#but windows decided it was going to back everything up

[acosmicbee]

Rehabilitation

Your father wasn't a villain. At least, he wasn't one in your eyes. He'd always been your hero, making sure you had enough and keeping you safe. Those hypocritical heroes had no right to have stolen him from you.

Ever since a hero team had been elected into power, everything had changed. Even the slightest bit of vigilante-ism was declared as villainous activity and hero teams were allowed to use lethal force if they felt it necessary.

You refused to give in to the brain washing, especially now that you had no one. The only reason you attended school was because your government mandated family made you. The only reason you were with a governmentally mandated family was because the police somehow found out you were living by yourself.

That didn't stop you from trying to continue on your dad's legacy. You refused to let his name and all he'd done for you die with him. The first step, in your mind, was to get revenge on the hero team you felt was most responsible for his death.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Of course nothing could ever go your way. It felt like the universe had a personal vendetta against you. Fixing up some of your dad's old gear, just some simple stun guns which were kind of outdated, had taken more time than you were expecting. On top of that, you'd spent the last few months in daily detentions for refusing to praise your 'heroic' overlords. 

Because of this, the warm weather you'd based your plan around had left and winter had taken it's place with the weather to match. Not to mention that one of the heroes you were getting revenge on had some sort of ice power that only grew stronger in the winter.

All in all, you probably should've waited a little longer. Should've bided your time and held out at least until Spring. But the hatred you felt overwhelmed you. It was what led you to bundling up, hiding your makeshift weapons in your coat pockets as you snuck out through a window.

Your tried to look as casual as possible as you boarded a train for the area you knew that hero team liked to work. You tried to stay under the radar.

It worked until it didn't.

While in warm weather you could search for an extended period of time as long as you had a big water bottle, it was so cold you were worried your fingers would fall off. On top of that, the incoming blizzard was said to be harsh and bring even colder weather on top of the ridiculous amount of snow.

Even your burning hatred wasn't hot enough to bring the feeling back to your fingers so you finally decided to take shelter in a nearby cafe. At least until you could feel your fingers and toes again.

By the time you finished a warm drink and snack the state of weather had only deteriorated. On top of that, you were feeling extra miserable due to your lack of success, so you decided to head back to the train. 

You were minding your own business as you walked, glaring at the ground. You only looked up when a pair of fancy looking snow boots were blocking your path. Looking up your mood worsened, seeing the exact same ice hero you'd been worried about running into, Ice Blade. Except now, instead of fighting, all you wanted to do was go home.

"Hey kid, where are your parents?" He asked cheerily. You glared at him, stepping around him and continuing on your way. Almost instinctively your hand found your dad's old stun gun in your pocket. You made it midway down the block before he caught up to you, blocking your path once again.

"That's a little rude don't you think?" He said, with a fake pout. You went to side step him but he moved in front of you. "You look familiar though. Have I saved you before?"

"You have never saved me. Leave me alone." You grit out, continuing on down the block. Apparently heroes didn't know how to take hints because he followed after you.

"Wow, you sound really angry. Why don't I walk you wherever you're going! A kid your age shouldn't be out alone in this weather."

You carefully removed one of the stun guns from your pocket, holding it at your side. If he got too close you'd shock him, consequences be damned. Not just for your father anymore, but also because he was annoying you to an astronomical degree. 

You were about to strike when someone's hand gripped your wrist, forcing you to drop your weapon. Whipping around with a pissed off growl you were even more pissed to find the other four members of his team standing there.

"We leave you alone for five minutes and you almost get attacked by a child?" The leader, a hero who went by Gaea, asked in disbelief. You glared at her, trying to wrench your arm out of her grip.

"But look at them! Aren't they just the most adorable thing ever? I know it's bad, but I had to let them feel accomplished! I could've taken a small shock." Ice Blade whined. 

"You're going to hurt them, Gaea." Another one of the teammates said. He was the group's healer and you weren't sure what exactly his code name was.

"Gaea, that's a kid. Obviously Blade was making them uncomfortable." The last male in the group said. He was a fire hero who went by Inferno. 

"Thats good and everything but where would a kid acquire something like that?" Gaea asked, using her free hand to point towards your discarded stun gun. The last member of the group, a hero who went by Tide, picked it up.

"These look like the ones that vigilante used to use. What was his name? Strike or something?" She asked. Not only had these heroes killed him but they couldn't even be bothered to remember who he was?

"His name was Shock!" You hissed, finally pulling free of Gaea's grip. From the sidelines Ice Blade snapped his fingers grinning.

"Thats where I recognize you from! You were part of his civilian life, Y/N, right?"

"Don't you dare talk about my father!" You yelled.

"Father?! Why didn't you mention this to anyone, Blade?!" Gaea demanded, turning to face Ice Blade for a second. 

You took advantage of the moment, using your remaining stun gun on Tide. The second she crumpled your grabbed the one she'd been holding and took off running down the street. No matter what they decided to do with you now that they knew your father, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Another part of your plan you'd drastically underestimated was the fact that you, a fourteen year old, was supposed to somehow outrun five fully grown adults. Five adults who were trained to catch villains and did so on a daily basis.

Despite that, you were somehow still running. They were obviously still following you. It had started to snow and now that the sun was setting it was getting even colder. You were even more miserable as you gripped onto your stun gun.

You were freezing, tired and overall pissed off. You had been ready to go home but the stupid heroes had to ruin everything per usual.

You were almost ready to just attempt to face them head on when a few factors suddenly combined to make your day even worse. One, Ice Blade froze the ground under your feet. Two, the loss of friction caused you to slip. Three, you landed hard on your right wrist. Four, the pain in your wrist made you press down on the stun gun's power button and you accidentally shocked yourself through your jacket.

"Blade! Look what you did!" Gaea hissed. You glared at them, trying to regain your footing as the medic tried approaching you.

"Hey there kid. Can I take a look at your wrist?" 

You slid backwards, using a nearby street light to hoist yourself off the ground. Your breath was coming out in staggering puffs, visible in the cold air. Your wrist and side burned and you felt done with everything.

"Woah there. You shouldn't be trying to stand! You could be hurt really badly!" The medic tried again. You held out one of your stun guns in your uninjured hand.

"Back. Off. Don't touch me." You growled. Your entire body was shaking, both from the pain and from the cold. Your state was deteriorating by the second.

"Woah there kid. Dan's right, you're clearly not doing too hot." Inferno said. "Look, soon the blizzard will get worse and then we'll all be stuck here. So either you wear yourself out or you let us get you somewhere warm. Either way, you're coming with us."

"No! I'm not going anywhere with any of you!" Your words were a lot more hollow when a sudden gust of wind sent you stumbling. At this point your hand was shaking so much you weren't sure you could press the activation button if you wanted to.

"This is getting out of hand." Tide said, striding forward. She had fully recovered from her earlier shock and, despite your best attempts, she disarmed you easily, tossing the stun gun over to Inferno who tucked it away. The second she stuck her hand into your pocket and retrieved the second one your entire body went limp.

The cold was penetrating into the very fibre of your being, your coat and boots useless to stop it from overwhelming you. You could barely make out arms reaching for you and muffled cursing before your knees hit the ground and your vision went dark.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"We need to report them to the higher ups. They should've been put somewhere secure considering who they are and their history." Gaea said. They had just barely managed to make it back to their team headquarters before everything got snowed in. Now, they were trying to figure out what to do with you.

"Aww, I do kinda feel bad though. They're so young and didn't even really do anything." Blade pouted.

"Speak for yourself! That stun gun hurt way worse than when Shock used it." Tide said. At the name of the fallen vigilante a silence fell over them. 

"You know... Shock wasn't really that bad..." Dan said, peeking out of the room you'd been placed in. You were still unconscious and Inferno was with you, trying to help raise your internal temperature.

"I'm not saying we give up on the kid." Gaea clarified. "I think all of us have our own thoughts about Shock and how everything played out that day. Since they didn't inflict any permanent damage maybe the higher ups will let us keep them here."

"Like a rehabilitation program? I suppose that could work. It could open a new window for younger vigilantes and villains." Dan said.

"That sounds so fun!" Ice Blade smiled.

"They seem okay. I probably would've reacted the same way in their situation." Tide admitted, though she still rubbed her side where you'd managed to shock her.

"I'm alright with it. They're stable, by the way." Inferno said, emerging from your room.

"Then its decided. I'll call the higher ups now and see what we can do." Gaea announced. With that their team meeting dispersed. By the time you woke up the next day, your new life would already have been decided for you.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"I refuse!" Ever since you'd woken up in an unfamiliar bedroom, you'd been surrounded by the same heroes who had ruined your life. In fact, Gaea had just explained that you wouldn't be allowed to leave until they had 'fixed you' and deemed you 'non-dangerous to yourself and others'. On top of that, you had been handcuffed to the bed you were laying on so you couldn't even do anything.

"Well you don't get a say." Inferno said, crossing his arms. He sat at your bedside, literally radiating warmth, to help combat the mild hypothermia you'd contracted.

"You should be happy. We saved you from being sent to jail and ruining your life." Ice Blade said, frowning.

"Blade, you can't just say that!" Tide hissed, smacking him in the back of the head. The two of them began quietly bickering but you were too busy glaring at Gaea to be entertained.

"I'd rather go back to my governmentally mandated family then stay here." You said, which was an insult in your book because you hated your governmentally mandated family.

"That's too bad. Here, we need to keep your temperature up." Dan said, offering you a steaming cup of herbal tea. You refused to take it, eyeing him skeptically.

"They aren't going to take it. Let's just leave them be for now." Gaea said, grabbing Tide and Blade by their costumes and dragging them out of the room. Dan set the tea on a small bedside table while Inferno stayed at your side.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"I'm not eating that."

Gaea looked like she was about to have a brain aneurysm and Dan looked disappointed. They'd been attempting to feed you dinner, seeing as you were still handcuffed to the bed.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this. Eat your vegetables." Gaea said. She was smiling, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her.

