonus chapter is mostly done, and it’s actually pretty short for a change. (because spoiler alert, chapters are only gonna get longer from this point. somebody sedate me.)

as you’ve probably seen in my schedule, next week is gonna be an off week for me!!! please manifest me meeting sam wilson in the parks as i will be on holiday this time next friday. which is a much more fun thing to do than getting stuck in a time loop. in the meantime, take care of yourselves and don’t do anything dumb while i’m gone (like getting stuck in a time loop). also please leave a comment on the chapter if you enjoyed it, come scream at me in my inbox etc etc 💚

[fastcardotmp3]

For the ask game!!

62 - Thoughts on cliffhangers?

76 - Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of Metamorphoses? 

ooh!! love these thank you anon <3

✨fic asks✨

62. Thoughts on cliffhangers?

I think from a fic writing perspective and the sort of inherent episodic nature of watching a story get written in real time, there is something particularly fun about a cliffhanger. As a reader you get to meltdown about it to the actual writer's face??? hell yeah?? and as an author you get to talk to real actual people anxious for closure while you're still actively writing the closure??? it's so DELICIOUS. And from a more general storytelling perspective, I really do think it's just like any other narrative device, right? Like any trope you use can be used to both your advantage and your disadvantage as a writer, and half the battle is being able to tell which direction it'll go. I love a well-timed cliff-hanger mid-series, something that makes me really think about where the story is going and what all the different outcomes might mean for my favorite characters, but there are also instances where it just doesn't work. Like I've talked about Hopper's non-death before, but that button where we find out he's alive but not where or how? That's a cliffhanger. And it's a bad one. Because in a case like that the closure of Hopper's death was more deeply impactful than some vague "oooh he's still alive hehehe" could ever be. The closure is thought provoking about character and plot and where do we go from here whereas the cliffhanger is just sort of. anti-climactic. makes everything we just went through feel pointless. you know? The short answer could have been "it depends" here but when have I ever shut up in my life....

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of Metamorphoses? 

Oh, for sure! I can't remember everything I ended up passing on but I can give you a couple! One was that I wanted to go more in-depth about the people Kas actually killed. I had a whole plotline in my head about how during the time he was in the UD before the Final Battle, the Feds sent down soldiers to get eyes on the place and it was Kas's job to take them out, thus forcing Eddie to have actual, literal life blood on his hands. Forcing him to know what it feels like to break a human person's neck or rip out his jugular or whatever. I ultimately scrapped it and left it vague because I simply didn't have time within the story to give him one more thing to cope with, but I think maybe it's a story/ universe all its own worth exploring one day. And the second is that I wanted to write a single chapter from Steve's POV, right after Eddie turns himself in to Owens and disappears. I wanted to see the fallout from the other side, the questions about whether Eddie was dead or captured or hurt etc etc. Giving El's comment about "Steve yells now" a proper standing in the story and stuff, you know? The more I thought about it though the more it fucked with the pacing and would've kept us in the Lab for too many consecutive chapters, but I still think about writing it as a standalone sometimes if that would be something anyone would want!

[ghostofscarley]

hello everyone.. alas i am bored and instead of finishing my prepls or school work (aha procrastination), i saw an author write out their entire playlist that fit with their fic and gave mini explanations as to why they paired each song.. so i would like to present, ahem

GHOSTOFSCARLEY's REASONS FOR THE SONGS OF HER PLAYLIST; RWTS

now ofc, all credit isnt mine.. my lover @emso12 wrote 'Rewrite The Stars' and ive been in love with it for just over a year, id say, now, however i made the playlist not too long ago, which consist songs that just made sense following the storyline of this fic.. now, whilst a good lot of the songs cannot simply be explained, i removed them for the sake of this post and so if i remember them, ill add them again.. that being said, it still left a good 6 hours left of songs so we're in for a ride..

fair warning; quite a lot of songs, therefore this is basically a rant.. a hefty one.. read at own risk (the risk being pure boredom unless this somewhat interests you like it interested me) spoilers too for those who are yet to read RWTS

lets get started !!!

Rewrite The Stars - Zac Efron, Zendaya

obviously, as the name of the book itself, and a running metaphor throughout as the chapters as the book progressed, it only made sense. the song focuses on the differences between y/n and adrian and how they overcome those differences as they grow older and mature and write their own story; their love story

Wanna Know - Sabrina Claudio

my perception of this song is that a couple is within the stage in which they're now sharing the 'l' word. obviously this is a big commitment and sometimes one can wonder whether their significant other truly means it. this can be set when adrian first says it to y/n or when they're broken up (temporarily). if they were so hurt from the actions of the other, were they truly in love?

I Don't - Sabrina Claudio

now this song is moreso focused on the lovely miss emilia morales and well.. the dick-ish miles bletchley. this song focuses on a toxic relationship. similarly, no matter how much miles seemed to hurt our girl, because of her love for him, all of those reasons meant nothing, she was so in love with him that she could not bring herself to leave him. she knew that he meant well and would better himself

Frozen - Sabrina Claudio

now again this song can be set when y/n and adrian are younger and are just lounging during a break or a weekend at hogwarts in a common room OR when they have moved in together. this was chosen to show how no matter what, they always knew the other would be the ONE for them, they would love each other no matter what.

Orion's Belt - Sabrina Claudio

so, talking about a constellation and relating it to freckles? i immediately thought of adrian and how his upbringing (as well as his kids names) being somewhat related to space. this song is also about familiarising the feeling of love and romantic warmth together. they create a safe space that was to only be shared between them.

We Have Time - Sabrina Claudio

not too far into their relationship, or maybe even before it became official, adrian has said that he did not want to rush things; i mean this was his first serious relationship. so this song represents how they slowed the pace and took their time to really get to know and inevitably fall in love with each other. through this, it evolved into a loving relationship in which they both gained a significant other and best friend, and it did not feel forced.

Natural - Sabrina Claudio

this song focuses in on the development of a crush that they held on each other and how quick it was to happen. having both been in relationships, it felt new when they started falling for each other, because it was real. not just physical or shy and awkward, but tender and warm and with a friendship already developed, it meant they already knew each other to some degree. and they both continued to fall harder for the other.

Best of the Kind - Jereena Montemayor

now when people say that their significant other is their 'other half', it cannot be portrayed better than in this song. its vaguely implicated. with adrian, y/n felt like a better version of herself. no matter what issues or problems they went through, they knew they would get through it together. they truly were each others better half; they completed each other and it would be hard to imagine one without the other.

Close As Strangers - 5 Seconds of Summer

this takes place during the break up as well. of course the lyrics insinuate that they would still be together, but for the sake of this fic, not quite. it still, however conveys the pain that they felt. in fact, when it comes to lyrics like ' late night calls and another text', this could be happy memories of letters sent between the two when they were still together. but then it says 'but you know that i'll always wait for you', so despite being apart and even somewhat seeing other people, they still hold an amount of love for the other. they could never truly let the other go

Moving Along - 5 Seconds of Summer

whilst y/n showed signs of having moved on (and actually being interested in joseph), it was clear that whatever adrian did with pansy was to streak a sense of jealousy through y/n, yet it was clear he was never truly into pansy, just needed a distraction from the pain. that he had unwillingly caused. adrian tried hard to get through to her, it was never his intentions to hurt her, but for the moment, it was clear that the issue was beyond repair. oh and y/n specifically said 'i know youll find someone else who you can love'.

Lie To Me - 5 Seconds of Summer

this can be set anytime adrian sees y/n with joseph, perhaps when they are together near the black lake or just outside of the gryffindor quidditch tent. seeing her happy after the downfall of the 'it' couple of hogwarts, it was clear that she had moved on (though it was otherwise). at this point, the supposedly new couple is moreso a rebound from the pain that was mistakenly thrown onto y/n

She Looks So Perfect - 5 Seconds of Summer

a more happy song with a happier interpretation. often people find this song silly due to the lyrics. but personally, i find this song quite sweet. no matter what, she would always look perfect in his eyes. i relate this song specifically to the scene in which y/n gave birth to baby z, with fly away hairs, sweat dripping down her forehead and the softest smile as she held the first born pucey against her chest, adrian had never thought that she had looked more perfect then in that moment. the yule ball look was quaking.

Wherever You Are - 5 Seconds of Summer

and we are back to the breakup. though they were separated, in this case romantically and physically, though y/n was in a committed relationship that, though controlling, was respected, it meant that boundaries were created and thus the closeness between her and her friends severed more. so through this song, it insinuates no matter where she may be, near or far, though they may no longer be together, she will always be a lingering thought of adrian's.

Not In The Same Way - 5 Seconds of Summer

ooh a bit spicy. well this takes place during (i was gonna say the first) both trips to france, where, fun times in the sheets happen between miss y/l/n and mr pucey. suck on that joseph. obviously this does not fix what was lost, but they allow themselves to embrace each other as if it is to be their last. they still feel the same love that remains from their past relationship, however the pain of the 'affair' is what holds y/n back.

Want You Back - 5 Seconds of Summer

think this is pretty self explanatory, however, this is set closer to the breakup. obviously in this stage, adrian is still working hard to get his girl back (despite still being seen with pugface), however as time progresses, its not that he stops trying, but rather, that he believes she would be happier with someone else. so he lays off, seeing as his past efforts were rather futile.

Better Man - 5 Seconds of Summer

now this relates moreso to his years before he met y/n. he was, to use emilias words, a man whore. obviously as he indulges in her and starts his first serious relationship, it is shown to his friends just how much y/n changed him. for the better. she had really tamed him

Disconnected - 5 Seconds of Summer

they were officially in love and in love with the idea of losing themselves in each other. they had truly found their safe place. their happy place. the soft and happy yet upbeat song perfectly defines the 'love' stage of y/n and adrian in my opinion. they were completely enamoured with every little thing the other did, and quite literally felt themselves disconnect from the world that surround them as they only needed each other.

Lover Of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer

this is set just after the battle, when adrian finally gets his girl back. maybe even a little after. he finally reflects on the mistakes that his younger self made, how idiotic he was, and how he would only need y/n, for all that she would take of him. he would continue to better himself and vow to never make those mistakes again for he could not bare to lose her. she was it for him. and he was to make sure that she knew that.

Story Of Another Us - 5 Seconds of Summer

sad again. this is set during the breakup. maybe just after pansy has slapped adrian and y/n is officially with joseph. despite the upbeat tone and quick tempo, the lyrics hold a sombre mood and saddening message, yet so beautiful. every happy memory with y/n is like a movie. and adrian can only hope can he can start a new story with his love. though for the moment, it would have to be but a wish.

Ghost Of You - 5 Seconds of Summer

as they drift further apart, the memory of each other becomes like that of a ghost. the side that the other may have once occupied, the indent of what once was a familiar body begins to flatten out. the familiar music that may have echoed in the room, is now only danced to by a single person rather than a pair. and the company of a past lover is replaced with someone who could never be the other. 'that my feet don't dance like they did with you'.

Best Years - 5 Seconds of Summer

similar to my fic, this song is set just after the battle when our lovers reconcile. adrian promises that shes it for him (though we all knew that already), that he wouldn't make that mistake again, that there was no one else he'd rather, even if she didn't want him anymore. spoiler; she still wanted him.

If You Love Her - Forest Blakk

when adrian had come to terms with y/n and joseph being a thing (understanding that she had cut contact to respect her relationship), i pictured this song. i pictured adrian telling joseph to look after y/n and more importantly, her heart. to never hurt her. i pictured this thru an unsent letter where he then went on to rant abt the small yet simple things she loved, because to him that's when his love for her grew, watching her eyes glow as she did the things she loved. 'shes the best thing that you'll ever have. she'll love you if you love her'.

Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

when i think of the moments where y/n and adrian sit together out by the black lake near their initial-carved tree, i think of this song. i think of the more intimate yet non-sexual moments, the ones of just pure love and admiration that they share between them. and i think of the desperate whispers shared as they lie in bed together, drowning everything else out

Till The End - Jessie Ware

this one is pretty self explanatory and similar to my own fic of the song. it is set around both the end of the war, their makeup and when they get married. it's a promise to be each other's 'other half', till the end of time

Can't Help Falling In Love - Kina Grannis

obviously this song is a classic love song by the king, elvis presley, however i chose this version as even tho the story is set in the 1980s-1990s, the softness of Kina's voice (and the fact that it was used during the wedding in Crazy, Rich Asian' just made sense to me), it just seemed right to incorporate it with the wedding between y/n and adrian

[snakedevour]

new kakegurui chapter released today and as i am like to do... i've got a couple thoughts. i dunno if this'll constitute a full deep-dive but (finger guns) another month another dump of my thoughts on kakegurui chapter 99.

spoilers galore for the kkg manga as always

i recommend referencing my deep dive on chapters 96 and 97 for some supplemental context but i'll probably be recycling a few panels from it. a lot of things are still/are even more relevant so like. yeah

the first major bullet point for chapter 99 is that souko's appearance is Somewhat consistent with her formerly anime-only appearance from rei's flashbacks

and by that i mean... she wore a kimono and had her hair in that updo whenever she was at the momobami mansion. the design isn't 100% but the jist is more or less the same. ideally this means that while kkgxx had some anime-only contrivances in it, homura isn't writing the manga in a way that contradicts it. with that in mind, there's a standout detail from kkgxx:

rei was present during souko's breakdown. where was rei when this happened? the momobami main house. souko, as of this chapter, is about to gamble vs her aunt tsugiko... at the momobami main house. these particular stars are aligning despite the schrodinger's canon of rei's backstory.

should we suppose that this stays consistent, we know this gamble is going to go one of two ways:

souko loses

souko wins, but something else goes awry

the gamble itself is for the title of the jabami family head, but furthermore operates on the conditions of

if souko wins, tsugiko is ousted from the family

if tsugiko wins, she adopts yumeko as her daughter and heir

considering what we know in hindsight and putting that together with these conditions, we'll probably see souko's breakdown by the conclusion of this game and moreover and at the same time, it's probably most likely that souko will win. this is a reasonable guess because sayaka ran that background check on yumeko waaayyy back in chapter 10:

just like i did in my summaries for 97 and 98, i'm going to re-highlight "yumeko jabami currently lives alone" and "her only other family is her sister"

the reality is that aunt tsugiko is not in the picture. as possible as it is that souko loses (which would facilitate some manner of breakdown, which we know will happen somehow) and then something else happens to tsugiko between that and the main plot, that feels a little contrived when this whole game has been set up. iunno.

the other thing is that we have terano's line about "kirari killing jabami"

we already know that to be "killed" in the momobami family means to lose your personhood and to lose your seat in the clan. this can still refer to something with souko we just haven't seen yet, but it's worth remembering that this was the condition in the event of tsugiko's loss.

the problem is that... if souko wins, something else causes her breakdown. if she loses, we know that her breaking point is probably losing guardianship of yumeko.

on the other hand, her winning still leaves that circumstance a mystery unless her aunt were to go on to do something unhinged after losing. though admittedly, tsugiko doesn't seem to be above going off the deep end:

i will say though that tsugiko doesn't outright answer souko's question here... it's more like she doesn't deny it and that leaves room for elaboration later... that this is a red herring i think is in the realm of possibility. the jabami parents' death either has something to do with tsugiko or kabura (who's definitely up to something) -- they're the only new characters of note introduced in this flashback and that's how storytelling works.

my tentative prediction is that souko "wins the battle but loses the war" so to speak. i think she'll beat her aunt in the gamble because tsugiko is just Not There in the main story, implying she's been ousted, but something else is bound to go wrong. maybe tsugiko gets real ugly upon losing, who knows. if absolutely nothing else, we know from her interaction with kabura last chapter that there's Something Else going on with her.

we also have to remember that yumeko thinks of souko when manyuda asks her if she feels remorse for "the people whose lives she's ruined" but now for all we know that could refer to souko playing this game for her sake, so...there's definitely stuff that's yet to be revealed. too bad we gotta wait another month 🤨

[bvannn]

Weekly Update April 12, 2024

This week was awful. I’ve been bogged down with homework, surgery sickness briefly returned, my congenial illness was flaring up the worst I’ve seen in since my 2022 surgery, and to top it all off I still have 3 lab reports and a paper and presentation to do this weekend. It’s fine but it does mean I am a bit limited with my art stuff. I’m still doing what I can though.