"What if I was allergic?" You asked.

"We were sent your file, which includes all your records. You are not allergic to vegetables." Dan sighed, holding out the fork. 

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want them. You're not my mom." You huffed, turning to face the wall.

"Dan? Remind me of their age."

"Fourteen, why?"

"Because I could've sworn we were dealing with a toddler for a second." Gaea groaned. You smiled to yourself as you heard the two of them leave the room. If you could just annoy them enough then maybe they'd give up on you and let you leave.

"Y/N!" You groaned, attempting to smother yourself with the provided pillow as Ice Blade burst into the room. "Dan let me see you!"

"I really wish he hadn't." You muttered. 

"Hey! That's not nice!" You could practically hear the pout in his voice. It didn't take long for him to plop down onto the bed and attempt to rouse you.

"Leave me alone." You glared at him, almost daring him to try something.

"Nope! Dan said we aren't allowed to leave you completely alone until your actual room is finished, because this one is just temporary! I hope it's next to mine! I've never had a baby sibling before!"

"Don't call me that!" You hissed, throwing your pillow at him. He caught it, thanks to hero training or whatever, but his smile never faltered.

"Wow. I leave you alone for two minutes and they look more murderous then before." Gaea said from the doorway. She was holding a smoothie that she placed on your bedside.

"Now, this smoothie is for you. It has some nutrient powder and fruit. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you drink it all right now and we can get on with our days. The hard way is we leave you here until you're so hungry you beg for whatever scraps we may have to give you." You could tell from her tone that she wasn't joking. Seems you'd finally hit your limit. Still it was either smoothie or Ice Blade...

You swallowed your pride and drank the stupid smoothie, looking miserable the entire time. It wasn't fair that it didn't taste bad either. You hated it here and it hadn't even been a day.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

You were finally being let outside, which was rather humiliating to admit. Ever since your kidnapping, or 'rehoming' as they called it, you'd been stuck in their hero agency while they worked on fixing up a room for you and alternating patrols. However, none of them had clothes for a 14 year old, and you refused to wear anything of theirs so they'd been rewashing your clothes every day.

Therefore you were being taken shopping... with three babysitters. During the week or so you'd been trapped here you'd started to work out the dynamics between the five of them. Gaea and Dan were the exasperated parents who were stuck with a bunch of kids. 

Inferno was the emo son who was convinced that dying his hair black wasn't a phase. Tide was the middle child who got away with everything. Ice Blade was the youngest who annoyed everyone and was barely tolerated because there wasn't another choice.

Or maybe you were the youngest now... You really hoped they weren't getting attached to you, because you were still plotting ways to escape.

Right now you were being forced to hold Gaea's hand like you were a child as you waited to leave. Inferno, Blake was his civilian name, was standing to the side on his phone and Tide, Phoebe, was looking for her coat. Gaea had just insisted you call her 'mother' while out and hadn't given you her civilian name.

You refused and just decided you would never address her while outside.

"Phoebe, just wear a different coat!" Inferno, or Blake you guessed you should call him, yelled.

"I want my red coat!" She yelled back. It took her five minutes more before Gaea handed you over to Blake and found the coat in 0.2 seconds.

"Now lets go. Y/N, absolutely no funny business." Gaea said, her eyes narrowed.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Shopping was just as boring as you remembered it to be. Gaea dragged you to different clothing stores, and forced you to pick out some items from each. There were also some clothes she added to the cart that you hadn't picked.

Finally, you'd put your foot down on any more clothes shopping, so you'd been dragged to some sort of home decor place to pick out some things for your room. You were begrudgingly looking at some sheet sets, while Blake and Phoebe added unnecessary commentary.

"Ezekiel's being annoying." Phoebe said, looking at her phone. Ezekiel being Ice Blade's civilian name. You tried to wander away but Blake stopped you, redirecting you towards the sheets.

"Y/N, no. Gia said to pick at least one." Blake said to you before turning to answer Phoebe. "He's the same in and out of costume. You know that."

"No. I don't like any of them." You said. You really wanted the sheets from the apartment you had shared with your dad. Having to get all of this new stuff was off putting and overwhelming. You also took note of the fact that Gaea's civilian name was apparently Gia.

"You need to pick one." Blake repeated. You shook your head.

"No! None of them are right! I don't want any of them!" You yelled. You didn't want to start crying but your eyes burned. You couldn't explain why everything felt so wrong but you needed them to listen.

"Y/N. You are fourteen. Please do not act like a child right now." Gia said, walking down the aisle. You shook your head, trying to back away but being stopped by Blake and Phoebe.

"Fine. Then I'll pick but I don't want to hear you complain later." Gia sighed, walking over to the sheet sets and picking one up.

You just silently stood there, glaring at the ground as tears ran down your face. You tried your best to tune out the world around you, ignoring Gia's questions about whether the set was good enough. Blake and Phoebe's whispers became a quiet white noise as your ears started to ring.

You weren't sure why it was hitting you so hard now. You'd never had this kind of emotional response when you'd been placed with your governmentally mandated family. Then again, they hadn't taken you shopping, just set you up with stuff they already had. Maybe it was the fact that you were being forced to make a choice you didn't want that had finally pushed you over the edge.

You wordlessly let yourself be dragged to each section, not answering anything that was asked of you. You didn't care about blankets or sheets or decor. It wouldn't be the same as it was at your dads. It wouldn't be as perfect as it was at your dads.

"How about this?" Phoebe asked you, handing you a fuzzy blanket. You didn't react but she placed it into the cart anyway. Blake did the same when it came to a few decorative pillows. By the time you were done 'shopping' it was nearing lunch time and you were dragged to the food court to pick out something.

Blake ordered for you when you still hadn't snapped out of your mental prison, but you barely took a few bites. Food just made you nauseous and the thought of these monsters trying to replace your dad made everything worse. 

You wanted nothing more than to have this all be a bad dream you would wake up from.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

By the time you'd been dragged back to their base, you were still retreated into your mind. The mug of tea Dan had handed you when you stepped through the door had cooled in your hands. Even Ice Blade's annoying existence, Ezekiel because he was in his civilian getup, had become nothing to you.

You hadn't eaten much at the mall, or even for breakfast, but you weren't hungry. Instead you had curled up on an armchair, because Gia was busy making your new bed 'the right way'. You wanted nothing more than to disappear beneath the sheets, even if they were wrong in the worst ways, and pretend you were a kid again, waiting for your dad to come home.

You barely registered Dan sadly prying the cold and untouched mug from your hands. To you the entire world was going in slow motion. You didn't pick up on anything, much less the conversation happening in whispers right in front of you.

"They didn't even touch the tea... When did they start acting this detached?" Dan asked Phoebe.

"After Gia made them pick out some sheets. They had some sort of breakdown and well..." Phoebe gestured to your detached state. Dan let out a worried hum.

"That's worrying... I don't think they had a record of depressive episodes. Then again, the family they were assigned to after the death of their father did admit they didn't spend much time with them. Maybe they just never noticed?" Dan was frowning deeper, staring at you sympathetically.

"Well, they've got Blake stress baking so at least they'll be something to eat when they do wake up." Ezekiel said, joining the conversation with a freshly baked muffin in hand. It looked to be chocolate chip.

"Everything is set up. Is Blake in the kitchen again?" Gia asked, exiting the room that they had decided would be yours.

"When is he not? Plus, the kid is really stressing him out." Phoebe said, despite her own worried look.

"Want a muffin?" Ezekiel asked, offering his own half eaten muffin. Gia gave him a look and pushed his arm away.

"I don't understand why they're acting like this. They were perfectly fine this morning."

"I might have an idea." Blake said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of muffins. He placed the plate beside you before moving over to the others. "It could be that it made them remember their dad."

"That's why they were saying it was wrong. It wasn't just going shopping with us that was wrong, it was the sheets themself." Phoebe said. 

Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place for all of them. Every sorrow tied back to your father. Your father, who meant everything to you. Your father who they'd found dying in an alleyway from a stab wound. Your father who they hadn't managed to save. Your father, who they gotten the credit for 'taking another vigilante off the streets'. Your father, who they never tried to correct the press or government about his cause of death. 

That night had sat with all of them in different ways. Some of them had been brand new to the group, tagging along with their more seasoned peers. Some of them had just been trying to get through another patrol without incident. The truth behind that night had never left the five of them.

"Their old apartment... is there anyway to access it?" Gia asked.

"I doubt it. It's likely been sold with all the old stuff thrown out." Dan said, his tone somber. 

"I think we should at least look into it." Ezekiel said, finishing his muffin. "There could be something."

"We can at least try... for Y/N."

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

It had taken you a day or two to finally return to feeling in control of your body. Despite that, you still obviously not okay. You refused to touch the bed you'd been given, and barely even entered what was supposed to be your room.

You'd crash on the living room couch or armchair when you did sleep and it was never for long. Usually you'd get three or four hours before waking up from some sort of nightmare. Then you'd spend the rest of the night watching something quietly on the communal TV or playing around on your phone until you passed out again.

It was often for Ezekiel, surprisingly the early riser of the team, to find you curled up wherever you decide to sleep in the morning. He'd learned the hard way, with you punching him in the face and leaving him with a nasty bruise, not to wake you up.

It was clear to the whole team that you weren't doing well. There were permanent bags under your eyes and you always seemed half asleep. You couldn't even muster up the sarcasm they'd gotten used to from you.

It had gotten to the point where Dan had dragged you out to buy some laundry detergent and dryer sheets with him so you could pick out something familiar. It helped a little, but you still refused to touch 'your' bed.

Until one day, Gia announced that she had a surprise for you. So you, and the rest of the team, had been unceremoniously shoved into her surprisingly large car for a drive to some mystery location.

Phoebe was complaining over how you'd gotten shotgun, Ezekiel was begging you to play his playlist because you were closest to the aux cord. Blake and Dan were having some debate based on some show they'd watched. Gia was yelling at everyone to shut up, yet still driving perfectly and you were wishing you had a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

"Alright. Everyone except Y/N out of the car." Gia demanded once she'd stopped in front of a small cafe.

"Huh? Then where are you going and why'd we have to come?" Ezekiel asked with a pout.

"Me and Y/N are doing something special. I didn't want anyone, but especially you, to destroy the base while we're gone. Have some drinks and pastries and I'll pick you up in a bit." It still took a harsh glare from her to make everyone leave the car. You watched them entering the cafe through the rearview mirror as she sped off again.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

You were staring out the window, lost in thought, when you realized the buildings were beginning to look more and more familiar. This was your old neighborhood, the one you grew up in.

You turned to Gia, who didn't react. Instead she kept her eyes on the road, only occasionally glancing at the GPS. It was silent save for the low hum of the car. Slowly the car came closer and closer to your old apartment building.

"When I was barely eight years old," Gia started, "my parents were killed by a villain."

You stared at her as she parked the car outside of your old building. Her face had a sad expression on it as she looked at you, attempting a weak smile.

"This was in the older days, before the new government and rise of heroes. The villain escaped and wasn't caught for another three years. I remember in that time wondering what I, or my parents, had ever done to deserve that. I wanted to find that villain so bad, to avenge my parents. I tried sneaking out multiple times to hunt him down."

Your brain was trying to soak up the new information she was telling you. It was hard to imagine the uptight and serious Gia trying to sneak out to do something so dangerous. Something so similar to what you had done.

"The only reason I didn't was because the family I was placed with made sure I never did that to myself. They made sure I was safe, and encouraged me to process my feelings in less harmful ways. When it was discovered I had powers I was offered to train under some of the top heroes and I took it. I interned under the top hero team for a long time, far before they were elected to power. After that, I took over as a leader within the new generation of hero teams." Gia paused, taking a deep breath.

"What I'm trying to say is, I can understand where you're coming from. But eventually, you will need to learn to move forward. We, all of us, want to help you with that. You're destroying yourself right now. You barely eat or sleep and you're always on edge. Hopefully, what we're here for will help a little, but I need you to try your best to start to heal."

With that Gia opened her door and climbed out of the car, you following silently. You trailed behind her as she pulled out a key and led you to your old apartment.

"I called the landlord the other day. No one has rented the place yet, seeing as a lot of the people who lived here are moving towards downtown and their jobs. Because of that, the stuff you left here hasn't been touched. I want you to take what you need to feel comfortable." She said, unlocking the door. 

It looked just the way you had left it, albeit more dusty. The sight brought tears to your eyes. Photos of you, some with your dad, lined the walls. You hesitantly stepped into the apartment, tears filling your eyes as memories replayed in your head. On autopilot you walked over to your old room. 

It was just as you'd left it. Your dresser was open from when you'd been forced to pack light to be moved in with the family you'd been placed with. Your bed was still half made. Nothing had changed, like the room had been frozen in time. Slowly you walked back out into the hallway and made your way to your dad's room.

His clothes were just as he left them, neatly folded on his bed waiting to be put away. His bed was neatly made, just the way he liked it. On his nightstand was a picture of you on your ninth birthday, smiling with a plastic crown on your head. You sunk to the floor, feeling around for a lose floorboard which you pried up. Under it lay the remnants of his vigilante gear. Some grappling hooks and a spare mask. 

Picking up the mask was what made you finally break down. You sobbed, holding onto it like a lifeline. You could only hope your father was happy wherever he was right now.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Gia drove silently, her hands firm on the wheel as she kept glancing over at you. You'd fallen asleep the second you'd finished packing what you wanted to bring with you. That included a couple of sheet sets as well as a bunch of photos and clothes. 

When she picked up the rest of the team from where she'd dumped them, not one of them had made more noise then necessary, very aware that you needed the sleep. 

Back at the base Gia quietly instructed the others to grab the things you'd wanted while she went to gently lift you out of the car. She froze when you wrapped your arms around her neck, groaning at the light. 

With a smile she carried you inside to the couch. Laying you down and covering you with a fluffy blanket. Within seconds you'd fallen back into a deep sleep, completely at peace. In a few hours, all the laundry would be done and you'd finally have what you needed to feel comfortable there.

Soon you'd trust them more. Then, you'd begin to talk to them and you'd stop trying to be unnecessarily difficult. You'd have a family again and you'd never want for anything again. Not if they could help it. 

After all, once the higher ups saw that rehabilitation was a successful option, she'd petition for permanent custody. Then you'd legally be a part of their patchwork family for good.

[everlastingephemera]

la petite mort | Spencer Reid

— or the one where Spencer had (again) been gone too long, but he always makes up for it in the loveliest way possible. [Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Word Count: 3K. (Want to say) proof-read.

Content Warnings: (18+ MDNI) SMUT. SECOND-PERSON POV. No use of Y/N. Soft-dom!Spencer (if you are asking me, that is), sub!reader(?), established relationship, fingering, oral fixation (if you squint), slight overstimulation, fade-to-black smut, Spencer Reid’s a tease, who am I to go against canon?

Author's Note: Okay, listen. If my angst/fluff fanfics are one level of self-indulgent, then you cannot imagine to what level my smut fanfics can be classified as that. I wrote this in one sitting while listening to The Neighbourhood’s A Little Death because I need this man desperately. Proud of it enough to post, not proud of it enough to say that this is me at my smutty best. It was originally meant to be a fully-detailed smut fanfic, but I decided that my smut debut should be a Spencer Reid fingering fanfic. Might be more of anticipatory smut with how wordy it is, but fuck, I am a slut for detailing and the build-up, so, do with that as you please! Anyway, as always, if it’s not your cup of tea, then of course, ignore it. And if anyone happens to like it enough to interact with it, I am glad that I could deliver!

Everything had started innocently enough. Truthfully, it always did. With Spencer, each lingering glance, each creeping touch, each tender moment, all of it was almost instinctive. A rehearsed dance. A fated connection between magnets meant to attract each other. A deliberate merging of hearts, minds, souls, and bodies.

Bodies that have been together for much longer than apart, that have known each other in such intimate detail, that wilt from a thirst that cannot be adequately quenched until they become entwined again.

They say that love is stored in waiting, in the patient yearning for whatever is sure to come. You wait not because you have to, but because you cannot do otherwise. Because you don’t want to do otherwise. Because there are countless of moments that make you feel glad you are alive, but none of them can compare to the sweet embrace of the tiniest death at Spencer’s hands.

La petite mort. Literally translating to a little death. That’s how the French referred to an orgasm. A phrase going back centuries, that the English borrowed from them, not exactly or solely to be used with that reasoning.

You’d never thought of it like that ever before. How that brief window between consciousness and unconsciousness, where all senses are heightened and your mind’s focused only on feeling, not thinking, resembled death. It was Spencer who had let you in on that tidbit of knowledge (just like he had countless others), the words whispered following feather-light pressings of his lips across your body as he soothed your overwhelmed senses. You’d smiled and pulled him closer to you, welcoming the reprieve, both intellectual and sensory, that he’d offered, although you’d of course not spent any time considering the intricacies of it in that vulnerable state you were.

Since then, Spencer had touched you many, many, many times. He’d pleased you in a plethora of ways, all of which managed to drive you towards that enticing brink, pushed you over that sweet, foreign realm of sensations, only to bring you back to what you’ve always known. Sometimes it happened suddenly, without time for excess anticipation, and others extensively, as if there was all the time in the world for that dulcet built-up alone. It was all of those times that came, and the ones yet to come, though, that he did it for no other reason than he loved you infinitely, in ways that words couldn’t possibly capture quite as his body’s yearning desire for you could. Words weren’t his strongest suit, anyway. They were yours. He’d always been more practical, collecting aces up his sleeve in the form of experiments and keepsakes alike, enjoying and opting for the hands-on approaches in every aspect of his life. And with every one of them, you’d begun to understand just why the French used those words to describe that feeling.

That feeling that, although inherently sickly and pleasing as it was, became otherworldly, sacred in Spencer’s hands. A weapon you’d gladly be in the receiving end of, time and time again.

Maybe that’s why you miss him so much when he is gone, why his temporary absence haunts the marks of his ever-lasting presence on your body enough for you to physically ache. He has made a home inside of you, across each part of you, that is hauntingly empty whenever his presence is more a memory than anything else.

Maybe that’s why you’re already here now, moments after he’s found himself home from a case which had kept him away for a week, and you’ve found yourself sinking down against his forest-green bedding. 

Only you’re not reaching for the emptiness you reside with while he’s gone, but his body as he finds himself on top of you, chests colliding over thick fabrics.

“Missed you,” You mumble after he pulls back just enough for you to remove his suit jacket from his broad shoulders, “Missed you so much.”

He doesn’t waste time throwing it on his bedroom floor carelessly enough. Neither does he interrupt you as you fiddle with the buttons of his cardigan — Fuck, why did he always have to wear this many layers? — and his own hands reach to feel you underneath your oversized sweater, “I know, baby, I know. I missed you, too.”

A tiny grumble slips past your lips after you successfully remove his cardigan and unbutton the bottom part of his shirt. “Mhm, did you?”

“Of course, I did. You know I did,” His voice is heavy and husky where it vibrates against your jawline, his lips latching onto every sweet spot he has memorised, “I always miss you when I’m away.”

“You didn’t call enough…”

He sighs, gingerly lifting his head from the crook of your neck, brushing his nose against yours, “I know, baby, I’m sorry. I wanted to.” The pout on your lips after he pecks them sweetly is as adorable as your futile attempts at pulling off his tie. He’d be more than happy to kiss it all night. After all, a week away from you’s too long. He’s eager to make it up to you. “Will you let me redeem myself?”