Comic progress: page 1 is completely done, page 2 needs some backgrounds and lettering and it’s good to go. I probably could do those tonight and maybe if my mood improves I will but for now I’m taking it slowly. The third page will probably also be pretty quick, as from what I remember it didn’t have a lot of panels. Progress is going as fast as I can handle with my situation. I’d like to think it’ll pick up once I graduate but I’m anticipating I’ll need a break. When I graduated high school I slept for 25 hours straight (unless my clocks were wrong or I misinterpreted, which is possible), I anticipate doing the same again for Uni. After that I’m hoping I’ll pick up the pace.

Animation: my limited time has put the animation in a weird spot because I don’t have enough time to draw storyboards, but I have had time in waiting rooms and waiting for things to cook in lab, and I’ve been writing out a plan for what shots I want where and when, so I’m still making progress. I just need there to be a span of time where I have the free time and my body is in a state where I can draw well enough for the storyboards. Admittedly I’m really bad at storyboards and everything gets cleaned up with animation after, but I haven’t decided yet if there’s enough shots with the type of movement to justify making a puppet rig. I anticipate one for a profile view but am unsure if it needs to be a complete rig or if I’ll need the other angles. Again I’m not as worried about it right now, since that’ll be dictated by the storyboards.

Other songs: In addition to the cover I’m sitting on right now I’m also close to done with another, plus almost done with that instrumental medley. Also got more lyric work done for the two originals I’ve been sitting on. Last night I tried some piano to try to relax, and to practice melody writing. On a good night I can write a single melody line in 20 minutes, which I think is pretty good, and now I have a couple more I’m sitting on, which I’ll likely turn into OC themes, but only after everything else is finished. I’ll try to time myself on the rest of the music making process so I can be more consistent, but again I’m waiting on free time.

The other thing I did this week was writing. A bit of OC story writing, and a bit of TTRPG writing. I’m still a little stuck with the third chapter but I got through the worst of it, just need to come up with some thematic encounters and on to chapters 4 and 5. I’ve been back on a low level of epithet erased Brainrot since I’m finally trying to read Prison of Plastic, so I’m hoping I can channel that into writing, but it’s mostly been theorycrafting about the future of the OG series. The more I think about it the more sure I am that Sylvie is going to join Bliss Ocean and be a villain. Anyway I’m writing that campaign, good chance it’s a ways off yet but it’ll presumably be done during a time where I have more free time anyway, so I’ll just write it up proper then. Other writing thing I’d want to put more effort into would be a pitch comic for my secondary OC story since people really seem to be interested in those characters, but outlining the overall story will come naturally and from there I’ll find the most natural starting point. I’m not thinking too hard, I’m very bad at thinking.

Next week my objective is going to be to survive. My body is having a lot of problems and schoolwork is piling up (two events that are probably related but it’s fine that means they’ll go away around the same time) and anything else I can do will be comic, finish second cover song, and storyboards, in that order of priority, while lower effort projects will be storyboard planning, lyric writing, and story/TTRPG writing, in that order of priority. I’ll still try to have enough small drawings to post but looks like you guys are getting tired of those so I’ll try to space them out a bit better. Thank you for being so patient, I promise it’ll be three more weeks most of this slump before I pick up and really get working again!

[zepskies]

First of all, thank you so much for all this lovely amazing feedback! 😍 Diving right in:

Ngl, I got a little worried there for a moment that Beau just might leave Helena and move to Houston.

Oh yes, that's the main conflict of this whole chapter.

He doesn't want to break her heart, obviously, but he just might. But she can't even blame him. He moved to Montana because of his daughter and now after everything, she really needs her dad. He can't just abandon her. Poor Beau, he's really in a dilemma, life pulling him in two different directions, as if he hasn't been through enough.

That's exactly it. Emily still needs her father, now more than ever. And the reader knows that, which is why, as upset as she is, she doesn't want to guilt trip him or try to force his hand in any way. They both have been through too much, and this yet another hurdle to cross.

Alsooo, we finally got the podcast!!! I loved their bickering and banter. And ofc she noticed his eyes, how can anyone not miss them. Those green orbs that will pull you in and drown you in their depths and you can't help but let them be your ruination because they are just so beautiful.

You mean these eyes?

(Yes, I'm sure this is doctored with Photoshop, but still. 💚💚)

And I'm so glad you liked the podcast!! Super fun scene to put together lol.

Why did these words sound so mean? Like Carla was trying to put her down or something. Carla really has no right on him anymore. She left him when he was in his lowest, not just left him, but moved hundreds of miles away with his daughter. Now she wants to do that again. Carla is a runner, she is a runner from he problems.

It is mean, whether Carla intended it or not. She's being defensive here for sure, seeing the reader as someone trying to tell her how to raise her daughter (which she's not trying to). Carla ultimately realizes that, but in the heat of the moment she got a bit snappish. I too hold the headcanon that she gave up on Beau. I tried to hint it in previous chapters, but she does regret it and is wrestling with the fact that it's too late.

But Carla does show progress, doesn't she? 😅 She decided to give her daughter the choice, rather than make a decision based on her own desires to escape Helena.

Awwwwww. They are FINALLY going on their date. And ofc Beau didn't give her any time to get ready or prepare. I'm so happy that they are together, that he will stay, thanks to Emily for wanting to stay in Helena.

Finally, right?! loll He quite literally swept her off her feet. 😂

Beau can finally have a good relationship where he is understood, his partner has shown him patience, has been there to let him open up his feelings and thoughts. I really like their dynamic. They are quite opposites, but they are like the perfect jigsaw pieces when put together. They compliment each other perfectly. They will be good for the other.

Thank you for pointing this out! 💕💕 They are opposites in a way, but they have enough common values to make up for their differences and how those compliment one another, and help each other grow.

I enjoyed this fic immensely. Thank you so much for gifting us with your works, they are always pleasure to read. I hope you will continue with the Beau fics and maybe expand the universe just like how you've done with Ben.

I'm so very glad to hear that, thank you!! It's my pleasure to keep writing stories you guys will hopefully enjoy. I've had this one in particular outlined for a long time, I just hadn't had the chance to sit down and write it until a couple of months ago. But I'm so happy you and others have enjoyed it!!

@twinkleinadiamondsky I don't know if you saw in my end note, but there are actually a couple more stories in the TMH-verse...

Bonus One-Shots:

A Good Man Is Hard to Find When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

A Crime of Passion When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

And I'll be very happy if you tag me in your future fics.

I have you on my TMH tag list, but would you like to add yourself to my character tag lists? Check out my easy Tag List form here!

It's also linked in my bio.~

This is officially one of my most favorite fics, and I can't wait to restart it from the beginning.

😍😍 I love to hear this, thank you so much!! 💗

Take Me Home - Part 9

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: We’ve made it, friends. 🥹 But stay tuned, I have a special announcement after the end of this chapter.~

Word Count: 4.1K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 9: A Choice to Make

There was a man in your bed.

You were pleased to discover that, although your kidnapping of two days ago hadn’t been a dream, being held warm and secure in someone’s arms this morning wasn’t either.

After slowly blinking awake, you looked up from a familiar freckled shoulder to find Beau’s peaceful face. His hair was a floppy mess, his mouth parted in sleep. It made you smile.

His arm was heavy around your waist. It was nice, but you contemplated how you were going to get over to the bathroom and freshen up; maybe fix your hair, brush your teeth, put a little makeup on…

You were careful in how you grasped his hand. You were about to try and peel his arm off without waking him.

“If my alarm hasn’t gone off, means it ain’t morning yet,” Beau rumbled with his eyes still closed.

You stifled a laugh, but you tried again to pull his arm away. He held you to him tighter.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” he asked. His southern drawl was thicker when he was sleepy.

You giggled lightly and rested back against his bare chest in defeat.

“Was gonna try and fix myself up a little, before you saw me in the raw light of day,” you confessed.

You’d caught a glimpse of the yellowing bruise on your cheek last night in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. You weren’t really sure how Beau could see past it.

But at your words, Beau finally cracked his eyes open. He made a show of glancing up and down your body, clad in just your black silk camisole. He couldn’t see the rest of you under the blankets, but what he did see, he liked quite a lot—aside from the parts of you that were still healing.  

“You look just right to me,” he remarked, tugging at a strand of your wild, likely knotted hair. “Damn beautiful too.”

Your smile of amusement grew, along with your blush. 

“Flatterer,” you accused. Though you rolled off his arm, fearing you were cutting off his circulation. You moved onto his chest instead, where he held you by your waist and you rested your head over his steady-beating heart.

“Nope. That’s the truth, darlin’,” he said, with a deep sigh. You didn’t see the way his eyes closed in contentment. He knew he’d have to get back into work today, not to mention check on Emily and Carla. For now though, he could focus on this. On you.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked. It was a mere whisper against his skin, but he heard you just fine. It was a good question.

“Eggs or pancakes?” he posed.

You smiled, but you shoved at his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” you said wryly.

Beau’s resulting deep breath raised you as well. He nodded, brushing your hair back away from your face. You pushed up enough to look up at him.

He gave you a quirking smile.

“I want this to stick,” he admitted. “I wanna take you on a proper date and make it official.”

You smiled back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’re in agreement.”

But you didn’t realize that anything official would take more time than either of you thought. 

Two weeks later, you returned to the precinct with another basket, this one full of snickerdoodle cookies for the whole squad. Poppernak was especially excited when you handed them over to him.

Beau must’ve heard your voice, because he came out of his office to greet you with a broad smile.

“Well, hey there,” he said. You went to him with a smile of your own, but you waited until he’d led you into his office by the small of your back.

Once he shut the door behind him, he pulled you close by the waist and greeted you with a proper kiss. You didn’t even mind the scratch of his beard against your chin. You just caressed his cheek and met him with as much as he gave.

But all too soon, the kiss dimmed to embers, your lips parting softly from his. He thumbed at your cheek.

“To what do I owe this little visit?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” you said. He sat on the edge of his desk, and you followed him, standing between his legs. His hand stayed comfortable on your hip. You toyed with the top button near his collar.

“Fall semester is starting up in a couple of weeks. I don’t have too much of the summer left,” you said. “I’m trying to be ready but…I don’t know.”

You were a bit nervous about it. After the ordeal of this past month, you’d started seeing a therapist to work through some of that trauma. Sometimes you had nightmares, found it hard to focus on things during the day. You worried that it would affect your work once your classes started up.

Beau knew what that thinly veiled worry in your eyes meant; you’d confided in him after your first therapy session a few days ago. He had been supportive, and even somewhat open to your suggestion that he see a professional himself, for the things he still held deep inside.

“The rocky summer’s almost over,” he encouraged, squeezing your hip. “You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

You thanked him with a smile, though your fingers became more gripping on his shirt.

“There is something else that’s kinda bothering me,” you said.

Beau grabbed your hand and held it. “What’s that?”

You leveled him with a knowing look.

“I’m just curious on what we’re doing exactly,” you said. “Considering you still haven’t asked me out ‘officially official.’”

Beau’s lips pressed together with a guilty sort of smile.

“Okay, yes, I’ve been working on that,” he said. 

You laughed incredulously. “What’s to work on? It’s a simple question. I promise you, I have a simple answer.”

“But it’s not quite that simple,” he said. That made you pause, along with the sobered look on his face. You slipped your hand out of his and crossed your arms.

“What do you mean, Beau?” you asked.

He grasped your arms gently and let out a deep breath.

“Okay. I just talked with Carla last night,” he said.

It wasn’t a great way to kick things off if he wanted to reassure you. He seemed to know that, and so he spoke quickly.

“After everything that’s happened, she’s thinking of selling the house and taking Emily back to Houston,” he said.

Your face fell with shock. You laid a hand on his chest; to steady him or yourself, you didn’t know which.

“Oh wow,” you uttered.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He dragged a hand over his mouth. You had a feeling this news had been keeping him up at night.

But, you had to voice a thought that began to make your stomach churn with unease.

“Are you…would you move back too?” you asked.

Beau met your gaze with a conflicted one of his own.

“Besides the fact that I got a lot of ghosts in Houston, there are important reasons why I should stay. Why I want to stay,” he said. He picked up your hand again and held it with both of his. “But I also want and need to be there for my daughter.”

You nodded, even as tears burned in your eyes. You knew how hard this time was for Emily right now. What she needed was stability. She needed her father.

“I don’t know what to do here,” Beau admitted.

It was hard, but you breathed through your upset and tried to reign in your tears. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand back.

“You know what I want,” you said, “but you need to do what you think is best. Both for Emily, and for yourself.”

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” he said.

You shook your head. “It might not be, but that’s where we are.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, until Beau propped a finger under your chin, guiding your face back up to his. He gave you a kiss that was supposed to be sweet, and comforting.

He only succeeded for the moment.

“Oh God, it’s like I don’t even know you!” you exclaimed. Though you were still laughing.

Beau raised a finger in protest. “Hey, I stand by pineapple on pizza—”

“Alone, Dad. You stand alone,” Emily said. She had a recorder app going on her phone, placed between the three of you in your living room. This marked Episode 1 of her podcast, and already it was going off the rails.

“It ain’t that bad. That’s all I’m saying,” he laughed, holding up placating hands. “Pizza is pizza.”

“Said the human garbage disposal,” you smirked. “Where do you put that one, in your second or third stomach?”

“Nah, the fourth one,” he said, patting said stomach. “It’s got the most room. Very handy at a buffet. Or at Donno’s diner when he puts out the weekly specials.”

You laughed. Beau grinned. Emily made a face of disgust.