“Please.”

He gives you a languid, tender kiss, one of those that he always turns to when he feels especially happy that you are his, before murmuring his gratitude and getting back to work. 

Yanking off his tie, it takes him mere seconds to remove his now fully-unbuttoned shirt, while your lithe fingers reach for his belt buckle. He ignores your half-hearted but very pointed comment for him to be gentle with himself, not because he doesn’t find it endearing, but because he wants to go back to touching you.

You’ve already unzipped his trousers when he ducks down again, reaching for the hem of your sweater, meeting you halfway as you assist him in finally removing it. You hug him close by his neck, your hips unconsciously starting to grind against his thigh.

“Oh, my sweet, eager girl.” He croons, nipping at the heated skin of your chest, the mounts of your breasts not covered by the thin, lacy fabric of your bra. He responds, pushing forward just enough, just the way you like, giving you what you want until you start moaning next to his mouth. 

Your desperate movements are enough for his trousers to easily join the pile of clothes on his bedroom floor, your heaving mouths refusing to part during the somewhat awkward commotion. 

The need to breathe wins both of you over eventually, and Spencer takes his time descending down your front, loving you everywhere he can with his eyes and his mouth and his hands, taking you in after missing you so much, “Tell me what you want, honey.” He asks, ever so politely, as his fingers hook under the sides of your underwear.

“Spencer!” You could almost groan from arousal and frustration and impatience all alike, your hips already canting upwards to send the excessive fabrics adorning both of your bodies to Hell already.

“Oh, baby,” The smile in his voice is evident enough, yet you still open your eyes. To see it, to see him. God, how you love to see him. “You know I’m listening, I’m always listening. Go on. Tell me. Please?”

The sole sound of that teasing plea is enough to make your hips buck, which in turn only made the corners of his lips twitch into a wider smirk. He knew exactly what to do to get you to ask for what you want. It didn’t matter that he already knew the answer. Nevertheless, you complied. You always complied. You can’t find it in you to value your dignity over your incessant need for him. Not during these moments. Not ever, honestly. 

He has you wrapped around his finger and you have him wrapped around yours. Both of you made your peace with that fact a long time ago.

“You know what I want—”

“Mhm, I do,” He hums, and his teeth graze that deviously pleasant spot in your inner thigh, fingertips burying into the plush of it, “But I still want to hear you say it.”

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

“For someone who’s looking to redeem themselves, you’re talking too much,” That groan that you kept holding back on finally made its way past your lips as your fingers tugged at his unruly curls, a little too desperately. He always liked that. “Do you really want me to say it?”

“I find your way with words to be entirely necessary for your utmost fulfilment, as well as mine, so, yes, I do.”

At that, you can’t help but giggle. Fuck, he was a vision. He was a miracle. He was an absolute dork. He was yours. You somehow still can’t believe it. 

“Fine. I want your fingers.” Your voice is all charming provocation, and absolutely no edge. It doesn’t happen often. He loves that only he gets to see you like this. Unguarded, vulnerable, desperate for something only he could give you. You were everything.

The tinge of warmth becoming apparent across his cheeks doesn’t really surprise you. You doubt it even surprises him. If it does, he’s entirely preoccupied with teasing your already soaked entrance with his ring finger.

A desperate, achingly beautiful whine escapes you, and your body seeks him out like a hunter does its prey, although he’s not exactly the preying kind. That’s usually your part of the equation.

“My fingers, huh?” His middle finger joins his ring finger in circling your slit, right as his thumb barely brushes over your clit, “Like this?”

He has barely sunk them home inside you when you gasp, and it’s already over, your eyes alight with a pleading fire as they stare down at him.

Right. Enough teasing.

He kisses you where you need him most and you melt, like you always do. You stick to him like honey, a taste so sweet that leaves him craving more. 

When he feels your warmth enveloping him, he can’t help but curse, a groan rumbling through his throat, “Fuck, baby, always so warm and tight.” He takes his sweet time pumping both of his fingers inside of you, only curling them when he feels your nails graze against his scalp, “Jesus, fuck, I’ve missed you—I’ve missed this so much, pretty girl.”

“Oh God, Spencer—” Your breath catches in your throat, and you twist the blankets next to you in your fist, desperate for a tethering of any kind. You rock your hips against his hand, feeling your entire body being set alight with impeding pleasure, “Mh—Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s—”

“I know, honey, I know,” He murmurs against your core, planting kisses everywhere he can, his dexterous fingers fucking you the way you loved, “There we go, that’s it, huh?” He can’t take his eyes off of you as you buck and burn under his onslaught of touches, “So warm, so wet. Fuck, look at you, baby. Taking everything I’m giving you so well, letting me fuck you with my fingers. ‘s been too long, huh? It doesn’t feel like this when you do it, does it?” Spencer doesn’t need you to whine out your response to know that he’s right. He can feel it in the way you clench around his fingers. He can see it in the way your heart thuds inside your chest. He can see it in the evidence of your arousal painting his fingers. Still, he smiles triumphantly at your reaction, feeling his cock twitch in the confines of his briefs. “Of course, it doesn’t. ‘s alright, I’m here now, baby, there we go. We’re going to make you feel good, just like that, yeah? There’s my good girl—”

You’re barely holding on, slipping further and further towards unfathomable bliss as Spencer’s thumb draws figure-8s on your clit, and he speeds up the pace of his fingers, his motions precise but gentle. You’re being so overwhelmingly fucked, it’s everywhere. You can feel it, you can hear it, you can see it. Through half-lidded eyes, you look down, and there is Spencer, in his blurry glory, mouth half-pressed against your skin, fingers knuckle-deep inside of you. Your nails dig in his shoulder, and he turns to kiss your thumping pulse on your wrist.

Fuck, he’s so good to you.

When his eyes meet yours, it’s enough for the knot in your stomach to twist, signalling you were very close to that oh, so sweet brink of blissful oblivion. Spencer can see it, he can feel it. Instantly, he offers you his free hand, and you take it, squeezing it tightly. “Oh my God, I’m—Spencer, I’m—” You say his name in that particularly breathless way you do at times like this, and you twist your intertwined hands on your stomach as you arch, as he anchors you down, reminding you that he is here, that you can always take it.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. Come for me—” And he doesn’t have to say it twice, doesn’t really need to give you the green light, before you see stars, your jaw falling open as you tremble while you ride out your orgasm, with Spencer’s eyes locked on you the whole time. He doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck you with perfect skill, until your hand falls limp in his grip, and it all becomes too much. That’s when he settles on kissing your hips, murmuring sweet nothings and endless praise as you slowly come to.

A few moments of you being a panting mess pass. His hand ascends over your front, tracing your hardened peaks through the black lace of your bra, until he finds your pulse point, pressing down on it with a feather-light touch to soothe you. 

You’re okay, you’re alright, you did so, so, good, baby. I love you.

Your heart-rate starts to go back to normal, and you preen. Right, reborn again after the perfect little death. 

Blindly, your chin drops, and you search for the cradle of his palm, ever so needy for the affection which to someone else might be contradictory to such an explosive aftermath of sensations, but to Spencer, has always been like second nature. He’s as gentle as he’s passionate, as careful as he’s unyielding.

A laugh escapes you, small but delirious, nevertheless, and you look at him all hazy and fulfilled and brought back from that tiny, glorious death that he both inflicted upon you and revived you from. 

He kisses you just to kiss you. So that he can taste the pleasure overflowing through and spilling out of you. You kiss him back, and sigh in contentment. When his doting fingers find your jawline, you imprison his thumb inside your mouth, and suck lightly on it.

His gaze darkens and he gulps, his free hand already creeping behind your back to work on the clasp of your bra, as your own pushes the material of his boxer briefs down between your bodies. When you’re both completely bare and still aching with love and desire, it’s his turn to chuckle softly yet deliriously.

“God, I’ve missed you so, so, so much.” 

You look at him all starry-eyed. He grins, his eyes equally soft and holding an entire universe worth of affection just for you. You take his face in your hands, thumbs tracing over the apples of his cheeks, as he settles between your thighs. You are still burning just as much as he is when he sinks inside of you, filling you up incandescently. He takes one of your hands in his, intertwining them next to your head. 

It was him that now needed to be anchored down, as you decided that the French were indeed right, but that one perfect little death with Spencer will never be enough. 

You’ll always crave more. You’ll crave death, and you’ll crave being reborn.

Again and again.

Only if it comes from his hands. 

[masorciereviolette]

Learning To Grow, Together.

Minors DNI 18+

Pairing: AU Agatha Harkness x Reader

Warnings: Soft Domestic Moments, Fluff, Vulnerable Agatha, Vulnerable Reader, Reassurance, Comfort, Soft Agatha, Cunnlings, Graphic Descriptions Of Sex, Dirty Talk,Body Praise, Time jumps, Happy Endings.

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: The Naming, The first year of life & Rio meeting the baby that was requested :))) it’s currently 2 o’clock in the morning, so please forgive any spelling mistakes!!!

Summary: After a difficult birth, Agatha brings Nicholas to the hospital the following morning to meet his baby sister for the first time. The following year unfolds in a beautiful blur of chaotic and heart stopping milestones.

Previous Part In The Series

Taglist: @ambessas-doll @milflovers4 @graceful-witch07

The sunlight poured through the hospital window in soft, pale streaks, casting long golden lines across the room. Everything felt slower that morning—gentler. Like time had decided to take a breath and let you exist within it, just for a little while.

You sat propped up in the hospital bed, a warm blanket tucked around your legs, your daughter nestled on your chest. Her skin was pink and new, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your gown, one impossibly small hand twitching now and then as she dreamed.

Her breathing was light and steady, her little lips parted, her face scrunched in that sweet, sleepy newborn way that already had you and Agatha completely undone.

You couldn’t stop staring at her. Every blink felt like a moment you’d miss something—like she might change again if you looked away too long.

The door creaked open gently. You turned your head just as you heard the faint echo of voices in the hallway—one small, eager, and just slightly unsure.

“Are we really going to see her now?” It was Nicholas. His voice bounced with excitement but had that edge of nerves he always got when he felt something was big—like the first day of school or meeting someone important.

Agatha’s voice followed, calm and low and unmistakably hers. “We are. But remember what I said—she’s very small. And momma had a very long night. So we’re going to be gentle, okay?”

“Got it. Gentle. I’m the gentlest.” You stifled a laugh, your free hand covering your mouth as you felt your daughter stir slightly at the sound. Her tiny mouth puckered before she relaxed again.

The door opened fully now, and Agatha stepped through first, a soft smile tugging at her lips, one hand resting on Nicholas’s shoulder as he peeked around her. He stopped in the doorway like he’d run into a wall of wonder. His hands clutched a slightly crumpled bouquet of purple and white flowers wrapped in dark blue tissue paper, and he looked from you… to the baby on your chest… and back again.

His eyes were wide. His mouth parted “That’s her?” he whispered after a moment, like he wasn’t sure the words would work if he said them too loudly.

You nodded, your throat tightening. “That’s her.”

Agatha gently nudged him forward with a hand on his back. “Go on, sweetheart.” Nicholas took a few small, cautious steps forward. You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the way his fingers tightened on the flowers, like he didn’t trust himself to move too quickly or too close.

When he reached the side of the bed, he looked at the baby again—then up at you. “She’s so small,” he whispered. “Like… smaller than my backpack.”

You smiled softly, brushing your daughter’s cheek with the back of your hand. “She’s smaller than a lot of things.”

“Smaller than my cereal bowl,” he added, his voice full of awe. “Way smaller than the cat.”

“She also doesn’t bite,” Agatha murmured, stepping to your other side with a quiet grin.

“Can I…?” Nicholas paused, glancing between you both. “Can I hold her?”

You exchanged a glance with Agatha. Her eyes were already damp, the corners crinkling with emotion. “I think we can manage that,” she said gently, stepping around to grab the pillow from behind your back.

She helped settle Nicholas in the chair beside the bed, stacking pillow in his lap and guiding him gently through the moment almost like she was teaching him something magical. She knelt beside him, steadying the bundle as she eased the baby into his arms.

The moment your daughter touched his chest, Nicholas’s entire body stilled. His hands, which always fidgeted, went still. His shoulders dropped. His breath slowed. And his face…His face changed.

He looked down at her with something ancient in his expression—like he had been waiting his whole life to meet her and hadn’t even realized it until now.

“Hi,” he whispered, his voice shaking just slightly. “I’m your big brother.” You reached for Agatha’s hand then. She was already offering it, already squeezing yours tight when you curled your fingers into hers.

You turned your head to look at her. She was crying. Soft, silent tears trailing down her cheeks, her other hand pressed against her mouth as she looked at the two of them. At your two children. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“She’s so small,” you whispered back.

“She’s ours.”

You couldn’t speak after that. Couldn’t say what it meant to watch him hold her, or what it felt like to see them both through Agatha’s eyes. Nicholas leaned down slowly, carefully whispering to the baby as if what he was about to reveal was top secret “I’m gonna protect you from everything,” he murmured. “Even bees. I hate bees. But I’ll still fight them for you.”

You let out a teary laugh, and Agatha laughed with you, wiping under her eyes quickly as she crouched beside his chair again.

“You want to sing to her?” she asked softly. “Like we used to?”

Nicholas nodded, still transfixed by the baby’s face. “Will she like it?”

“She already loves you,” she said. And with that, Nicholas began to hum. Quietly. Off-key and perfect. It was apparently the same lullaby Agatha used to sing to him during thunderstorms and fevers, the same one you’d curiously caught him humming to your belly months ago and inquired about later that evening.

Agatha rested her head on your shoulder. You felt her exhale—deep and full and reverent. And in that moment, you knew she wasn’t just your daughter. She wasn’t just your miracle. She was his, too. Already loved. Already safe. Already home. The room was still, like the air itself didn’t want to interrupt the moment.

Nicholas continued humming in his soft little voice, swaying just slightly in the chair with the kind of careful reverence only a child who truly understood the importance of what he was holding could have. His arms were a little tense, his chin tucked to his chest as he watched his baby sister sleep in his lap. He looked proud. And completely enchanted.

You were still holding Agatha’s hand, your thumb brushing over her knuckles as you leaned into her side. You didn’t speak.

Neither did she.

You didn’t have to.

The only sound was the rhythmic beeping of your monitors and the baby’s quiet little snuffles—until suddenly, her face scrunched. Just slightly. Barely even noticeable at first. But then a soft sound escaped her lips.

A tiny fuss. A quiet whimper. That delicate, early newborn noise that told you something wasn’t wrong—but something had shifted.

Nicholas looked up quickly, panicked. “Did I do something?”

“No, no, honey,” you said gently, already reaching trying to adjust the swaddle. “She’s just waking up.” But Agatha was already moving.

She rose smoothly from where she knelt, crossing to Nicholas with practiced hands. “I’ve got her,” she said softly, brushing a hand over Nick’s shoulder as she scooped the baby effortlessly from his lap.

Your daughter fussed again but the second she was in Agatha’s arms, the sound ceased. Her tiny head turned instinctively toward Agatha’s chest, her cheek pressing close to the soft fabric of her sweater. She let out a sigh. Like relief. Your heart cracked wide open. You watched as Agatha shifted her weight to bounce gently—barely more than a motion—but it was enough. Your daughter’s little body relaxed fully, her arms uncoiling slightly, her mouth closing.

She settled.

Just like that.

Your hand flew to your mouth, tears stinging again—these softer, warmer. Overwhelmed not by fear this time, but love. A love that stretched so far it hurt. Agatha glanced over at you, catching the look on your face. “What?” she asked gently, a smile tugging at her lips.

You shook your head, trying to hold your voice steady. “She knows you.” Agatha looked down at the baby, brushing one finger gently along her cheek. Nicholas leaned forward, watching them both with that same fascinated expression he always got when Agatha did absolutely anything.

“She really stopped crying,” he said in wonder. “Like, instantly.”

Agatha grinned at him. “Well, I am very charming.”

You snorted, wiping your eyes. “Modest, too.”

Nicholas suddenly tilted his head and asked, “So what’s her name?” The question hung in the air. Agatha looked up from the baby and met your eyes and you both went still. You opened your mouth… and then paused.

Because the truth was, you hadn’t picked one yet. Not really. Not fully. You’d had ideas, of course—soft little nicknames, things you called her when she kicked you too hard or shifted in the middle of the night. “Bean.” “Little Star.” “Bug.” Agatha had gone through a phase of calling her “Squish” which had made you laugh every single time. But a name? A name meant permanence, a name was the beginning of her story.

You looked over at Agatha slowly, half-laughing. “We never actually… decided, did we?” She blinked, then let out a low, embarrassed chuckle. “We really didn’t.”

Nicholas gasped. “You mean she doesn’t have one?!”

Agatha tilted her head. “She technically has multiple.”

“Not real ones!” he argued, holding up a finger. “You can’t just write ‘bean’ on her birth certificate!”

“She could be the first,” Agatha muttered under her breath, and you nearly choked on your laugh.

“Okay,” you said, placing your hand over your heart like you were swearing an oath. “We are going to name her. Today.”

Nicholas perked up. “Can I help?”

Agatha gave him a look. “Only if the name is not cartoon or dinosaur-related.”

“No promises.” You smiled as you watched them bicker affectionately while your daughter snuggled deeper into Agatha’s arms, unaware of how completely she had already changed your world. You knew no matter what name you chose—she would grow up wrapped in the kind of love most people spent lifetimes searching for.

Nicholas was the first to leap into action. “I have so many ideas,” he said, already reaching for the notepad in his backpack like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Okay—what about Starflower?”

Agatha arched a brow. “Is that a name or a moon goddess?”

“Yes,” he answered quite seriously.

You smiled, reaching out to adjust your daughter’s blanket. “Maybe something a little more… grounded?”

He frowned at his notepad. “Okay, okay. What about Willow? Or Lark? Or Indigo! Indigo’s cool. You could call her Indy, like a spy.”

“I think we’re leaning less spy thriller, more ‘fits on a birth certificate,’ baby,” you said gently.

Agatha nodded, pacing slowly with the baby still curled against her chest. “And I’m vetoing anything color-based unless we want to be known as that family.”

Nicholas sighed dramatically. “Fine. What’s your idea then?”

Agatha pursed her lips. “Lillian?”

“Too fancy,” you said immediately. “Sounds like she’s going to grow up judging wine pairings.”

“She might.”

“She’s drooling on your collar, Aggie. Let’s take it one milestone at a time.”

Nicholas giggled as Agatha rolled her eyes and turned to you. “Okay, then what about Eloise?”

“Too prim.”

“Clementine?”

“Too citrus.”

“Rowan?”

“Too Annoying.”

Nicholas made a face. “That sounds like the name of a kid who eats paste on purpose.” Agatha smothered a laugh.

You sighed and leaned back into your pillow, watching your daughter’s tiny chest rise and fall against Agatha’s shoulder. “I want something strong. Not overused. Something… old, maybe. Elegant, but not stiff.”

Agatha nodded thoughtfully, her gaze distant as her fingers walked a quiet rhythm across the baby’s tiny back. It was a slow, protective gesture—tender and full of reverence. “Something with softness and steel,” she murmured, almost more to herself than to you. “Something that bends, but doesn’t break.”

“I like that,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment settle over your shoulders like a warm blanket. The hush in the room was sacred, a silence shared between the four of you—Agatha, Nicholas, the baby, and you—bound by something deeper than blood.