“Okay, gross,” she said. “Moving on to the next question.”

“How many you got there anyway?” Beau asked, reaching for the piece of paper she’d printed off with all of these “Questions for Couples.” He’d caught sight of a few spicy ones on there that he’d rather not be asked by his daughter, let alone put on record.

Emily snatched the paper away before he could take it from her.

“Okay, next. What’s the first thing you noticed about each other when you met?” she read off.

You and Beau glanced at each other with curious smiles. That was something neither of you had talked about just yet.

“How about for you?” Emily directed her question at you first. You blinked wider eyes.

“Oh! Um…” you trailed. Beau crossed his arms, adopting a sly, expectant smile. You bit your lip to avoid laughing in embarrassment.

“Okay, well, as you know, we met on that camping trip. If I remember right, I saw him from behind first,” you recalled.

“Liked what you saw, huh?” he teased. You laughed and tried not to blush in embarrassment.

“I noticed how tall he was. I wondered if a mountain man was coming to join us,” you quipped. Beau’s smile kicked up a notch. “But it wasn’t until he turned around, and I saw his handsome face…for me, it was his eyes.”

You were a bit bashful to admit that, but when you looked over at Beau, said handsome face had softened a touch. His hand snuck behind you to settle at the curve of your waist, stroking a thumb along your back.

“And for you, Dad?” Emily asked.

You shot him an expectant look. Beau cleared his throat, looking between his daughter and back to you. Then his smile returned.

“Well, I noticed right off the bat that she was beautiful, of course.”

“Good answer,” Emily nodded, laughing a little. You couldn’t help blushing.

Beau slipped his hand off your waist to come up and brush your cheek instead.

“For me though, it was her smile that did me in,” he said. “She looked up at me, and I uh…yeah. That got me. Was thinking about her for a while after Cassie and I left the camp.”

With that admission, you found yourself melting further. You looked down at your folded hands in your lap, trying to save face, but Beau wouldn’t have it. He took one of your hands in his, brought it up to his lips, and pressed a kiss over your knuckles, making your face warm up further.

Emily watched you both in amusement. She smirked at the next question listed on the page.

“Okay, who pays on dates? Is it Dad every time?” she asked.

Your expression turned dry as you glanced at Beau.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, considering we haven’t been on a real date yet,” you remarked. 

Beau gave a tight smile.

“All right,” he said. “Next question, please.”

A couple of days later, you crossed paths with Carla by chance while you were getting office supplies. She was getting moving boxes. There was a stack of them in her cart.

After exchanging some painful small talk, you heeded a gut instinct that had you offering to buy her lunch. So the two of you went to a café in the same plaza, where you each had a sandwich and fries.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Carla smiled, taking another fry. “You mean can you ask me something uncomfortable?”

You stifled an awkward laugh. She really was a good lawyer.

“Yeah, that,” you said.

“Sure,” she replied.

You stared back at her for a moment, steeling yourself. You both knew what this was about to be. It was a conversation weeks in the making, but it didn’t make it any easier to begin.

You decided to peel off the Band-Aid.

“Do you still love him?” you asked. You knew you didn’t have to specify whom. Carla sighed and set down her iced tea.

“In a way,” she replied. “I’ll always care about Beau, and I want him to be happy, I do. This has all just been…too much.”

“I understand that,” you said.  

Carla hid it well, but there was pain behind her eyes as she looked away. Your heart broke for her a bit. She’d barely been remarried a year before this hellish summer uprooted her entire life.

Now she and her daughter were living in a big empty house that was meant to be for three. Carla had just finished telling you about her plans to sell it, but that also implied that she and Emily were moving.

“Part of this is my fault, I know,” said Carla. “I’m the one who married a man like Avery—”

You gently stopped her with a hand on her wrist. You met her gaze with empathy.

“What he did, and what happened after, that wasn’t your fault,” you said. “I know what it’s like to be with a man who lies.”

It took her a moment, but Carla accepted that with a slow nod. You took your hand back, and once again, you tried to gain your courage to dive into deeper waters.

“I also understand that you have to do what you feel is right for Emily, but…”

Carla met you with a more wry tilt of her head. “Let me guess. You don’t think we should leave Montana?”

Your gaze fell. “I know it’s not really my place to say—”

“And if it was?” she countered.

Your lips pressed together. Well, if she wanted to hear your opinion, then she would have it.

“Look, Carla, I was with Emily through the worst of it,” you said. “I know very well what she’s been through. But another out-of-state move when she’d just started getting acclimated, possibly separating her from her father, is that the right call?”

“You’re assuming Beau would stay. For you?” Carla asked. Her words were pointed. Sharp enough to cut you.

“I won’t lie. I don’t want to lose him…but despite his responsibilities here as Sheriff, I suspect he might leave if you asked him to. If it was for his daughter,” you said. Letting out a breath, you looked down at your folded hands on the table. “I love Emily. I want him to do what’s right for her. But selfishly, I want him to take care of himself too.”

Carla considered that, and you, with a nod.

The two of you continued sipping your iced teas for a while in silence.

When you asked for the check, the server informed you that Carla had already paid for it.

The woman gave you a parting smile before she left. You weren’t sure if she’d done it to treat you, or just to win.

That same night, Carla invited Beau over for dinner with her and Emily. It was pizza Friday, like they used to do as a family.

It was familiar, but different now.

They all were different.

Carla asked them to join her in the living room afterwards, with Emily sitting in a lounge chair while her parents sat on the couch. Beau wasn’t sure what Carla was up to, but he was going along with it.

She took in a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap, and focused on her daughter.

“Em, I need to ask you something.”

The girl looked confused, and a little apprehensive at this point.

“O-kay…”

“I know this past month has been…hard for all of us,” said Carla. “Especially for you, sweetheart.”

She took Emily’s hand.

“You know I think it’s best that we go back to Houston,” said Carla. Emily dimmed at that, and her mother could see it. It pained Carla inside to come to a realization…

“But, I think maybe I made that decision for me, not for you,” she said. She had to blink back the sting of tears. “So, what I’m asking is, do you want to go…or do you want to stay here in Montana?”

Beau glanced over at his ex-wife in surprise. He’d never known Carla to change her mind on anything. But now, now he had hope.

He tried not to show any of that to his daughter though. This was up to her now, and he would support whatever she said next.

“R-Really? I get to choose?” Emily asked. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she looked between her parents. 

Carla nodded, attempting a smile through her own tears. “Yes. I, and I’m sure your father, want to do what’s best for you here. What do you want to do?”

Emily considered the question. Yeah, she missed her friends back at school in Houston. They still texted and kept in touch through social media all the time, but she knew it wasn’t the same.

She hadn’t been happy about moving to Montana at first…but after meeting Cassie and Denise, helping them with their cases—it made Emily feel like she was doing work that mattered. That something she did really, truly mattered, and would help people. That was a cool feeling.

Also, she’d met you. She’d begun to find a kind of older sister in you. Someone who encouraged her projects and her creative side without thinking it was too weird, or too annoying. And of course, she could see what you meant to her dad now.

Besides all that though, she just had this gut feeling. Like going back to Houston would be like going backwards.

Emily’s lower lip wobbled. She tried to stop it, but her emotions bubbled over.

“I like it here,” she admitted. “I…I want to stay.”

Beau welcomed his daughter over into a warm hug between them on the couch. Carla rubbed her back and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we’ll do that.”

They stayed like that for a while. Until eventually, the teen wanted to go back to editing her podcast. She was getting a hang of the editing software, and she wanted to post it online by the end of the week.

“Okay, but I want to hear the final cut before that gets released into cyberspace,” Beau called after her when she ran off into her room.

Carla shook her head and wiped her face dry.

“I still can’t believe you let her record you,” she said with a laugh.

“You and me both,” Beau admitted. If you hadn’t cajoled him into it, he probably wouldn’t have.

And the thought of you had him smiling to himself, more warmly. He’d couldn’t wait to call you…but no, this was something he should tell you in person. He turned to Carla.

“You’re sure about this? About staying?” he asked.

She nodded with a sigh. “We’ll just downsize to a smaller house. Though I will need you to keep sharing more of the custody responsibilities with Emily, presuming you’re able to get out of that trailer of yours.”

Beau wanted to argue that there was nothing wrong with his trailer (sure, it was a bit small. They’d been managing just fine). But as to not look a gift horse-in-the-mouth, all he did was nod in agreement.

“I’ll work on that,” he said.

“Thank you. Beau, I’m grateful for you,” Carla said. Her eyes were honest. “You gave me our daughter. And I’m glad you’ve gotten better, that you’ve been able to work through some of your issues. I think your girlfriend has had something to do with that.”

A smile quirked at Beau’s lips, and he nodded.

“That she has,” he said.

After his shift the following day, Beau met you at the end of your painting lesson at the local art studio. Everyone was starting to pack up their painting supplies. He managed to come up from behind and surprise you.

He tapped you on one shoulder, but appeared on your other side, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He laughed in light of your gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted.

You narrowed your eyes at him in amusement.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied. “Good timing! I just finished.”

While you gathered up your supplies, Beau admired your latest painting that was still drying on the canvas. He whistled lowly.

It was a landscape of Mount Helena. There was mist near its mountain peaks, and dense trees at its base, and wide plains of green, dotted by a couple of horses ranging free.

You swiveled toward him in your chair and looked up at him with a smile. The same one that caught his eye when he met you.

“After everything, everything, I don’t regret coming here,” you said. Your voice shook a little, and your eyes shone with emotion. You stood from your seat and slipped your hand into his. “This is still the place where I got the courage to start over. And it’s where I met you.”

Beau’s face softened.

“So no matter what you decide to do,” you said, “I won’t ever regret knowing you, Beau Arlen.”

His own smile crinkled the corners of his eyes then. He swept a gentle thumb across your cheek.

“I came to tell you that Carla and Emily are staying in Montana,” he said. “So am I.”

You sucked in a trembling breath. Your tears bubbled over and fell, but his hands were there to catch them, framing your face.

“But aside from all that,” he said, with a note of humor gleaming in his eyes. “I’d really, really, like to ask you out to dinner tonight. Call it ‘officially official.’”

You laughed and smiled so bright. You nodded and let him pull you into a warm embrace. He just surprised you by hefting you into his arms next. You yelped and clung to his shoulders.

Your art instructor, as well as a couple of lesson goers remaining in the studio, clapped and whooped and laughed at the way he started carrying you towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, go back! My stuff!” you said, gesturing at your workstation.

Beau graciously backed up so you could grab your bag of paint supplies and your canvas from the easel. It was a little awkward, but you both laughed as he tried to angle you out the door of the studio. He started walking you down the sidewalk.

“Where’re you taking me? My car’s that way,” you pointed in the opposite direction.

“I believe I asked you to dinner,” said Beau, with a teasing grin. “I don’t wanna waste no time.”

You wanted to point out that your hands were stained with paint, and you weren’t dressed for a date in your jeans and plain sweater, and this wasn’t exactly what you meant by asking you out…but maybe you didn’t need a “color-coded list” for everything.

Maybe you could let yourself be a little spontaneous for once.

“Okay, Beau,” you breathed a laugh, and rested your head on his shoulder. “Take me wherever you want.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said slyly. He kissed your forehead. “I’ve got plans for you.”

When he reached the passenger side of his truck, he set you down on your feet. He unlocked it and held the door open while you set down your things. You pivoted on your heel and grabbed the front of his shirt, so you could pull him down to you for a kiss.

He tasted like the promise of good days to come.

AN: And there we have it, friends. 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed the ride on this series. I've had so much fun exploring Beau and this version of him and the reader. I hope you'll let me know what you think of the finale here. 💓

But, their story's not quite over yet.

Stay tuned this coming week for:

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

Sneak preview coming soon...

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[clone-whore-99]

Troublemaker

Chapter 4: You shouldn't have done that

The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of sex(though no description), descriptions of a fight, sexual tension, Crosshair being mean, Crosshair being a tease, Crosshair being lowkey soft, Reader still having a lot of issue, displays of unhealthy coping mechanisms

LMK if I forgot anything

Authors note: excuse me for having a 2 week long mental breakdown, giving me major writers block. Does this mean the breakdown is over and I can write all I want again? (✿◡‿◡) No, but I did manage to be pretty proud of this chapter anyways. I feel like I got to capture Crosshair's personality pretty well. Thank you all for all the love that I've recieved from the past chapters, it means a lot to me ❤

If you like it, please do let me know by liking and commenting and maybe even reblogging, it would mean a lot to me 🥺👉👈

Chapter 1: Arriving at Kamino

Chapter 2: Work, armor and... Clones?

Chapter 3: Let it out

-

Chapter 5: Talk about it

Chapter 6: The 20 Questions Game

Chapter 7: Crosshair

Chapter 8: Echoes of the Past

Chapter 9: The Fight

Chapter 10: A Nice Change of Air

Chapter 11: Sore Muscles

Chapter 12: Heavy Rain Weights the Mind

Chapter 13: Waste of Time

Having met The Bad Batch on your first day on Kamino, was a bit like having had dessert for breakfast and then nothing but vegetables for the rest of the day. It wasn't that having vegetables was downright unpleasant, but it was a huge let down from having started the day off with dessert.

The first couple of days since they left had been fine - just fine. It was a huge adjustment getting used to being there, but your dad and most of the clones were patient and conciderate. You had even gotten to meet a Jedi, which had been such a mind boggling experience. The Jedi really were something else.

And you had gotten a chance to see why your dad never had any time. Even without Clone Force 99 around to keep him creative, he still had plenty of work to occupy himself with.

Special clone forces all needed changes to their standard armor, and although there was an entire team dedicated for this job, your dad was the one who designed and supervised all of it. This had also been the cause of many of your fights and arguements with him, as you were worried that your father was working himself too hard. But he always brushed you aside, telling you how you were over reacting and that there was no such thing as breaks during war time. Oh how mad he made you sometimes.

Another part of the big adjustments you had to make, was obviously the soldiers. These men didn't have a lot of interactions with the opposite sex - especially not the cadets. This would often lead to very bad attempts at flirting and displays of strength. Your favorite attempt was probably when a cadet had said: "Are you a clanker? 'Cause I wanna fill you with a load of my shot" right in front of your dad. He seemed to try and avoid coming by the workshop as much after that.

Though the attention had been fun and maybe even endearing at first, it quickly became a lot. Well, it wasn't like all the clones acted like that. Some were just friendly, others acted as if you were just another person working on the facility and a few acted like you were an entitled brat.

"Always needing Daddy to save your ass, huh?" one had smugly said, after your dad stopped you from getting into yet another fight. A couple others had laughed and damned if they were trained soldiers, they needed to get their ass beat.

You quickly felt the frustrations grow again. The same frustrations you had had, when you first arrived at Kamino. The same frustrations that had been lifted, when The Bad Batch had not only believed your reasoning for beating that senators son, but cheered you on for it. But now they were gone and you were angrier than ever.

It wasn't fair of you, to put the responsibility of your emotions onto a group of men you had just met. But they had made you feel more accepted than you had been in a long time. And it was gone again too soon.

You had tried to find other ways to rid yourself of these feelings. Exercising, hard training, meditation and yoga, getting into fights or hopping into bed with the first available man you could find. It had worked, but only temporarely, and then the feelings came back stronger than ever.

Today had been one of those days. The feeling of anger in you had been so strong, you felt like a bomb ready to explode. And someone had made a snarky comment in the passing. You honestly couldn't remember what they had said, but it had been enough. You had thrown a spanner wrench at him, hitting him in the back of the head.

"Say that to my face, you coward!" you spat at him, as he quickly made his way towards you. Everything in your body screamed to run as he was closing the gap between you, but you were stubborn and mad and ready to fight.

He grabbed you by the collar and held you up against a wall, so your feet barely touched the ground. "You know, little girls should really be careful who they pick a fight with. Especially when Daddy's not around to save you." He taunted, clearly just trying to scare you.

Quickly, you placed a foot flat against his stomach, ready to push him off you.

"What's going on here!?" your dads voice cut in, as he rushed over to seperate the two of you. The clone let you go immediately, causing you to fall flat onto the ground.

"You should really get your kid under control, Laquan," was said sternly, as the clone pushed your dad to the side and went away with his buddies.

"Lab trash!" you yelled bitterly after him, while you were trying to get back onto your feet.

A firm hand grabbed onto your shoulder, pushing back against the wall. "What do you think you're doing? You do realise that the more trouble you get in, the more trouble I get in, right? Or do you just not care that I could lose my job because of you?" your dad whisper-yelled at you, not wanting to cause any further a scene.

"Well, then maybe you might actually be able to catch a break!" you fired back, not caring about your yelling. "Or do you just not care that you're forcing your own kid to watch you work yourself to death?!"

"Go to your room, we're taking this discussion lat-"

"NO, we're taking this discussion NOW!" you stamped the ground. "Because later with you means never since you never have time for anything else!"

"I don't know if you've realised this young lady, but there is a war going on and those men out there are depending on the my work for survival!"

"Right, yea, because everybody else is way more important than me, right?" you could feel the tears dwell up in your eyes once again, but you didn't care. This was probably the longest conversation you had had with your dad in years.

At first, your dad looked hurt over that comment, but quickly bit down and spat out through gritted teeth: "Go. To. Your. Room."

The modified omicron-class attack shuttle, also known as the Havoc Marauder touched down on one of the landing platforms not far from your fathers workshop. Out stepped the four strange but familiar faces, with Tech busy explaining something to the newest member.

"Though, I agree that getting back into the field as soon as possible would be good for not only your mental health, but your muscle memory and physical health as well, you do need a proper armor, Echo." Tech stated matter-of-factly, while adjusting his goggles.

Echo shrugged. "What's wrong with the one they gave me on Anaxes?"

"It's ugly." Crosshair was quick to reply.

"It's not effective with the types of missions that we do," Tech cut in, shooting his brother a dirty look.

"And it doesn't really fit in with the rest of the group," Hunter added, placing a supportive hand on Echo's shoulder. "Once you look more like you fit in with squad, you'll feel like it too."

Wrecker, who were walking several steps in front of his brothers, suddenly called out across the hangar: "Hey Laquan! We got some work for you!" and with his thumb, he pointed back at Echo.

"Well, now, I've never..." Your dad walked towards the newest member, while cleaning his hands on a dirty rag. "You picked up a stray or something? That isn't usually your style." He looked at Hunter.

"Not really," Hunter's hand was still resting on Echo's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "This is CT-1409, also known as -"

"Echo?" Your dad interrupted, looking at the man in front of him in disbelief. "What happened to you? I was told you were dead..."

"It's kinda a long story.." Echo replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand.

"Well, then it's a good thing we've got a lot of work ahead of us," Laquan replied, overtaking Hunter's position with the arm around Echo's shoulder, so he could be led back to the workshop.

"You two know each other?" Hunter's gaze switched from between the two men.

"Yup. When Echo got promoted to ARC trooper, I was the one who made the updates for his armor. Glad to be working with you again old friend." Your dad was so happy to see Echo again, it had almost made him forget about your fight earlier, when suddenly...

"Hey, where's your kid?" Wrecker asked innocently, while looking under a table as if you would be hiding there. "I wanna thank her for her suggestion about my vibroblade's position. Never worked better!"

Your father suddenly looked like he had tasted something sour. "She's on time-out. She got in a fight again."

Tech and Crosshair were heading to their barracks. Tech, so he could make room for Echo and Crosshair, because he wanted a nap. But the mention of you getting in a fight caught his attention and he quickly turned back. "Got in a fight with whom?"

"I don't know. One of the regular clones..." he let out a deep sigh, letting himself slump down on a bench. Usually, your dad wouldn't let his personal problems out at work, but the boys were like a second family to him and he really needed to vent, even if just for a minute.

"She's out of control. If she's not flirting or... worse with the men, then she's picking fights with them. I-I don't know what to do with her. Maybe it would be best if she just... No, no. I just don't know what do with her." He looked pitiful up at the men. Then, with another heavy sigh and a clap of his hands, your dad stood back up again. "But, that's really none of your business. I'm sorry to bother you with family issues."

"What did you mean, with 'or worse'?" Crosshair probed, not willing to let it go so quickly.

Your dad was already pulling Echo towards a scanner, so he could get started with the blueprints of the new armor. "She thinks I don't know. That I haven't noticed how she at times takes a break after having flirted around a bit, only for her to return looking all disheveled." He shook his head at the thought. "Honestly, she really disappoints me sometimes..."

"Hey, where are you going!?" Wrecker yelled out to Crosshair, who was already making his way across the hangar again.

"She's on a time-out Cross. That means no visits!" Your dad called out.

With a smug smirk and a shrug, Crosshair just shouted back: "I'm just gonna have an honest heart to heart talk with her."

"Uargh!" you threw the cup across the room, getting further annoyed that it didn't break on impact with the wall, but rather just made a mess. You just screamed at stupid cup that wouldn't break, because how dared it stay intact when you throw it against a wall.

You paced around in the room, trying to catch your breathe and stop the tears that kept rolling down your cheeks. Why were you so angry all the time? Why couldn't you just be happy? Or at least, neutral? It couldn't be puberty, you were way past that. Why were you such a screw up?

You stopped your pacing just long enough for you to kick over a crate, that was still full of stuff you had yet to unpack.

"Poor crate, what has it ever done to you?" you turned around at the snarky comment, facing the last person you wanted to see from the bad batch. And the bastard even had the audacity to smile his usual devious smile at you.

You huffed out in disbelieve. "All those years in training, and yet they couldn't teach any of you how to knock on a door!?" Determinantly you made your way towards the silver haired fox, wiping your cheeks on the way. Quickly, you grabbed onto his overarm and pulled with all your might. "Get. Out!"

He didn't budge. Instead, he started laughing at your useless attempt of moving him. And once you finally accepted that you couldn't move him, you let go defeatedly. That's when he grabbed your chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, dollface. Your dad told us everything. About how much of a headache you've been. About all the trouble you've been causing, and all the men you've been with..."

Agressively, you pushed his hand away and took a couple steps away from him. You decided to put your attention back onto the crate that was knocked over and knelt down to put your things back into it. This way, you could still keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't sneak up behind you, while not having to confront him directly either.

"Oh? Did I hurt your feelings?" Crosshair teased.

"Why do you care how I spend my time? Or who I spend it with? If you came here in the hopes of getting a turn, fat chance, dollface." You mocked the stupid nickname he had given you, with as much poison in your voice as you could muster.

Removing the toothpick between his lips so he could study it, Crosshair laughed with no tracks of humor. "As if I wanted some regs sloppy seconds..." What the hell was a reg?

"Don't call me that!" You stood up, turning to face him once again. Your hands were shaking with anger.

"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" he flicked the toothpick at you, while leaning down so he could be at eye height with you.

That was it. Who the hell did he think he was, to just wander into your room like he owned the place and start throwing insults - and toothpicks - at you! It was time for you to finally give that smug face of his what it deserved - and put that mark around his eye to good use.

Suddenly, your burning hot blood ran cold. Your fist never made it's impact with his face. He had caught it mere inches from the goal and looked at you unamused.

"You gotta be faster than that, if you want to hit me," he pulled you closer like you weighted nothing. Yea, you had really messed up. You placed your free hand on his arm, trying to pull yourself free from his grasp. In the mean time, Crosshair leaned down again towards your ear and whispered real low: "And unlike Tech, I'm not just gonna take it. I'll hit back."

Another shiver ran down your spine, contrasting the hot breath that had hit your ear. Your breath got caught in your throat. He wasn't actually going to hurt you, was he? You barely even dared to glance up at his face, that was beaming with amusement over your reaction to him.

Crosshair appeared to finally decide to leave. The only problem was, that he was still holding onto your arm and therefore pulling you with him, no matter how much you tried to resist.

"W-wait! Where are we going?" you didn't mean to sound to panicked, but at that moment, you really couldn't help it.

"You'll see when we get there, dollface." He answered nonchalently.

"I'm not supposed to leave my room! Dad's gonna have a fit if he comes back and I'm not here." you frantically looked around for Lazie, the service droid, hoping that it could help in any ways.

"Your dad's busy and Lazie is helping him. We'll be back before he even notices you're gone." It was almost as if he had read your mind.

"WHERE ARE WE?" you loudly demanded, once Crosshair had stopped walking and pulled you in front of him before letting go of your hand. He didn't even bother to look at you. Instead, he was busy looking over a big display of... Guns.

"Ever shot one of these before?" He threw what you could only assume to be a sniper rifle at you. You caught it very clumsy, causing him to once again chuckle at you. You just looked dumbstrucked at the gun. "I'll take that as a no." He said a little less than a minute later, before grabbing your arm once again to pull you with him.

"You know, I can walk by myself!" you tried to free yourself from his grasp again, which was a lot harder while also trying not to drop the rifle he made you carry. Why you didn't just use the rifle to help free yourself? Good question.

"I know." You were pulled into an empty shooting range. It was big and rather cold in there. Crosshair pulled you up to a thick fence, before pressing a bunch of buttons on the wall next to it. The dark space in front of you lit up and target practices came flying into place.

Seemingly satisfied with this, the silver haired man put a new toothpick between his lips and leaned back against the wall. You could only stare confused at him.

It took you a minute, before you realised that he believed his work was done. He was just looking at you expectantly, waiting for your next move. You kept switching between looking at him and at the rifle, shrugging in pure confusion. "I... I don't know what you want me to do... I don't even know what this is..." You gestured at the gun.

"A DC-15x sniper rifle. Shoot it. I've already loaded it for you." He commanded, nodding towards the targets.

Now it was your turn to make a humorless laugh. "Thanks. You're great at instructions." You said sarcastically, before leaning against the fence with the rifle.

Without saying a word, Crosshair grabbed your shoulder with one hand, and the rifle with the other. He adjusted it, so the base of the gun rested against your shoulder in a very specific way.

"There," he said. "Now you won't dislocate your shoulder while firing, and I won't have to bother popping it back into place."

"How thoughtful of you." You leaned down, so your dominant eye could look through the scope. With a deep breathe, you pressed the trigger and completely missed the target.

"You're holding it wrong." Crosshair commented, moving from his spot.

"Well, you didn't really give any instructions..."

You could feel the hard metal of Crosshairs armor against your butt. He placed his feet by yours, lightly tapping them to adjust your position. And instead of his usual towering over you, he leaned down over your body, completely covering your frame with his.

You wanted to say something. You really did. But your mouth was dry and every word you were trying to speak, would disappear faster than you could conjure them. Your heart was beating so fast you were certain he could feel it through his chestplate. Not to mention, how your whole body was shaking.

"Stand still." He commanded, his head right next to yours. He had placed his hands over yours, both to guide them in how to hold the gun properly, but also to keep them still. "Try now."

You once again looked through the scope, instantly noticing how this new position you were forced into made it a whole lot easier and more comfortable to look through it. And with a shaky breathe this time, you pulled the trigger and hit the very edge of the target.

"Better. But you need to calm down if you want to actually hit the target." The stubbles from his five o'clock shadow tickled the shell of your ear everytime he spoke, and you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from gasping - or making other sounds, for that matter.

"It's kinda hard to stay calm, when you're standing over me like this." You shouldn't have said that. You really, really shouldn't have said that.

"Why?" Oh, how you could hear the amusement in his voice. He moved his head to the side, so his lips was directly on top of your ear, making you shake even more than before. "Am I making you nervous? Or is it something else, that's bothering you?" with that said, he shifted his hips so he was pushed impossibly closer to you, making you make - well, you weren't exactly sure what kinda sound you made, but it definitely wasn't one you wanted him to hear.

Seemingly satisfied with your reaction, Crosshair shifted back into the position he held before. "A good shot shouldn't be distracted by anything. You're lucky I'm going easy on you today. Now, shoot again."

You felt kinda lightheaded after that little number he made, but still did as commanded. Weird, normally you never would've done what someone else told you to. You lined up your shot, took a couple of deep breathes to calm yourself, before you pulled the trigger again. You were getting closer to the center of the target, but still not quite there yet.

You weren't sure how much time had passed by the time you were done. But your eyes were burning from over exhaustion and your body was hurting from having been in such an unnatural position for so long.

Crosshair was cleaning up the station, by putting everything back to where it belonged. Meanwhile, you were busy rubbing your eyes and stretching your back. You glanced down at the target cards. Your shots from when Crosshair had been helping you was better by the mile, than the ones from when he left you on your own. But still, by the end you had actually managed to hit the target more than once. And that was a huge achievement in your book.

You were pulled back to reality, when Crosshair for the third time that day grabbed you by your arm, so that he could drag you along with him. "You know, I can walk by myself." You reminded him.

"I know." He handed you the targets.

"Wait, am I allowed to keep these?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

It was impossible to figure out this man. At one point he was being really creepy, the next he acted like you didn't exist. Then, he would be super mean and then super caring. He would constantly tease you and make you so angry you could barely think, and yet, he somehow managed to calm you down just by being himself. He was one big mystery, really.

Dividers by: @djarrex and @firefly-graphics

Gif by: @ffdemon

Taglist: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @thebadbatchscyare @thebahdbitch @salaminus

Please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist (✿◡‿◡)

[fleckcmscott]

Do Not Disturb

Summary: During a much needed getaway to the Catskills, Arthur and Y/N make a few discoveries about themselves - and each other.

Words: 5,523

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

A/N: This request came from @sweet-nothings04​! It expands on the vacation referenced in the first chapter of Stepping Stones. @iartsometimes​ offered a little preview in this lovely birthday present. 😏 Switching from multi-chapter to short story mode was more challenging than I'd assumed; this request helped me scrub off some of the oneshot rust. Thanks for your patience! Thanks, also, to @iartsometimes​ for beta-ing! Please enjoy!