You stared at your daughter, utterly taken. And then, as if pulled from some secret corner of your heart, you spoke again. “What about Maeve?” You said it softly, carefully, like the name was fragile and precious and needed to be tested against the air. “It’s Irish—it means ‘she who intoxicates.’ But in Latin…” You smiled faintly. “It can also mean ‘purple flower.’”

Agatha stopped pacing. The air shifted. Nicholas’s head tilted. “She who… what now?”

Agatha turned slowly, brow lifting, a familiar smirk blooming at the corner of her mouth. “Intoxicating,” she repeated, her voice like velvet. “Irresistible. Powerful.”

“It’s mythic,” you added. “Royal. She was a warrior queen who ruled with strength and grace.”

Your eyes never left your daughter’s face. Her soft lashes fluttered in sleep, her tiny chest rising and falling against Agatha’s. “And the flower part,” you said gently, “it make me think of you.” Agatha blinked.

“A purple bloom. Vivid. Striking. A little wild. Something that grows where most things wouldn’t dare.” You smiled at her, heart aching with love. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence. It’s like she came into the world already carrying a piece of you.”

Agatha looked down at the baby again, her features shifting—something between wonder and fear and awe. Her fingers moved to sweep a soft curl away from the baby’s temple. “Maeve,” she whispered, tasting the name like it was made of magic. Like it had always been waiting for this moment.

And then, right on cue, Maeve shifted ever so slightly, sighing into her mother’s chest with a soft, contented nuzzle. Like yes. That was her name. Agatha smiled, her lips parted just slightly. “Maeve,” she said again, stronger this time, letting it roll from her almost as if she was casting a spell. “It suits her.”

Nicholas grinned from his perch at the edge of the bed. “Maeve’s cool. Can I still call her Squish, though?”

Agatha shot him a teasing glare. “Only until she’s old enough to fight you on it.”

“Deal,” he said proudly. You let the moment unfurl around you, something sacred blooming in your chest. Everything felt full—your hands, your heart, the air itself.

“Maeve,” you whispered again. And then, so softly it nearly caught in your throat “Maeve Nikalette.”

Agatha’s gaze snapped to yours, her expression melting into something raw and open. “After Nicholas?”

You nodded, emotion thick in your chest. “I want her to carry a piece of him too. Just like he’s already carrying a piece of her.”

Agatha’s lips parted, her breath trembling. Her eyes glossed over, but she didn’t look away from you. “That’s perfect,” she breathed.

Nicholas was glowing, practically vibrating with joy. “Wait, I’m part of her name? That’s so cool.”

You reached over, ruffling his hair with a soft laugh. “Of course you are. You’re her big brother. She’s lucky to have you.”

“She’s the lucky one,” he said with quiet pride. “She gets all of us.”

You glanced at Agatha again. “Harkness,” you said firmly, reaching for her hand. “She belongs to you, too.”

Agatha’s fingers slid into yours and squeezed. “Maeve Nikalette Harkness,” she murmured, her voice low, reverent. And when the baby stirred again—her tiny fist curling, her lips parting in a drowsy sigh, as if the sound of her name had anchored her to the world—You knew you’d gotten it right.

Nicholas leaned over the bed, eyes warm and bright. “Welcome to the family Maeve,” he whispered with all the gravity of a king knighting his bravest subject. Agatha looked at you—really looked at you and you saw it in her eyes. She was thinking the same thing you were.

So do I.

Forever.

It was a quiet Saturday morning, almost a full month after you’d been discharged from the hospital. Rain tapped gently against the windows, the clouds outside casting the house in a warm, silvery kind of dimness that made the living room feel like a tucked-away secret from the rest of the world.

Maeve was nestled between you and Agatha on the couch, bundled in a soft yellow onesie that still felt impossibly big on her tiny frame. Her eyelids fluttered open and shut in that sleepy, milk-drunk daze, her little hands curled near her chin like she was already dreaming of something sweeter than you could imagine.

Nicholas sat cross-legged on the rug in front of her, holding a picture book open in his lap—his voice rising and falling with careful effort as he read aloud about a raccoon who thought the moon was a cookie. He added different voices for each page, even making little “oooh” sounds for the moon. He was trying so hard to entertain her, and it was impossibly endearing.

Then it happened. Mid-sentence, as Nicholas flipped to the next page and said, “And the raccoon reached up with his paws and—” Maeve let out the tiniest coo and smiled. Not gas. Not twitching. A smile. Wide and gummy, eyes squinting just the tiniest bit. It was fleeting, clumsy, completely uncoordinated—and absolutely real.

Nicholas gasped so loudly he startled her. “Did you see that?! She likes my voice!”

You felt your breath catch. She’d smiled before, in her sleep. Maybe. But this was different. This was intentional. This was hers. “She did,” Agatha said softly, already reaching over to tuck a blanket higher over Maeve’s belly. “That was her very first smile.”

You looked across the couch at her, tears instantly stinging your eyes. Maeve was curled right between you both, her head gently turned toward Agatha, one of her little fingers caught in the hem of Agatha’s shirt.

And before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—quiet, reverent “She’s really ours.” Agatha turned toward you, her eyes shining.

She whispered it back like a promise. “She’s really ours.” And for a second, that was everything. But then, that familiar ache began to creep in. You tried to ignore it like always, blinking down at Maeve as her eyelids fluttered again, a soft hiccup shaking her chest.

But Agatha noticed, she always did.

Her hand brushed yours gently where they met over the baby’s tiny legs. “Hey,” she said, her voice low and knowing. “Where’d you just go?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Nowhere.”

She cocked her head. “Liar.”

You looked back down at Maeve, whose mouth was now forming that pouty little “o” shape you’d come to recognize right before a nap—or a cry. “It’s just…”

You sighed. Agatha didn’t push. So you took a breath and admitted, “You’re just… so good at this.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“All of it.” Your voice wavered, the admission heavier than it should’ve been. “The swaddling, the soothing, the feeding schedule, reading her cries. It’s like you always know what she needs before she even makes a sound.”

Agatha looked at you like she hadn’t even considered that. “I’ve just done it before,” she said gently.

You shook your head. “But even then… You’re calm. You always know what to say to her. You handle her like she’s made of light, and I…” You trailed off, voice cracking. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going to break her.” Agatha’s expression softened into something heartbreakingly tender.

She slid closer, wrapping her arm behind you so she could rest her hand on your waist. “Hey. Look at me.” You hesitated, but did.

Her voice was warm, full of something so honest it cracked the shell of your worry. “The only reason I seem calm is because I had to learn how to do this before, and under much more stressful circumstances. When I had Nicholas the fear and instincts that came clawing out of nowhere honestly stunned me.”

She let out a breath, glancing down at Maeve, who was now sighing softly in sleep, her little body sinking deeper into the nest of blankets.

“This is new for me too,” Agatha continued. “Because back then, I didn’t think I’d ever have another child. Hell, I didn’t think I’d ever want to. And now… I have you. I have her. I have him.” She tilted her head toward Nicholas, who was now reading quietly to himself, still watching Maeve with cautious pride. “And none of it feels like I expected.”

You leaned into her touch, your shoulders sinking just slightly. “You really didn’t think you’d do this again?”

She shook her head. “Not in a million years. Not with someone I love this much.” You looked at her then, really looked and of course she was already watching you. Her gaze didn’t waver. It never had. “You’re doing better than you think,” she whispered. “You’re not going to break her. You’re not even close.”

“I just… don’t want to fail her,” you murmured. Agatha leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You won’t. Because you love her. And you try. That’s all she needs.” You turned your head into her shoulder, eyes still wet, your heart swelling so fast it almost hurt.

Maeve let out a little squeak in her sleep. Both your heads snapped down at once—then met each other’s gaze again with small, knowing smiles. “She sounds like a duck,” you whispered.

“She sounds perfect,” Agatha corrected with a soft laugh. And for the rest of that rainy morning, you sat pressed together on the couch, your baby sleeping soundly against the warmth of your bodies, Nicholas occasionally glancing up to point out which animal in his book Maeve would probably grow up to be. ‘Not a duck. Something cooler. Like an eagle. But, like, a cute one.’

You didn’t feel like you had it all figured out. But you didn’t need to. Because you had each other. And she has the both of you. And for now that was everything. By Five months , Maeve had officially entered her feral potato era, as Agatha lovingly called it—equal parts squish and chaos.

She’d been teetering on the edge of mobility for a few weeks, her legs kicking wildly every time she was placed on her back, frustration brewing in her little grunts and squeals. But it finally happened one sunny morning when the windows were open and the scent of toast drifted in from the kitchen.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sipping lukewarm coffee, watching her play on her blanket—chubby legs kicking, fingers flailing at the little stuffed fox Nicholas had picked out for her. Agatha was beside you, chatting on the phone with a coworker about court dates and filing schedules when Maeve’s legs tucked up under her… and she rolled forward.

All the way.

Like it was nothing.

And then laughed. Loudly. Brightly. Right before face-planting into Agatha’s lap and drooling directly onto her blouse. Agatha blinked, phone still in hand, and stared down at the wet spot spreading across her shirt.

“She’s mobile,” she said flatly into the phone. “I have to go. She’s learning. We’re doomed.” You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your coffee as Maeve let out another delighted squeal and patted Agatha’s knee like she’d done something brilliant.

Nicholas came flying in from the hallway, eyes wide. “What did she do?! Did I miss it?!”

“She rolled into me,” Agatha deadpanned. “Like a sentient cannonball.” Maeve laughed again, proud and shameless.

Later that afternoon, the apartment smelled like maple syrup and baby lotion. You stood in the kitchen, balancing Maeve on your hip as she gnawed relentlessly on a silicone teether that had lost its shape hours ago but remained her greatest enemy. The griddle sizzled with pancakes as you absentmindedly bounced her, and from behind, you heard the familiar tap of socked feet.