Arthur had finally cracked it.

Plucked from a windblown flier that'd caught on his prop bag, it'd been his fourth open mic night this week. Five-minute sets at Comedy Company, uncensored, no cost for entry. The club's two-drink minimum had been waived.

That old trick of looking at the back of the room to shake off jitters? Unnecessary. Thanks to a newly discovered setup-punchline meter, his communication with the audience had been fantastic. He'd been able to reach them all. The high of fresh material - good material - had joined the crowd's clapping to tickle his gray matter, seep into its grooves like the first kiss of the day. At long last, he'd crawled his way out of stand-up purgatory to make something of himself.

Mouth moving as fast as his feet, he pulled Y/N along beside him, striding up the sidewalk towards Burnley. A yard before their bus stop, a billboard crew crossed their path, bucket slings and ladders on their shoulders. They climbed one story and unfurled a 12' by 8' poster, a pitch for Buddy Shandler's one-man show "Ain't that America," a farce featured at the Gotham Forum. Garish and gaudy, the balding caricature twisted his bow-tie and winked.

Arthur sprung on a bench, imagination straightening the curlicues of B and S into the sharp angles of A and F. Flicking his cigarette away, he jutted his chin. "My name'll be up there someday."

"And where will I be when your star shines so bright?" Y/N asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am a humble paralegal."

"Senior paralegal," he said, extending a hand to her.

She took it and hopped up next to him, tapped his knuckles with each example. "You'll have a manager, a makeup artist, a lawyer to write all your contracts. Are you sure there'll be room for a pencil pusher like me?" Fingers splayed above her heart, she offered a coquettish pout and leaned in for a kiss.

He held back. "I'm serious. Not just this billboard. All of them. Maybe I can be the next Murray Franklin, make jokes about you and tell Dr. Sally I'll try everything with my one and only wife." And you'll be prouder of me, desire whispered at the base of his skull. You'll love me more.

Her jaw slacked and shut before she spoke. "You've been working so much. More than me, even." Given all his street performing, moonlighting at Amusement Mile, and the usual clown gigs, that couldn't be denied. "You should take a break."

"But I'm not tired." In fact, part of him felt like he'd just woken up, learned to live fully in the present. Too much time had been wasted, lost to fantasy and detachment, second guessing and outright failure. Not again, not with success on his heels, not when the world was his for the taking. He bit the inside of his cheek. "I feel good. Aren't you glad I feel good?"

She touched the tip of her nose to his, which melted him in an instant. "Of course, I am. You know, I admire your dedication. But I've been thinking it might be fun to go away together, work and comedy be damned."

A slight cock of the head. Vacations were one subject she seldom mentioned. "Yeah?" he said, fingers weaving together at the small of her back. "Where would be go?"

The agent with salon steamer silver hair at Crowne's Travel studied their list of must-haves: good for couples, secluded but not isolated, hassle free. "It's a little close to be this choosy," she said. Then the grin of a dealmaker brightened her face. "A client of ours cancelled a trip this morning. Real nice couple, until his wife caught him in bed with the maid. How'd you feel about a mountain hideaway?"

The Catskills were a classic choice, a dream destination Arthur had seen in commercials during Penny's soaps and talk shows. It was a tourist spot for the rich and famous, the famous for being rich, the rich for being famous. As remote to him as a fantasyland, even two hours northwest.

He signed the travel agreement without delay. If it could be a destination for the soon-to-be-famous (and their humble senior paralegals), he belonged there.

~~~~~

Sunrise Valley Bed and Breakfast was the sole inn that both met their criteria and had a free room on the July Fourth weekend. Tucked into the side of Mount Tycetonik, its three floors lodged six rooms, and its slogan promised guests they would arrive strangers but leave as friends. Breakfast was served from 7:30 - 9:30 AM, made-to-order, not a buffet. The owners, a husband and wife who communicated in one-word bursts, ran a tight ship. No loud noises after ten o'clock, no running in the halls, no smoking outside of the patio area. Guests were invited to a campfire every Saturday, don't be shy.

En route upstairs, a man in his late sixties passed by on his way to the dining room. He greeted them through the bushy caterpillar residing on his upper lip. "Welcome! First time here?"

"Yeah, it is," Arthur said, switching his teal suitcase from one hand to the other.

Mustache's gander followed Y/N's form, her breezy summer dress as it disappeared around a corner. He hunched forward, pointed at Arthur for emphasis. "Make sure you get down here early. The scones run out fast."

Their room was on the small side, but calling it cozy would be sweeter, so that's what Arthur decided to do. Butted against the left wall was a double bed, homemade star quilt spread across it. A cream table lamp squatted on a nightstand, the shade's fringe impressively dust free. The door to the private bathroom was on the right, followed by a dresser, where a note welcomed them and solicited suggestions. A peacock armchair was nestled in the rear corner, white wicker, the kind that'd become an album cover cliche. Only a television and air conditioner were missing. A programmed VCR in 4A made the former irrelevant. A fan spun weakly by the double hung window, circling humidity with a lazy puff puff.

Once unpacked, they perused the brochures nabbed from the check-in desk. The weekend came with plenty of local traditions. A brass band blowing patriotic tunes at the closest park; an Independence Day festival featuring enough red, white, and blue to blind; an upcoming parade one town over. None of it appealed to him. Other than watching the fireworks from the roof or attempts to barbeque on a disposable grill on the fire escape, they didn't have traditions related to the holiday.

They could go horseback riding at a nearby ranch, hike the scores of trails surrounding them. There was rock climbing or biking. But Arthur already did enough running around the city. And who found hanging off the side of a fifty-foot cliff relaxing?

They chose an aerial tramway. Bright yellow with green trim, straight out of the 1930s, it shuttered its way to Little Tonshi's summit at five miles per hour. Cable loops whirled and squealed, the car swayed to and fro. Twenty people stood, packed like sardines in a can, but as long as the sardine Arthur was crammed next to was Y/N, he didn't mind.

Two minutes into their ascent, she put a palm to her forehead, nails dug his side. He knew she'd made the mistake of looking through the tram's transparent base. "Look at me," he murmured, knuckle lifting her chin.

Rose pink painted her cheeks, a shade that dove straight to his diaphragm and made it jump. "You always manage to steady me."

The cabin campfire blazed when they returned to the B&B. As soon as they put a toe on the property, Mustache waved them over.

"Watch out." Y/N's steps slowed to a shuffle.

Arthur shrugged. "He's friendly."

"That's true. But he's also the type of man who'll grab your arm and talk your ear off if you're not careful." She plucked his lighter from him, sparked it, held it out. The old-fashioned romanticism of the gesture (a stunner, since she hadn't quit nagging him to quit) swept over him, sparking his own fire. He bent to stick his cigarette in the flame. "Don't let your manners get in the way. And remember you're all mine tonight."

Log benches sat on either side of the inferno, one free seat each. Y/N sat beside an older lady in a Just Say No! windbreaker, leaving Arthur the spot at Mustache's left. While Y/N commented on the possibility of rain, asked the woman if she was far from home, the older man patted the bench. After a nicotine puff of compliance, Arthur obliged.

Mustache passed him a roasting stick and bag of marshmallows. "You two on your honeymoon?"

That marriage was clear stretched Arthur's cheeks to the point of pinching. He skewered the squishy treat and held it over the fire, high enough to be licked by hints of orange. "Just a long weekend."

"I thought I'd recognized that gaze," Mustache said, nodding towards Y/N. "Same one my wife had when we got married in, oh, forty-four? We come here every year. Used to bring the boys, too, before they moved west. You been married long?"

"Six years October 19th."

"You're still newlyweds. Got any kids?"

"No."

"Planning on it?"

"No."

The man crossed his ankles. "Well, that's all right. They're expensive and put a real damper on the bedroom."

Arthur's brows shot up. He tapped ash into the cinders, tucked his arm closer so Mustache couldn't grab it.

Y/N yanked her marshmallow out of the hearth, cupped her hand around it and blew. Her tongue circled the burnt sugar, drew it to her mouth. When her eyes shut and she hummed her satisfaction, he noticed the sweat glistening on her neck, the white thread that stretched from the skewer to her lower lip. Pulse quickening, he gaped at her, completely transfixed.

The spell broke in seconds. "Arthur, your stick's on fire." She laughed and lunged to his rescue.

He leapt to his feet, wagged the marshmallow, shoved the hot coal between his teeth. The bitter shell disintegrated, coated the inside of his cheeks, every millimeter of his gums. He winced. It was barely on par with attempts to toast them over his old propane stove.

She smoothed her palms from her waist to her thighs in one fluid motion. "Excuse me, but I wanted to catch the owners before lights out. Have a good night, it was nice to meet you." After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder, sent a message that would make Cupid's arrow fly.

Still chewing, he excused himself to let it strike.

~~~~~

"I have a surprise," Y/N said, closing the door with a low thud. "No peeking."

Overheated for more reasons than one, Arthur shook off his diamond striped short-sleeve shirt, stepped out of his brown trousers, peeled off white socks. What could she have brought? New lingerie? Garters and stocking that went on for miles? Maybe fresh romantic spray or a box of assorted chocolates. That last one would be the ideal complement to his own surprise. He turned to his overnight bag and rooted around.

A zipper ripped at the opposite side of the bed.

Adopting the stealth of a man sneaking into a gala, he slunk behind her and definitely peeked. The Couple's Game was scrawled across a black, rectangular box, a title that intrigued and allured. A man and woman lounged on a rug in the cover photo, scantily clad, wine glasses filled to the brim. "It was in the window at the hosiery shop on the corner," she said. "They're a romantic supermarket now."

From behind his back, he brandished a bottle of her favorite merlot. "It's perfect."

Cross-legged on the oak floor, he delivered the directions in the jovial intonation of a late-night monologue. The romantic adventure would recreate the excitement of their first meeting and strengthen their bonds. Players were to answer questions, listen to their partners with open hearts, and never argue or interrupt. Creativity was encouraged. The goal? To reach the red heart at the end of the track.

Arthur suspected that wasn't the only way to win. "'Make sure your clothing is comfortable and easy to remove?'" A sharp snort and he placed two token - one red, one black - on the starting square.

The commencing inquiries were easy, as light and pleasurable as a perfect evening, which this would assuredly be. What they'd tell each other if they lost their memories. ("I'll love you forever, if you let me," he said. "Every step that's led me to you is one I'd take again," she promised.) An order for them to lock eyes for ten seconds and remember how lucky they were. And, yes, they could see themselves together for the rest of their lives. ("That's why I wanted to get married," he said out of the corner of his mouth.)

But when he'd rounded a third of the track, the mood grayed. "What's your biggest fear?" he asked.

Her nails hit her goblet in restless repetition. Tap. Tap. Tap. She scoffed a sniffle. "What a terrible question for a romance game. Ask another?"

Snippets from a thousand conversations had clued him in: the options were losing him or getting sick like her father. Since her forty-sixth birthday, since The Change had crept up on her, her notetaking and list making had increased. Despite her powers of recall outmatching his, he'd come to understand her annoyance at occasional lapses in memory. Her organizational habits were acts to fight that future, a future the deepest recesses of his soul knew wouldn't come to pass.

A kiss to her fingertips confirmed that conviction. "Okay." He rolled a four, advanced to another square. "'Do you always tell your lover when they upset you?'" That didn't seem much better. Regardless of how blissful their relationship was, he had to admit it wasn't all roses. Occasional thorns poked, too. To have to think about them now, when the instructions said her panties were supposed to be halfway to her ankles?

Y/N refilled her glass. "No."

"Why not?" They were unfailingly honest with each other. Alright, there was his firing from HaHa's and the pistol that'd caused it, but beyond that-

"We both know we have habits to work on. There's no need to dwell on them and foster bad feelings. But I guess what's hardest for me is when you try to hide being upset. You don't have to pretend with me. We were past that the moment we met." She dismissed his internal protests with a wave of her hand. "I get it. That's your line to draw and I trust you. That doesn't make it any less irritating."

He nodded tightly, channeled his instinct to frown into twanging the cords of his neck. Tried to hear her answer as a comment rather than criticism. A deep breath and he gave his own. "I don't like it when you work too much. When you're gone sixty hours and bring files home. It doesn't happen a lot, not like before. But I miss you."

"My promotion's a little more than we bargained for, especially with the merger. It'll slow down soon. You're never forgotten or left out, it's just that-" Cutting herself off, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I broke the rules again. What's my fine?"

"Hearing one more thing."

"And what's that?"

Boosted on his elbow, he finished his merlot, readied himself by pouring another. Prepared to reveal the scandalous secret he'd kept since the earliest days of their courtship. "Your eggs. They're awful."

"But you gobble them up." Awareness flashed in her eyes, the disbelief that'd knotted her forehead loosening. "Is that why you put a bottle of ketchup on them? Why didn't you tell me?" Her small fists pummeled his bicep quarterheartedly.

Arthur caught her wrists, chuckled his reply. "Your pancakes make my morning batter."

"Uh-huh." She extricated herself and threw the die. It scuttled under the dresser, where she stretched and strained to reach it. "Three!" Her red pawn hopped two spaces ahead of his. "'Without embellishment, tell me about your first time.'" She peered at him like she was awaiting a performance review. "This isn't going to be like the egg thing, is it?"

A laugh escaped him, the rare kind that tingled his ribs until they ached with glee. "I liked it. A lot. You made it easy. But it was too short."

"And wonderful." She rolled onto her belly, kicked her legs up behind her, crossed them mid-calf. Her knee-length skirt flopped higher, dangling at her hips, teasing glimpses of her cotton covered bottom. "Six weeks before Jeff and I got married. I was done waiting. We were both nervous - he'd done it before but never with a virgin. But he was gentle and patient. And I discovered a new favorite hobby."

Fondness tinged her words, stirred within him a grudging relief. Grudging at not having been hers back then, relief that her initial explorations had been better than the bleeding and pain he'd heard about. Mirroring her position, he realized those good experiences may have paved the path to his own, allowed her to be the bold counterpart to his bashfulness.

His pawn rounded the last corner. "'What's my feature you like best?'"

"Your bedroom voice."

His timbre dropped to a velvet fog, rasp scarcely above a whisper. "My bedroom voice?"

"Mmm, just like that. When I hear it, I know I'm in trouble."

A long hum rumbled in his throat. Her position loosened her overlapping neckline, offered a world class view of her cleavage. Her breasts appeared larger at this angle, the slit between them long and deep. He really loved them. He didn't tell her that often enough. "I love your breasts."

"And here I thought you were the sweet one, Mr. Fleck. Have you had me fooled all this time?" She walked her fingers down his chest. Lip stuck in his teeth, he watched the descent. "Maybe that's what you should tell me if I lose my memory. It'd certainly sweep me off my feet. Well, that along with your big broom." At that, she snapped the waistband of his briefs, stole the die and threw a final throw. Her token landed on a silhouette of joined hands. "'How did you know you were in love? What did it feel like?'"

Fuzzy with drink, he rolled onto his back, followed the blurry orange peel pattern of the vanilla ceiling. Debating if the lovely woman at the store had actually spoken to him, standing behind her in line, their cautious but eager walk together. All of it projected on his inner eye in widescreen. A phone call replayed, made a week after pie, in which he'd chanced a mediocre pun and her laugh had thawed his apprehension into incredulous bewilderment. ("You really like my jokes that much?" "I like you that much.") Dreams of being spotted by Murray had become dreams of being spotted by her.

Negative notions and ruminations were what his brain was built for. An intruding army with ever stronger munitions, their returns tightened his sinews until aching became default. But she'd changed that, been a keyhole of light in the dark. "I didn't want to stop thinking about you. It made me feel like maybe my life could be more than living with my mother and paying bills. I'd wait for you to call. You'd say my name and it was like..." A smile thinned his lips, boyishly affectionate, intimate as a kiss. "Being wrapped inside the joy I wanted to give but never had."

"Arthur," she purred, the second syllable elongated. She planted her mouth under his left ear, the spot he wanted her mouth on every day. It was wet with wine. He imagined being tattooed with the print of her burgundy stained lips. Goosebumps broke out at the brush of her breath. "Falling in love with you was a gift I didn't expect. That you have the handsomest wrapping is a happy bonus." She caressed his nipple to hardness, traced the sparse black hair that circled it. "You've helped me allow myself to be vulnerable. I hope I've helped you know it's alright to not always be all right."

"You have." He pressed her to him, swept the pieces from the board to entwine their legs. "You do."

Teeth tickled his peck, a not altogether unpleasant sensation. "You smell delicious," she said, yawning. "I wanna eat you up."

"You're tired."

"No." Nuzzling his sternum, she yawned again. "I'm horny."

He grinned into her hair. He'd been tempted to take her this morning, but she'd busied them with packing. An increase in his ability to get hard and stay hard was a welcome companion to this summer's newfound optimism. But his vision swam. He wanted to be intoxicated not by merlot but by her. "Go brush your teeth. I'll put this away and be right there."

~~~~~

Heat rained on Arthur. Rivulets trickled down his chest, clung to lean hips and narrow waist, drops dripped from the ends of his curls. This shower had to be quick. If he got done before she returned from her coffee run, he'd have a minute to sneak out for a smoke. He shut off the spray, stepped onto the area rug, ran cotton fibers along his face, his neck, the solid plains of his slender frame. Patted boney kneecaps and put his foot on the closed toilet to dry between his toes.

He wiped steam from the mirror and opened the outswing window. The air was thick, heavy, as though the clouds could crack open and pour on them at any moment. A syrup of fog obscured the mountains, stealing their peaks. So much for postcard views. Toweling his locks, he opened the bathroom door.

Oh.

Legs folded under her in the corner chair, Y/N read this weekend's issue of Catskill Mountain News. She appeared absorbed, lips moving. Wisps of brown and grey hair softened her face, diffused shadow alternated with silvery light in the hollows of her neck. And she was nude save for his forest green cardigan.

A postcard view just for him.

Sidelong glance locked on her, he ambled to the dresser. The sweater remained unbuttoned, the opening cascading over her bust, displaying enough to taunt. Slivers of toffee areolas titillated, puffy and soft, begging for his touch. Had she started planning this the moment he'd revealed his favorite feature?

Arthur gripped the top drawer's handle, hardening already. He managed enough self-control to adopt his best bedroom voice. "I think you forget your panties."

Toes drew a line down his calf. He twitched. Her foot hooked around his ankle and he twitched again. The newspaper fell to the floor, a gentle rustling that echoed off the tension in the room. "That's what I get for neglecting to pack lace," she said.

He bent to cup her face. Eager and wet, his mouth opened hers, swallowed the moan in her throat. He clasped her hand, intending to curl it around his shaft, ease the pressure mounting in his groin. But she grabbed his ass instead. At her insistence, he straddled her lap. The wicker seat poked his knees.

She grasped him, a languid up and down. Arching into her palm, his erection skimmed her cleavage. His Adam's apple bobbed. She dragged the purplish-red tip of him across her nipples, first the left, then the right. Her areolas tightened as if he'd suckled them, their faint stretchmarks shortening to dabs. Her gaze dropped to watch as she pleasured herself, her breath fanned over his charged flesh. All at once she lifted her breasts, pushed them together, enveloping his length in her warm, velvety skin.

A jolt wracked him. The sight of her in his sweater combined with this new way of loving him made him strain at her sternum. It was messy and strange. He was torn between uncertain laughter and confident exploration. Reticent to put his weight on her, he paused the rocking of his pelvis. "Are you sure this is comforta-?"

"We've waited long enough," she said on a husky chuckle. "Shut up and fuck me."

He ground against her. The sensation wasn't euphoria, not compared to the bliss of being clutched by her walls. More akin to beating off. Yet, her delectable playfulness, the intimacy of trust, her desire to do this to him - for him - captivated. And it would've been a lie to pretend her ample breasts framing his cock wasn't quite the scene.

The channel she'd created soon turned sticky with sweat and lack of air conditioning, slow smoothness slumping to a sluggish stutter. Determined to switch positions and bury himself to the hilt, he squeezed her shoulder, his usual signal for her to stop, to let him take control. She appeared to heed him, dropping her rounded flesh in an instant. Then she seized the base of him, whispered a caress along his testes.

Shock clenched his jaw, he clutched the back of the chair. Her hot tongue waltzed about the head, singed the vein throbbing on the side. Swollen lips lingered, long, drugging kisses interrupted by fervent flicks on the underside of the glans. Swirling, stroking, searing him towards ecstasy. He took hold of his erection, guided it inside her mouth, swept her tresses behind her ear. His length glistened with saliva, inciting the shallow, rapid rhythm of his hips.

He panted her name, a plea cut off by a harsh grunt. One final thrust and he flooded into her, abandoned to release. Toes curled in the air, knees locked at her thighs, fingers clutched her scalp. For a split second, he forgot who he was, where he was, forgot all beyond how to feel. He doubled over, cradling the side of her neck for purchase.

Relief settled in him, loosening his biceps, sensation oozed through his limbs. He'd gone flaccid but she continued to kiss him, like she couldn't bear to let go. He pecked the crown of her head. Rose from her lap and withdrew a step to survey her. Half-lidded, she wiped her chin.

A knock came at the door.

Retrieving her mug from the windowsill, Y/N answered the caller in a steady if higher pitch. "Yes?"

"I realize you have your door hanger here," Mustache started. "But we didn't see you downstairs. Breakfast is over in twenty minutes. Want us to grab you something?"

Arthur had never been so annoyed to make a friend.

"That's thoughtful, thank you. We'll be down before long," she said. Cheery footsteps carried Mustache away, and she collapsed into the chair. A wanton smile lit her eyes, a look of lazy seduction that asked what was next.

His stomach's answer was a protesting growl.

A choked snicker. "Make sure you order extra eggs." She gulped the rest of her coffee, shifted her legs in an unladylike manner that bared her thatch of curls, flashed the shiny pink hidden within. His mouth watered.

Pulling her upwards, he scurried to the bed to plop in the middle of the mattress. She fell forward on one knee, climbed to sit astride him. The box spring squeaked and squawked, loud enough for anyone inviting them to breakfast to hear. When she stretched to put her mug on the nightstand, her breasts grazed his cheeks. He captured one in a kiss, lapped the valley between them. Her center rubbed his abdomen, smeared wet streaks below his navel. She dragged him from her stiff peak, stole his lips with her own. Whimpered and rutted harder, a swift series of strokes that'd soon have her shaking.

He cupped the dip of her waist, lifted her an inch. Pecked a mischievous line down her neck, her breastbone, her belly. He lay back, a gradual recline that brought her to his chest. Elbows hooked under her thighs, he coaxed her higher, until her core sat directly under his chin.

She scrunched her nose, fumbled at the pillow and sheets, as if searching for the right place to land. After six seconds, her elbows drew together, shielding her breasts.

Zigzags and figure eights, he traced patterns on her spine, simple calligraphy in the sheen of her sweat. "It's okay."

Giggling and girlish, she straightened a bit. "It's just a little odd, hovering over you like this."

He chuckled. There was a unique delight in her being the one having to regain her footing, in him being the one to introduce her to a new act. He pressed moist lips to her slightly stubbled leg, a humble request for permission. With a shiver, she gave it.

His touch trailed along her hip, traversed the curve of her abdomen, drifted below. Her folds were swollen, fanned out, a cherished invitation. She was the prettiest scarlet he'd ever seen. He kissed her springy curls, the pad of his thumb brushed her slit. A sudden impulse flared in him, an impulse to say something as reckless as her nude in a cardigan. The round tip of his nose met the heat of her sex. "I love your cunt."

"Arthur!" She covered her face, which had gone red as a flame. "What's gotten into you?"

He wasn't sure but he longed to keep it, this brashness that outmatched hers. His tongue spread her wider, followed her inner lips. She jerked forward.

"May I move?” she asked.

He groaned into her. "Shut up and fuck me.”

Short and firm, swipes teased her hood, splayed flat on her clit. Subtle rolls began to build, a delicate canter that met the movements of his mouth.

Her slick increased with each swallowed cry. She tasted sweet yet ripe, different from the tang of their earlier years. Muskier, like an antique perfume. The heady scent filled him, drove every fiber to please her, hold her to his greedy lips. His palm snuck beneath the sweater, memorized her heated skin centimeter by centimeter.

When he groped her breast, tested the weight of it, she gripped the headboard, splayed her knees wider, brought herself more fully over him.

"Fuck, Arthur..."

He'd fantasized women were soft and squishy, like a down comforter. Easily pliable, able to be wrapped in at the end of the day. And Y/N was all those things. But this part of her, the hat pin nub pulsing beneath his ministrations, was hard and stiff with want of him.

His grip on her thigh tightened, one leg folding behind her, foot flat on the bed. Her writhing hastened, stammering. Hurried weak thrusts as he sucked her off. Fingers dove through his damp curls, tugging as she froze. Quivering, she let loose a moan, which turned into an elated giggle. He licked her through her spasms, craned his neck to keep at it as she tried to back away. A distinctly masculine rush surged through his veins, the satisfaction of displaying his talents, of fulfilling her and thereby himself.

Of being pretty damn good at getting her off.

Once she'd caught her breath, she clambered off him, his arm at her waist anchoring her. Half supine, she faced the wall. The cardigan hung at her side, ribs rising and falling in an ever slowing current.

The board game's box beckoned from the top of the dresser. He scooted up behind her. "Did anyone else do that to you?"

"Not like you do." She paused and a laugh cracked out of her. "I still can't believe you did that our first night together."

Part of him had believed he'd never see her again. He hadn't been about to waste the chance to finally have that experience. But there'd been more to it, an underlying layer he hadn't discerned seven years ago. Although she'd said he'd allowed her to be vulnerable, she allowed it for him, too. To be naked with her, to exist in his natural state. To be himself when he didn't comprehend everything he was. To learn to love her without fear. Losing himself with her was an act of sharing that thrilled despite being old hat, one he craved even after the hundreds of times it'd already occurred.

He ran his hand down her body and cupped her mons. "I wanted to."

Her hand covered his, interlocking their fingers. "It's nice to be wanted."

Neither of them moved to get up. Spent and content, he snuggled closer, arm tucked under his head. He dozed lightly, listened to her even breathing. The room’s sticky air settled over them both.

Suddenly, Y/N flipped over, pushed him on his back. The look in her eyes was a bit concerning. "How long before you're ready again?"

Arthur huffed, did a quick calculation. "I dunno. After lunch? Why?"

She caught his lower lip in a kiss and sucked, snaked her palm between them and squeezed his sleeping sex. "I need seconds."

~~~~~

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[mionemymind]

Chapter 9: The Truth

Fake Memories

Series Summary: After Y/n is caught cheating on Wanda with Carol, Y/n would do just about anything to get Wanda back into her life. But was it even Y/n’s fault that she cheated? Or was it the new enemy set on revenge?

Chapter Summary: The after effects of the attack on New York have changed everything for the Avengers, Wanda, and Y/n. 

A/n: I have managed to write this all within one day. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes but please let me know your thoughts love :) (Not my GIF)

Warnings: Fighting, Hydra, Blood, Mentions of Death, Anxiety, Curse Words

Word Count: 4.9k

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |

Covered in ash, dirt, and dried-up blood, Steve was a walking disaster as he paced through the hospital waiting room. Well, if you would call it a hospital that is. It’s been less than an hour since the Avengers have controlled the fires in New York but the troubling news of Y/n and Wanda brought them to a halt.

They quickly rushed to the “hospital”, which was just an empty leased building before being revamped into a hospital for this emergency. The walls were made up of light green curtains. You couldn’t even separate the blood-curling screams from down the hall to the one next to you.

“Stop pacing Rogers. You’re making my head hurt,” Tony said as he sat next to his suit. He had managed to borrow one of the hospital’s tablets to see if there were any updates that could remotely be done to the tower. So far, no luck had been made to reboot F.R.I.D.A.Y or power up the building in general. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he bit back.

Before Tony could say anything, Natasha lightly elbowed him in the stomach to keep him hushed. Now was not the time to start fighting especially at a time like this. “Are you any closer to powering up the tower?” She asked. If Natasha was nervous, she sure as hell didn’t show it. While the assassin did have a similar beat-up look like Steve, her composure was almost too relaxed. However, if Steve cared to notice, he could quickly see how big of a lie that was but his mind was only focused on the two youngest Avengers.

On the other side of the building lied Wanda and Y/n. The only thing separating those two was the thin green curtain and the team of tired nurses and doctors that surrounded them. And while the two have been closer before, this was the first time in a while that they both slept peacefully by each other. It didn’t matter the circumstances of how they slept, but rather what they dreamt...and it was of each other.

“What do you think we would have been like if we lived normal lives?” It was a late afternoon on a sunny day in spring. Wanda and Y/n laid down in the grass under a tree that shadowed them from the sun. Today was one of their off days and seeing as the weather was nice, the two felt like it was a perfect time to go to the park.

“Well, we would obviously attend school.” Wanda was lying down on her back with a dandelion in her hand as Y/n laid on her side, using her left hand to support her head. “I can honestly see you as being the popular person or maybe even the President of some type of political club.”

“What makes you say that?” The soft breeze that covered them came once again, which blew the pappis away. The small frown on Wanda’s faced made it hard for Y/n to focus but she still responded, “You just have this powerful aura to you, Wanda. When you talk, people listen. But what you do better is how easy it is for us to believe you. That’s something not a lot of leaders can do.”

“You make it sound like I’ll be the next President of the United States,” Wanda replied jokingly. “I wish.” Wanda pushed Y/n back slightly as she laughed but all Y/n did was smile at the action. “But what about me? What do you think I would be like?”