Agatha leaned against the doorway, coffee in one hand, the other twirling idly with the strings of her robe. Her hair was messy, her blouse dotted with faint drool stains, but her expression was amused—eyes fixed on you and the baby like she was watching her favorite show.

“You two are dangerously cute,” she said casually, sipping her coffee. “I’m beginning to feel like the third wheel in my own home.”

“She’s the one clinging to me like a koala,” you replied, adjusting Maeve’s grip as she squawked and kicked out one leg dramatically.

Agatha stepped closer, her voice shifting to that exaggerated, mock-soothing tone she only used to get a rise out of the baby. “Oh, what’s the matter, you little tyrant? World not bending to your will today?” Maeve let out a shrill giggle, drool dribbling down her chin.

Agatha gasped. “She thinks I’m funny. Did you hear that? I’ve been validated.”

You laughed, flipping a pancake. “You say that like you weren’t already the most dramatic person in the room.”

“I’m not dramatic. I’m expressive. There’s a difference.” Maeve squealed again, kicking hard enough that her sock fell off. Agatha set down her coffee and walked over, crouching beside the of the two of you with exaggerated care.

“Alright, Squish,” she murmured, her tone lowering into something far softer than her sarcasm usually allowed. “Let’s get you patched up before your poor foot freezes off in this frigid domestic tundra.”

She kissed the bottom of Maeve’s bare foot before pulling her sock back on with gentle hands and standing. Your daughter—your chaos-bringing, sock-losing, teething little storm—calmed. Just like that. Her eyes locked onto Agatha’s face like she knew. Trusted her. Her mouth relaxed, her fingers slipping from your shoulder as she leaned forward into Agatha’s chest, resting her forehead there with a small sigh.

Agatha blinked, catching her weight and bring Maeve into her arms. Then glanced up at you. And for a beat—just a breath her usual wit melted away. “She… always does that with you,” you said softly.

Agatha smiled, slow and stunned, brushing her fingers through Maeve’s soft curls “She knows I’d burn the world down for her,” she murmured. “Just like I would for you.” Your heart clenched.

Before you could speak, Agatha looked up with that familiar sparkle in her eye, lips twitching into a smirk. “But sure, go ahead and keep cooking pancakes. I’ll just be over here forming soul bonds with the baby.”

You grinned through the warmth in your chest. “Oh, absolutely my dear. Enjoy your little coven of two over there.” You hummed teasingly. Maeve babbled in response, simply reaching for Agatha’s necklace and tugging lightly.

“Careful,” Agatha whispered, adjusting Maeve fully into her arms and cradling her with practiced ease. “That was a gift. You break it, and you’re buying mom a new one.”

You watched them from the stove—Agatha swaying gently, Maeve’s head tucked against her shoulder, eyes already drooping again. And in that moment—Agatha’s voice humming softly, her chin resting atop your daughter’s head, her sarcasm tucked away like a blanket around something delicate—you realized something else.For all her sharpness, her wit, her self-assured control—Agatha was smitten. And she didn’t even try to hide it.

That night, Nicholas went to bed after giving Maeve three forehead kisses and insisting on leaving his nightlight on “for her, just in case she needed to fight off dream monsters.” He peeked back around the doorway one last time before disappearing, whispering, “Goodnight Squish”

You and Agatha ended up on the couch hours later, long after the house had settled into its usual late-night hum. Maeve was nestled between you, her tiny body sprawled across both your laps, arms up, one leg curled, the other kicked straight like she was mid-stretch. Her belly rose and fell with each breath, her lips parted in the softest sighs.

Agatha ran her fingers down Maeve’s back in slow, soothing circles, her other hand resting atop yours. “She sleeps like she knows she’s safe,” she whispered.

You looked at her. “She is safe.” Agatha glanced at you then. And the look that passed between you—quiet, wordless—said everything.

“I watch you with her,” she murmured after a moment, “and I fall in love with you all over again.”

You blinked, the words catching you off guard. “Me?”

Agatha nodded, her eyes dropping back to Maeve’s peaceful face. “You hum to her when you think no one’s listening. You mouth the words when Nicholas reads to her so she can follow along. You hold her like she’s still apart of you—which she is. But it still amazes me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I feel that way when I watch you.”

She smiled. “We’re ridiculous.”

You leaned your head against her shoulder. “We’re lucky.” And in that quiet, sleepy moment, with your daughter snoring softly between you and Agatha’s fingers still brushing yours. You were so extremely thankful.

Six months had passed and still, you couldn’t stop looking at her. At both of them. Like the miracle never stopped being one. Maeve decided to pull herself up for the first time in the middle of breakfast—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You were sitting at the table, one hand wrapped around your coffee, the other lazily picking pieces of toast onto a plate. Maeve was on the floor at your feet, chewing on a soft fabric book that had become her favorite teething toy. Nicholas was chattering about dinosaurs again, gesturing wildly with a spoon full of oatmeal.

Agatha was standing at the kitchen counter, halfway through buttering toast when she froze mid-motion, her eyes narrowing. “Is she—?”

You looked down. Maeve’s tiny hands were gripping the leg of the table, her knees tucked under her, her little forehead crinkled in determination. And then—slowly, wobbly, triumphant—she stood. Straight up, legs shaking like jello, the biggest drool-dripping smile on her face.

Nicholas screamed like someone had scored the game-winning goal at the World Cup. “SHE’S STANDING! SHE’S DOING IT—SHE’S—” His clap was so loud that Maeve flinched, lost her balance, and landed right on her butt with a startled plop.

There was a beat of silence. Then Maeve blinked… and started laughing. Nicholas dropped to his knees. “I’m so sorry bean, I didn’t mean to scare you! But you did it! You stood up! You were, like, vertical!”

You dropped down scooping her up before she could wobble again, hugging her to your chest as she squealed and flailed her legs proudly. Agatha crossed the room, crouched in front of the two of you with a smirk, brushing a crumb from Maeve’s chin. “She’s mobile. She’s smug. We’re screwed.”

You laughed, kissing the top of Maeve’s head. “She’s so smug.”

Agatha reached out and gently tapped Maeve’s nose. “She gets it from me.” For the next three hours, you and Agatha took turns trying to get her to do it again.

“Okay my love,” you coaxed gently, holding your phone up to record. “Let’s show Mama how brave you are.” Maeve smiled sweetly.

Then sat there like a rock. Agatha tried next. “Come on, lovebug. I’ll let you chew on my necklace for a full minute. No judgment.”

Maeve gave her a look. The kind that said you wish—then let out a single, dramatic yawn and rolled onto her back like she had never stood a day in her life. “Is she gaslighting us?” Agatha muttered, arms crossed.

“She’s literally six months old,” you replied, laughing.

“And she already plays us like a fiddle.” Agatha huffed stubbornly.

By seven months, her personality had bloomed like wildflowers in spring. She babbled constantly now—nonsense syllables that filled the air like background music. Mamama. Gahhh. Bababa. Nanana. She strung them together with deliberate intent, even if they didn’t quite make sense yet.

But she had looks. She had a look for everything now—each one specific, like a custom expression just for the three of you. When she was hungry, she furrowed her brows and opened her mouth like a fledgling bird—glaring if you took too long. When she wanted Agatha, she did a full-body reach toward her, arms out, legs kicking, face scrunched like why are you making me wait, I want that one. And when she wanted you—her whole face lit up. It was pure sunshine. Pure you.

Agatha caught it once on a quiet Tuesday morning. You had Maeve on your hip, bouncing gently as you prepped a bottle. She was babbling up at you, her tiny fingers clinging to the collar of your sweatshirt, eyes wide with absolute focus.

Agatha, sitting at the kitchen counter mid-email, stopped suddenly. Her fingers froze over the keys. She stared at Maeve. Then at you. “She made that sound just for you,” she whispered, almost stunned.

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“She says a dozen things every hour,” Agatha said softly, eyes misty. “But that sound—the little one she just made? That was different. That was yours.” You glanced down at your daughter, who was now gnawing on her fist, still watching you with laser focus.

And you knew.

You felt it.

“I think she made all of this for us,” you whispered. Agatha’s gaze flicked up to yours, and something passed between you—warm and heavy and full.

She set her laptop aside, rose from her stool, and crossed the kitchen to press a soft kiss to your temple, her hand resting briefly over Maeve’s back. You didn’t need to say more.

At eight months, Maeve started to decided bedtime was optional. She would fight sleep with the sheer willpower of a tiny, overstimulated warrior—rubbing her eyes angrily, flailing in your arms like a diva on her final tour.

Agatha tried to reason with her once “Darling,” she said firmly, holding her close in the rocking chair. “You’ve had three bottles, six songs, and you’re not missing anything. Trust me, your mother and I are just going to fold laundry and argue about pizza toppings.”

Maeve replied by sticking her tongue out and smacking Agatha in the chest. “She’s her own woman,” you said from the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“She’s a terror gremlin,” Agatha muttered. But she was smiling—because when Maeve finally did collapse, cheek to Agatha’s shoulder, tiny fists curled against her chest Agatha’s whole world stilled. You watched from the hallway, your arms crossed over your chest, your heart aching with love. You’d never seen her look so soft.

By nine months, Maeve had mastered crawling. At full speed. She chased after Nicholas’s shoelaces with glee. She learned how to open the bottom kitchen drawer (which she only ever used to store her favorite spoons). She crawled right into the cat tree one afternoon and refused to come out.

“Should we be worried?” you asked.

“No,” Agatha said, sipping her tea. “She’s claiming territory.”

“She gets that from you.”

Agatha smirked. “You’re not wrong.” She wasn’t speaking actual words yet—but she was saying everything. You knew her sounds now. You knew her sighs. You knew the difference between I’m tired, I’m bored, and someone took my foxy and I demand justice.

Nicholas translated most of them like an enthusiastic interpreter. “That means she wants the purple spoon, not the yellow one. Duh.” You and Agatha didn’t correct him. Because the truth was—you were all learning her language.