Putting her finger to her chin, Wanda thought for a moment before saying, “Honestly, without your powers, you are probably a film nerd at heart. Maybe just a nerd in general.”

“Hey! Now you’re just being mean.” Wanda rolled her eyes as she threw away the dandelion stem. She turned her head to face Y/n. There was this adoration in her eyes that quickly made Y/n blush. “Who cares. All I know is if anyone decides to mess with you, they’ll obviously have to go through me.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me the President of the political science club is going to come to my rescue?”

“Duh! I’ll probably yell at them or something. If not, I’m not afraid to get nasty.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“How’d you let them get away?” Fury said as he walked into the hospital that Y/n was at. The man was not in his finest hour. First, the mass destruction of New York city was blasting on the news. Reporters and anchors are not looking in favor for the heroes regardless of the actions they’ve taken to try and minimize the damage. Many were angry at the mere fact that this happened at all.

“Someone on their team had quickly teleported them to safety,” Carol stated. The girl has been feeling nothing but guilt for the past hour. Although she did save Wanda and Y/n, the state she had found them in only did worse for her thoughts. “Even if I did try to catch up to them, the lack of response from Wanda and Y/n meant something. I probably couldn’t have faced them alone if I tried.”

Before Fury could have walked any further into the building, Carol grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to look at her. “Her ears were bleeding Nick...I think they did something to her head again.”

Wanda woke up with a slight headache, the dream vaguely on her mind. As she started to grasp her surroundings, she only grew more confused. “Where am I?” She thought. The loud beeping beside her combined with screams and loud thoughts overwhelmed Wanda. Feeling the need to get out, she quickly started to remove the various wires on her as the recent events caught up to her. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to lay back down,” the nurse asked kindly.

“Where’s Y/n?” Wanda almost lost her balance as she stepped off her bed. She used the nurse in front of her to regain her balance, before walking out of her “room”. “Ma’am, I’m not going to ask again, please lay back down or I will have to get security.”

The threat was the last thing on Wanda’s mind. All she could focus on was finding Y/n. Using her powers, she closed her eyes and tried to sense where Y/n was. Considering the girl was right beside her, it didn’t take long for Wanda to find out.

Quickly walking over to the side of her room, Wanda pushed the curtain to the side but the sight in front of her made everything stop. There was Y/n, battered and bruised. There was drywall dust on her face along with dried-up blood. “Y/n,” Wanda whispered in disbelief. Much to Wanda’s dismay, Y/n didn’t respond. She remained unresponsive on the bed.

Reaching out to try and hold her hand, Wanda was pulled back by the same nurse. “Ma’am, please let the doctors and nurses do their jobs while you go back to your bed.” Wanda shrugged off her hand, her eyes glowing red as she said, “Don’t.”

Wanting to be by Y/n’s side, Wanda tried to walk towards her again but Steve’s voice made her stop. “Wanda.” Turning back around, Wanda first noticed just how beat up Steve was. His helmet was off which made Steve oddly look like a raccoon. If times were different, maybe Wanda would have laughed. Instead, she stormed out of the room, feeling more overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry about her ma’am,” Steve said with a courteous nod.

Wanda sat on the ledge of the roof. The slight breeze of the night was coursing past her as she mindlessly fiddled with her fingers, a nervous habit she developed after her parents’ death. It was during a harsher breeze that Wanda touched her forehead where the slight open injury was at. She had left the floor just moments ago and somehow her feet led her here. Although she knew that she needed someone to look at the injuries she sustained, her mind was focused elsewhere. It was plagued with thoughts about the girl that was still entrapped in a room full of doctors that had no clue how to treat her. Wanda knew it was wrong of her to read their minds, but she hoped that at least one of them at least knew where to start. Panic and anxiety filled the redhead’s body the more she realized that no one knew how to help Y/n. Soon, the room felt as if it was enclosing on her. Before Steve realized she was about to break down, she left to sort out her thoughts and emotions.

Wanda had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed Carol leaning against the entrance of the roof. The blonde was only a couple of feet away from Wanda wearing black sweatpants and a shirt. The girl was wrapping up a mission when she saw the text from Y/n. Carol didn’t know whether the drop in her heart was from the fake feelings Memory Man had created or whether she genuinely cared about the girl’s wellbeing. It didn’t matter though. What mattered was Y/n’s safety.

Carol leaned up against the ledge while surveying the view. They were a foot away from each other but it didn’t take a mind reader to know that both girls were thinking about Y/n. Ironically enough, they each had their separate thoughts about how they failed to protect Y/n. For Wanda, she felt as if she was the sole reason that Y/n got hurt. If she had only conquered her abilities more, Y/n wouldn’t have had to sacrifice herself again just to protect her. Not only that, but Wanda felt beyond frustrated with herself for being so frozen and paralyzed as the enemy hurt Y/n right in front of her eyes. There was nothing holding her back besides herself and that was something that will haunt her for a while. For Carol, she felt that if she were just a bit faster and maybe not a galaxy away, she would have reached them in time to help.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Wanda sidely glanced at Carol. The first thing she noticed was her attire. It didn’t take long for the dots to connect before she realized that it was Y/n’s clothes Carol was wearing. Wanda bit her tongue at the ounce of jealousy and resentment that decided to rise within her. This was no time to start arguments especially with the person that helped Y/n just in the nick of time. So Wanda had opted for a different but just as difficult route. “Thank you.”

Carol heard but decided to remain silent. Clearing her throat, Wanda continued, “I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t found us.” Finally, the two made eye contact as Carol glanced at Wanda. “I’m only here for Y/n,” Carol deadpanned. Wanda choked at her words but still had a serious composure. They both looked back at the city but there was a more tense feeling in the air. Carol hadn’t cared if the words had hurt Wanda. What she cared for was Y/n. But the looming question in the back of her head was always if this was a genuine feeling or if it was forced. However, the way her heart overwhelmingly felt angered at the person beside her, she knew that at this time, the feeling was genuine.

Subconsciously, Wanda felt the emotions that leaked out of the blonde. She didn't need to go in her mind to realize that. It felt like Carol’s guard was down leading her aura to be seen. It had covered the area surrounding the two in such a suffocating manner that Wanda felt like she couldn’t breathe. The two most compelling emotions were the anger she held for her and the love she had for Y/n. As she cracked her knuckles, Carol muttered, “It is quite ridiculous the things Y/n continuously goes through for a team that can barely return the favor.”

“You don’t get to-”

“Now listen here. I don’t quite care much for your team. Frankly, y’all don’t deserve Y/n.” The two faced each other with such intensity that one wrong move could cause a fight with two of the galaxy’s most powerful superheroes. “But if I’m being honest, you don’t deserve Y/n.” Wanda’s fists clenched at Carol’s words. It took everything out of the redhead to not fling Carol out of New York, because how dare she accuse her of such atrocities.

“If I were you, I would stop where you’re at,” Wanda said threateningly. The spiral scarlet glow in her eyes only made Carol chuckle. “You know you’re not the only one with powers.” Carol’s fist glowed with the same intensity as Wanda’s eyes. But the threats were pointless as the two had stopped at the same time.

“You don’t see it but you should feel lucky Wanda.” Cocking her eyebrow, Wanda responded with, “And why is that?” The redhead remained in a defensive stance as she crossed her arms. Carol walked closer to her and placed her hand on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda was still tense but it slightly faltered when she saw how serious Carol was. “There’s a girl out there that loves you even when her mind and heart tell her otherwise.” And with that, Carol left Wanda to herself.

The burning feeling in his legs shouldn’t have felt familiar but it did. It reminded him of the body that he held through New York’s streets. It reminded him of the blood all over his hands and clothes. It reminded him of that fateful night that he failed.

And as he stormed into the hospital with nobody in his hands, something in the way that the team looked made his blood drain. Before Bucky could ask about Y/n’s whereabouts, Beth had walked in. Seeing her familiar face caused Bucky to be slightly relaxed but still anxious about what she could possibly say.

“I have an update on Y/n’s health.” Carol had walked into the room and her attention immediately landed on Beth. “Tell us, Beth,” Fury said.

“As of right now, she will be fine. The doctors have her hooked up to a solution that is allowing her regeneration abilities to work. But-,” before Beth could finish her update, Tony had stood up and loudly commented, “- Great, now that we know Ms. Hydra is okay, can we get back to the real issue at hand?”

As Carol was about to advance to Tony, it was Beth’s words that made the room quiet. “Of course it would be the self-righteous billionaire that would talk shit.” Tony’s head snapped towards Beth. “Excuse me?!”

Beth glared back at Tony, not daring to back down. Her arms were crossed as she continued, “Don’t act like you can’t hear me, or is your ego too far high for you to actually listen?”

Walking towards Beth, Tony said, “Listen here you son of a-” Before Tony could get any closer to Beth, Bucky had used his arm to stop him. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Tony forcefully removed Bucky’s hand from his chest. He stepped away from Beth, not wanting to deal with what he thinks of as just some pathetic nurse.

“You know what the real issue is Tony - actually - all of you. It’s the fact that you seriously think of Y/n to be this villain.” Beth had let out a dark chuckle at the irony of the situation. “Or have you forgotten the shit you’ve ALL done? Let’s name them, shall we?”

“Beth-” Beth glared at Bucky. She didn’t care if this wasn’t the time nor the place for this conversation, because God was she so tired of them. “Tony, remember all the weapons that you’ve created for mass destruction and have yet to actually own up to the consequences of them?”

“I would stop there if I were you before-”

“Before what?!” Beth said as she threw her hands up. “Before you sue me?! Before you attack me?! Oh - that’s it, isn’t it? What are you gonna do? Kill me? Like how you did with Y/n?!” The room grew more silent as everyone besides Bucky and Beth digested her words. “It’s honestly sad how a bunch of adults has managed to push a KID to take their life away. All for what?! Because you thought she cheated on Wanda! News fucking flash - she didn’t even fucking cheat.”

“What?” Steve said. The shock of Beth’s words was still affecting him. “It was Memory Man. He had put fake memories in Y/n’s and mine’s heads. That was the whole reason we kissed - wait - did you not know about this?” The team was frozen while Carol and Fury impatiently waited for answers.

Not caring to wait for their pathetic excuses, Beth said, “It’s not like it matters what they have to say. They don’t even care for Y/n but for those that actually do. Right now we have no clue what her mind is going to be like. Memory Man has already given her enough damages before and considering we don’t know the full extent of his powers, we can only wait till she wakes up to see if she will actually be okay. Now if you don’t mind, I have a patient to take care of.”

Before Beth could leave, Bucky grabbed onto her arm. He gave her a look but Beth wasn’t having any of it. Ripping her arm from his grip, she stated, “Don’t Bucky. You know how much your family has hurt her. So don’t just stand there and act like they’re saints especially since you know how much Y/n needed you.”

It’s been a couple of days since the attack in New York and Y/n has since woken up. She has barely spoken to Beth, Bucky, Carol, or Fury. Although Estell’s presence would have been welcomed, Beth has yet to tell the girl the news of Estell’s death. Unfortunately, during the attack, she was shot and killed on sight by Hydra. The only reason Beth knew was from the long list of deaths she read on TV.

“We need to transport Y/n to a different location,” Fury said in a small meeting that consisted of only Bucky and Carol. “I agree. Since Hydra has managed to infiltrate the tower once, who knows when they’ll do it again.”

“That’s why a different country will do her better than here.” Fury sighed at the decision that was laid upon them. New locations will always be hard to adjust to but that wasn’t all of it. “Wanda will remain as Y/n’s guard.”

Abruptly standing from her chair, the loud screeched filled the room. “Are you serious?!” Fury’s expression didn’t change as Carol only grew with rage. “She could hardly take care of herself during the attack. What makes you think she could possibly take care of Y/n?”

“The girl was simply outnumbered. We all were.” Moving to get the file that was beside him, he slid it on the table. Bucky grabbed it and had started to silently read it. “But I need the both of you on the front lines. After what Beth has said, I need you two to make sure that the team is actually doing their job. They were supposed to have found out about Hydra’s plans before the attack, now I’m starting to think they didn’t even try.”

Carol was still angry at Fury’s decision to which he sighed. “You will know of Y/n’s location at all times. I will let her have a remote that when activated should send you a signal. Since you’re back on Earth, you’ll get to her in seconds.” Carol sat back down in her seat. Although she was still mad at Fury’s decision, she felt better knowing that Y/n could signal her for help.

“Now, I need you to say your goodbyes for now. Y/n leaves in an hour.”

Wanda stood in the foyer of the hanger as various agents loaded up the quinjet with materials that she and Y/n would need for the time they were gone. She was informed of the last-minute decision just moments ago by Fury himself.

“Please take care of her.”

The words echoed in her head as it had been the only time she’s seen Fury actually care deeply for somebody else. Before she could ponder more about it, Beth had interrupted Wanda’s thoughts. “Wanda?”

Turning around to the source of the sound, Wanda stood in front of a young blonde woman with intense eyes. “I’m Beth,” she said as she held out her hand. Wanda reluctantly shook it, not quite sure as to who this lady actually was. “I’m Y/n’s friend.”

“Great, another pretty girl I have to worry about,” Wanda thought. “Well, I’m also her nurse but I think she would consider me her friend as well.” Wanda stood awkwardly not really knowing how to respond.

Using this opportunity, Beth handed Wanda a bag full of medicine and vitamins. “I know this will be a lot to ask of you but could you please take care of Y/n?” There was no doubt in Wanda’s mind that this girl in front of her meant well. The nurturing feeling in her aura surrounded Wanda.

“That girl has been through a lot and I would know.” Confused by the intensity of her words, Wanda couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know this?”

“I’ve been her nurse for a while now.” This news only confused Wanda even more. “Was she injured before the attack?”

“What is it with you guys and not knowing a single thing about Y/n?” Beth thought. She started to get irritated at the thought of another Avenger hurting Y/n. She could only hope Wanda was different from the rest. However, Wanda heard Beth’s thoughts and said, “What do you know that I don’t?”

Beth scoffed at the question and replied, “The truth.” The simplicity of her answer made Wanda internally roll her eyes. Whether she admitted it or not, she had started to feel territorial over the fact somebody else knew Y/n better than her.

“Wanda let’s go!” Fury yelled from afar. The two looked over and saw Y/n hug Carol, Fury, and Bucky goodbye. Oddly enough, she looked emotionless when she did it. “Just please don’t fuck up again.” Wanda didn’t answer respond back to Beth because if she did, something bitchy would have probably left her mouth. Instead, she walked over and into the quinjet. She buckled into the seat closest to Y/n but the girl didn’t give any attention to Wanda. She remained silent and focused on her hands for the whole ride while Wanda thought more and more about what Beth meant.

“Now that we’re all here let’s get started.” Fury turned on the projector and the first image the was on the screen was New York on fire during the attack. “So far, we’ve received word that there have been 125 casualties and approximately around 500 critical injuries suffered from the attack.” Click.

“However, we face a bigger number when it comes to those that are currently missing. Estimating from 600 - 1000 people are found to be missing. And since we have efficiently cleared the rumble from the damages, our sources have found out how they’ve gone missing.” Click.

Footage of the event was playing but in the location of the subways. One by one, explosions could be seen in various parts of different train passages. It didn’t take long for Hydra soldiers to infiltrate the train systems but all camera footage cut to black. “Hydra has effectively taken hostages of those that were on the train during that night. They have used bombs to blast any chance of us going after them in these tunnels.”

“Is there a way to locate the subways?” Steve asked. “Since New York hardly invests in their transportation department, they are unable to track any of their subways. More than likely, Hydra has already disposed of them in case they were to be tracked.” Click.

“What we need is to figure out where these people have gone. This many hostages taken is something we cannot allow. And considering we have hardly been able to figure out their plans before the attack, I can only assume the worse when it comes to this.” Fury turned the projector off and continued his speech.

“Bucky and Carol will be removed from their current missions to assist the team with this situation. There will be absolutely no complaints about this. Any signs of lack of cooperation, I will gladly remove you and ban you from missions indefinitely.” Fury looked around the team once more and felt disgusted at the people he has to work with. Giving them no time to reply, he left the room not being able to stand the sight of them anymore.

Since they were dismissed, part of the team left in a hurry until it was down to three people. Tony was about to leave when Steve said, “Are you going to apologize to Y/n?” The question was genuine and serious because ever since that night, Steve had been unable to sleep. All he wished he could do was apologize to Y/n but the girl refused to see him. Unfortunately, he understood why.

“Why should I? It doesn’t change anything.” Steve stood up and slammed the table with his hand. “We killed her Tony.” Tony walked in front of Steve. “I didn’t do anything,” he sneered.

“Steve. Tony. We need to calm down,” Natasha said as she watched the two go at it. “Don’t act so mighty Natasha. I heard you bullied the girl too.” This comment caused Natasha’s jaw to harden. “Aww, did I hit a nerve?” Tony childishly asked. “Oh fuck off Tony. There you go again bringing other people down when you can hardly accept what you’ve done. YOU took away Y/n’s funds. She couldn’t even afford anything.”

“But you watched me do it, Rogers. You could have done something too yet you let it happen. So don’t patronize me. Nothing of what she said changes anything.” Tony quickly left the room as he felt himself explode in anger. This didn’t even surprise Steve anymore. He was tired of keeping the family together when it was clear now that it was meant to be apart.

“Here we are,” Wanda said as she dropped her bags in the living room. Looking at her surroundings, the flat was a decent size. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, living room, and accommodations on the floor below them.

“So what do you-,” Y/n hadn’t responded to Wanda’s question as she zoomed past her and walked into her room. Softly closing the door shut, Wanda sighed at her reaction. It wasn’t a surprise but Wanda still couldn’t help but feel hurt by it all. “I guess I should start unpacking.”

It’s been a couple of weeks since Y/n and Wanda started to live together in the flat located in the small town of Edinburgh. While Wanda mainly kept the place tidy, Y/n remained in her room all the time unless it was to use the bathroom or to eat. The only time she would even dare to be close to Wanda was during dinner. If it was breakfast or lunch, Y/n would take what Wanda cooked for the day into her room.

But Wanda was stubborn. She always left Y/n little notes of her whereabouts anytime she left for an errand but a small compliment would always be at the end of it. Sometimes she would knock on Y/n’s door and ask if she would want to watch a movie with her. Obviously, Y/n never answered but Wanda continued to ask. Other times, Wanda would think of Y/n’s favorite foods and would cook them for dinner that night. And while Y/n had never said it out loud, the empty plate she left in front of her always made Wanda swell with joy.

However, tonight was going to be different. Usually, the two would sit in silence as Wanda would have the tv playing in the background but Wanda needed to hear Y/n’s voice. Not only that, but she was hoping that the truth would come out as well.

Trying to figure out a way to break the silence, it was oddly Y/n that had done it first. “Why don’t you hate me?” At first, Wanda was shocked that Y/n had actually spoken, but the girl regain her composure and said, “Why would I hate you? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Y/n was silent for a moment until she said, “But I killed your brother.”

Chapter 10

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[umbran6]

The Argument Against Caleo

Spoilers up to Blood of Olympus and beyond. Beware! (Or not, the book series has been out for a few years, get over it). I wrote this after seeing a user wondering why people didn’t like Caleo, or in some cases, hated it. Here, I want to explain the answer as much as possible while doling out my own points. 

One of the main grievances I have as a fan of Leo Valdez would be the ship Caleo, or Leo x Calypso. It’s a complicated ship, to say the least, with multiple issues that make me question why people like the ship. And I admit it, they initially had some chemistry, but there’s multiple issues that Uncle Rick produced through making such a relationship that makes it extremely open to criticism, criticism which I will explain through this post.

One of my main points against them is that the ship was created on a very limited time scale. Although we aren’t given an exact date to date of when Leo and Calypso met to when they fell in love, we can safely estimate it to be a week at best. Such a limited amount of time from going through the multiple stages of a relationship already stresses the limits of the suspension of disbelief.

A counterexample would be Percabeth, or Percy x Annabeth. Throughout the series, we aren’t introduced to them being romantically involved until the Titan’s Curse, which was two years after they met. Specifically, this is brought up by Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself. Admittedly, Percy and Annabeth were twelve years old when they first met, when romance was definitely out of the picture, especially with a quest to get the Master Bolt.

However, from there we get to see multiple examples of their character depth, ranging from their respective fatal flaws to their ambitions, hopes and dreams, and their friendship. We get to see the slow build up of their chemistry, which was a really good writing move on Uncle Rick’s part. These characters took their sweet time to get to where they wanted to go, and despite the false romantic lead of Rachel, they still got together.

On the other hand, we don’t see enough of this between Leo and Calypso — we only see one book where they interacted with each other in The House of Hades, and that was only for a handful of chapters. While they are definitely older so they can jump straight to romance (some may say too old, but I’ll get to that) its still a pretty huge gap to jump through without making it stick. This makes it hard to root for a ship when it is built on a rather faulty foundation from the ‘they just met’ to ‘they get together’, especially when they don’t have a lot of events to show their chemistry.

Which brings me to Ogygia, which has raised a few red flags for me when looking at it from a retrospective point of view. Now, we know what the main issue of the island is that the hero who landed on said island can’t leave until Calypso falls in love with them. And we’ve seen this with Percy during the Battle of the Labyrinth, where he lands in the island and Calypso falls in love with him while tending to his wounds from, you know, being erupted from freaking Mt. St. Helens. Needless to say, this falling in love with each other montage happened quickly to the point of suspicion, which sets up the complication that Calypso and Leo might have fallen in love due to magical intervention.

And hear me out, because although this  might be a pretty big pill to swallow, we have evidence for this through Percy. It only takes one chapter for Calypso and Percy to meet, and the next he’s willing to consider leaving Camp Half-Blood and Annabeth behind to live on the island when Hephaestus gives him the choice to leave Ogygia or stay. We don’t even get an explanation on why Percy considered giving it all up just so he can be with her. All we know is, girl meets boy, now they want to live on an isolated island forever. It’s especially absurd considering Percy’s hamartia (fatal flaw) is freaking loyalty to those he loves.  Needless to say, It’s a huge YIKES, especially when we apply it to Leo and Calypso. 

It also raises the possibility that the romantic relationship between them is doomed to failure. And if you guys want to fight me on this, let’s look at Jason and Piper, a couple whose relationship started with a similar foundation. Piper had romantic memories implanted into her brain by Hera through the use of the Mist, while Jason was reduced to a Tabula Rasa (a blank slate for those who lack culture) by said goddess. They broke up before the Trials of Apollo because it was clear that when the dust settled, Piper had been aware that their romance was a lie and that their intentions to stay together was a mix of delusion and pressure from freaking Aphrodite. Leo and Calypso get together under what is arguably a very similar set of conditions if Ogygia’s magic had any influence on their relationship, and that this magic could wear off if given enough time. 

Third, and here’s a pretty big one for me, would be Calypso’s character, mainly because there are a lot of unfortunate implications attached to it. In The Blood of Olympus, she was turned into the divine equivalent of Princess Peach, with Leo being her Mario (except he saves her with a badass metal dragon). Its extremely unnecessary to make a character, especially as one such as Calypso, get  turned into the typical reward of a B-Class action movie. It’s insulting and puts her up as a trophy, a narrative that is definitely not ok by any means necessary.

In another direction, Calypso is also really, really worrying when things don’t go get her way. First, let’s look at The Odyssey, the first myth she pops up. Calypso had imprisoned Odysseus for ten years on her island until Hermes said to let him go, and although it gives them plenty of time to fall in love, it also raises the implications of stockholm syndrome. Then we’ve got the fact that Calypso cursed Annabeth out of spite, implicitly saying that she wished the daughter of Athena would suffer the same isolation that she did, which came to reality when Percy and Annabeth met the Arai in Tartarus. And Annabeth wasn’t even aware that she was still in Ogygia, much less intentionally intervened in the matter. When Percy left Ogygia, rather than be angry at Percy, Calypso cursed Annabeth out of all people to suffer the same loneliness and misery she went through. That’s some Hera at her worst levels of spite. 

Through such evidence we can see that Calypso is extremely wrathful towards those who break her heart even though they don’t want to. It certainly implies that Calypso isn’t in a good state of mind, and could easily repeat said actions if provoked. We could almost compare it to Medea and the original Jason, but at least in that case, Medea has every right to be pissed off at Jason and take her revenge. Calypso’s curse and how she handles things certainly implies a level of immaturity that would end in disaster if they broke up.

One issue that, I’ll admit is more from my personal point of view is that the ship took a lot of Leo’s character and threw it in the garbage in Blood of Olympus. Though we see him do a lot of stuff behind the scenes, the fact that its all for the goal of reaching Calypso just reduced him to someone who is more focused on love than, you know, fighting the evil goddess that was responsible for killing his mom and getting sweet sweet revenge. While the revenge plot can be cliched sometimes, it can be played well, while romance and the typical ‘always save the girl’ trope is just overdone. If Leo had been allowed to, you know, be more focused on other things rather than Calypso, we could have seen a lot more variety in his character.

For example as one of the possible character arcs he could’ve gone through, Leo has always been alone among the couples, often being isolated. Heck, Nemesis herself stated that he would always be the seventh wheel, and that he would never find a place among his brethren. Though some fellow tumblr users have taken this in multiple ways, either saying that he should learn to be happy by himself or that he is socially isolated in the Argo II because of these romantic relationships (I prefer a mix of both). Uncle Rick just giving him a girlfriend seems like taking the easy way out of solving such an issue and abandoning what could’ve been a rather interesting character arc. The relationship isn’t a bad thing if we remove some of the unfortunate implications, but it is a bad way to end what is a complex and realistic problem for a character and in some cases maybe possible in real life.

One more minor but still yikes worthy point is that there’s a huge age gap between them. We’re not talking about the ‘Hazel is 15 and Frank is 17 and in one year that’ll be a problem because then Hazel will be jailbait’ age gap. And even then, we can argue that Hazel is older since she is chronologically ninety-one years old. No, Calypso is older by millennia in terms of mindset and body due to the perks of being a goddess, while Leo is sixteen.

God-to-Mortal relationships are already complicated, even with emotionally and socially well-functioning adults. The fact that Leo is underage, inexperienced with romance (despite his flirting, Calypso was his first kiss), and has been through a freaking ton of trauma in his youth, does not make this okay. At best, they’re both mutually interested in each other but may have different expectations when it comes to a relationship. At worst, Calypso is taking advantage of a boy just so she can get out of Ogygia and possibly dumping him later on like the wrapping of a candy bar. Even though Calypso lost her immortality during The Trials of Apollo, that doesn’t even compensate for the immense age gap alongside Leo’s guilt at the possibility that he might’ve been responsible for her losing said immortality.

Oh, and about Leo... I’m a fan of him, but I can admit that he is in a bad spot both mentally and emotionally throughout the series. He’s lost his mom due to a mix of his own powers and Gaea’s trickery, and never had the chance to fully process that event and come to terms with it. The foster home system alongside his own trauma has forced him to hide his emotions through a façade of happiness and jokes when it’s quite clear to me he needs a therapist, stat. He's also run away from several foster homes, implying this means he was and still is being affected by the event. His mask is still on during The Blood of Olympus considering he hid a lot of things from Piper and Jason.

Speaking about them, not helping this matter is the fact that he’s rather isolated in terms of friendships since Jason and Piper, his supposed best friends are more interested in locking lip rather than, you know, actually hanging out with each other.  He doesn’t have good friendships with the rest of the Seven, and the closest ones he does have is with Hazel and Frank. And even then they start off in the wrong spot since Frank is very insecure about possibly losing Hazel to him during Mark of Athena while Hazel in the meantime, is also dealing with the fact that he is the descendant of her possible boyfriend Sammy Valdez. 

This could indirectly have made him desperate for affection since he has nobody else to confide in during the rest of the series, which is a bad mental state to be in when one lands on Ogygia, the island that we’ve seen could possibly force two people to fall in love with each other. A romantic relationship is not something that he needs or something that will help him in the future. He needs more than that, and having him in one that could end in disaster is the last thing he needs. 

And that does not make him a bad person, much less a bad character. While some who are similarly emotionally and socially isolated may turn to violence or creepy behavior on those they want affection from, Leo does not do that to the other characters. It just means that he as a character needs more time to recover and develop before we go giving him romantic relationships, much less one with Calypso.

That’s not to say that they don’t have some things in common. Both are starved for love and affection, with Calypso being constantly rejected by heroes while Leo was rejected by foster homes and his own family. It’s a trait that they have in common, but it shouldn’t be the only thing that they have in common, especially since it is laced with a trauma that is clear they haven’t had help processing. They need to develop more as characters and as friends before they should be paired together.

So… yeah. The Caleo relationship is, in my eyes, doomed to failure, or at least heavily flawed after taking the above points into account. Uncle Rick, as if seemingly aware of these criticisms, has put the relationship in a rocky place by The Tower of Nero, giving them the possibility of overcoming the above criticisms and their own flaws, or giving fanfic writers an out and pairing Leo with another character or have him single, but happy. Either way, in my opinion Caleo is a bad ship when it comes to how it was created, alongside the flaws and unfortunate implications it has.

While I can see some of the chemistry the ship has, you can’t just use a couple of moments where they get along as evidence that they belong together, especially with the above reasons. That’s like using a band-aid to cover a bullet hole without removing the bullet, stopping the bleeding, and preventing infection. If both characters and their relationship had been given more time to develop, I would understand how they would get together. 

[reidyoulikeabook]

B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling. 

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

Oh

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier.  Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

No

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

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