And Maeve? She was becoming herself, one day at a time. And you were falling in love with her more every single one.

It was a rainy Sunday morning—the kind where the world outside the windows blurred into gray and the sound of water tapping against the glass felt like a lullaby. The house was warm and lazy, filled with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and something sweet Agatha had half-heartedly attempted to bake before getting distracted by Maeve’s relentless need to rearrange the Tupperware cabinet.

You were all in the living room, the floor scattered with soft toys and mismatched socks, a few blankets half-folded and Nicholas’s stuffed sloth propped like a cheerleader on the couch. Maeve had been circling the coffee table for weeks now, pulling herself up with that determined little grunt, her legs wobbly but her eyes fierce.

And then—suddenly—she let go. Nicholas noticed it first. He was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, the sloth held out in both hands like an offering, his voice soft but bubbling with excitement. “Come on, baby bean. You got this. Just a few steps.”

Maeve stood there for a moment, blinking, like the ground beneath her was new. Her little fists were balled at her sides, her tongue poking between her lips in concentration.

One foot forward.

Then another.

Then one more.

Three steps.

And then—

Straight into your arms.

You dropped to your knees so fast the carpet burned, catching her just as she squealed, burying her face into your shoulder like she knew she’d just done something monumental.

Your hands trembled as you held her tight, tears springing to your eyes before you even realized you were crying. “Maeve,” you breathed, “You did it, baby—you walked.”

She pulled back and grabbed your cheeks in both of her tiny, sticky hands, giggling like she’d just performed on stage and now expected applause. You laughed through your tears, heart pounding, cheeks aching from smiling.

Behind you, there was a loud clatter—Agatha’s coffee mug hit the floor, miraculously bouncing off the rug without shattering. She stood frozen, one hand still outstretched, her mouth parted in stunned silence. Nicholas turned to her, eyes wide. “She walked, Mom! She walked all the way to—”

Agatha dropped to the floor beside you before he could finish, reaching for Maeve with shaking hands. “You little traitor,” she whispered with a teary grin. “You waited until I was holding a mug?”

Maeve babbled proudly in response, reaching for Agatha’s hair like she was demanding immediate praise and cuddles.

And Agatha gave both. She scooped Maeve into her lap, kissed her over and over, laughing through her tears. “You absolute wonder of a girl. You couldn’t have warned us first?”

Nicholas flopped dramatically onto the rug beside her, arms thrown in the air. “I told you! She was ready! I’ve been training her!”

Agatha leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re the best coach she could’ve asked for.”

All four of you ended up on the floor—Maeve squirming proudly between you and Agatha, Nicholas curled lazily against your side, a blanket draped haphazardly across your laps.

The storm outside was gentle now, the rain tapping softly against the windows like a lullaby. Maeve babbled in between giggles, her tiny hands bouncing from your chest to Agatha’s arm as if she couldn’t decide who to cling to more. Like she needed both of you. Like the only way to feel grounded in the world was to have one hand on each of you—her home base.

No one moved for a while. The world felt perfectly still. Safe. You watched her, this curious, bright, fearless little girl you somehow had the honor of calling yours. And all you could think was—That’s my daughter. Your miracle. Your world. You were going to miss this—this version of her, so new and soft and wonder-filled. You already missed it, and it hadn’t even ended yet.

You felt Agatha shift beside you. Her hand brushed the base of your spine before settling there gently, her touch steady. Warm. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. But when you turned your head to glance at her, you found her already watching you. Of course she was.

It was the same look she had given you in the hospital the night Maeve was born—equal parts awe and love and disbelief. The same look she gave you every time she was overwhelmed by the staggering truth of this life. This life. Not one conjured from guilt or grief, not some imagined version of what could’ve been. This one. Yours. Together.

And when your eyes brimmed with tears and your smile turned soft and a little shaky, she leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. Her voice dropped into the hush of the moment, quiet and reverent. “You’re everything.”

Two weeks later, you were still trying. You and Agatha had both been shamelessly bribing Maeve to say one of your names. Mama, Mommy, Mimi, Baba, Ma, Agatha—even had been jokingly thrown into the mix. Maeve, of course, found it endlessly hilarious.

She babbled constantly. Joyfully. Sometimes even with a rhythm that almost sounded like a word. She’d squeal at Nicholas, laugh when you or Agatha sang her name, and erupt into delighted shrieks every time you overreacted to her nonsense sounds like she’d just recited a Shakespearean monologue.

But no matter how hard you both tried, nothing stuck. “She’s doing it on purpose,” Agatha grumbled one morning, holding her upside down by the ankles while Maeve giggled uncontrollably. “This is psychological warfare.”

You’d laughed and shrugged. “She’s smart. She knows we’re desperate. Desperate and weak.” But that Sunday… everything changed. You’d only stepped out for twenty minutes.

Nicholas was curled up on the couch with a comic, Agatha was folding laundry by the playpen, and Maeve had been busy running her usual laps across the living room, her feet a blur of squeaky socks and chaotic energy. And then—Agatha heard the fall. It wasn’t loud, but it was fast. That unmistakable thump followed by silence. And silence, when it came to Maeve, was never a good thing.

Agatha spun around. Maeve was on her hands and knees, stunned. Her lip trembled. One shoe had flown off mid-run, and her elbow was scraped just enough to turn her face red. Her breath hitched as her little body began to shake—And then the cry came.

Loud. Heartbroken. Not from pain, not really.But from confusion. From panic. From need. She turned her head sharply and locked eyes with Agatha, her chest heaving. And then, clear as glass—“Mamaaaa!”

Agatha froze, everything in her went still. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught. She dropped the towel in her hands, her legs suddenly jelly beneath her. Because she had never said it before. Not once.

Not a single real word. And now, out of the blue—now, when she was hurt and scared and looking for someone to make it better—

She’d called for her. “Mamaaa,” Maeve wailed again, sobbing now as she tried to crawl toward her. Agatha surged forward, scooping her up so quickly her own breath hitched with the motion. “I’m here, baby—I’m right here,” she whispered, clutching her close, Maeve’s face tucked into the crook of her neck, tears soaking through the collar of her shirt.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay, Mama’s got you.” She said the word like she couldn’t believe it had been meant for her. Like saying it again would prove she hadn’t imagined it.

Nicholas looked up from the couch, wide-eyed. “Did she just—?”

“She did,” Agatha breathed, voice cracking. “She said Mama.”

“She picked you first?” he teased gently, then grinned. “Nice.” Agatha didn’t laugh. She was too busy burying her face in Maeve’s hair, too overcome to speak.

By the time you got back—plastic bag of diapers slung on your wrist you found them on the couch, Maeve curled against Agatha’s chest, her sniffling quiet now, thumb in her mouth. Nicholas met you at the door with a wide, almost reverent grin.

“She said it,” he whispered. “She said Mama.”

You froze mid-step. “What?” You turned toward Agatha, who was staring down at Maeve with the kind of look people usually reserve for miracles.

Her eyes were wet. Her hand cradled the back of Maeve’s head, holding her like the most precious thing in the world. “She said it,” Agatha repeated, her voice low and reverent. “She called for me.” And the way she said it the way she looked at you—shattered something soft and ancient in your chest. You crossed the room, sliding onto the couch beside her, wrapping your arms around both of them.

“She picked the perfect first word,” you whispered, kissing Maeve’s temple, then Agatha’s shoulder.

Agatha smiled, still stunned. “I don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.” Maeve stirred sleepily, half-waking at your voice. Her thumb slipped from her mouth, and in the tiniest, groggiest whisper, she murmured it again:

“Mama��” And Agatha’s hand flew to her mouth.

You whispered softly leaning closer, like it was gospel “She really meant it.” And when Agatha looked over at you again—eyes shining, heart laid bare you could see it there

This. This is what she was born for.

The house was quiet in a way it rarely ever was these days. Nicholas was spending the week at Rio’s, and Maeve had gone down almost too easily—tucked into her crib with one last sleepy sigh, her chubby hand still clinging to the ear of her stuffed fox as she drifted off. That had been over an hour ago, and the baby monitor on the nightstand sat in calm, glowing silence.

Now, you stood alone in the bedroom wearing only an open robe and a pair of sheer underwear, your eyes fixed on your reflection in the full-length mirror beside the dresser. The soft amber light from the bedside lamp cast warm shadows over your bare skin. You had your arms crossed beneath your chest, fingers tracing the lines, your brows drawn together.

You’d lost the baby weight. That wasn’t the issue. Not really. But the stretch marks remained. Jaggy silvered streaks stretched across your hips, faded but still visible, cutting through the softness of your lower belly like quiet reminders. A body changed by something extraordinary. And yet, you couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered on them.

You traced them absently with your fingers. Even now—even after everything, you felt… small beneath the weight of your own scrutiny. You knew what they represented. Knew the miracle your body had made. But that didn’t silence the inner voice that asked—Would she still want you the same way?

A soft creak of the floor behind you made your head snap up. Agatha stood in the doorway, her hair pinned up loosely, a book still in her hand, pajama pants tied low on her hips. She hadn’t said a word. She didn’t have to.

You met her eyes in the mirror. She took one look at your expression and crossed the room in quiet steps, placing the book gently on the nightstand before stopping just behind you. Her hands slid slowly around your waist, resting at the curve of your hips as she leaned in.

Her voice was low, velvet-warm. “Bunny… what are you thinking about?” You hesitated.

Then you looked down at yourself again. “Nothing.”

Her eyes found yours in the mirror. “Wanna try again?”

Your throat tightened. “They’re still there.”

Agatha said nothing at first, but her hands didn’t move. She stepped closer, her body flush against your back now, and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “The stretch marks?” she asked gently.

You nodded. “I lost the weight,” you whispered. “I’ve been careful, eating better, working out when I can. But these—” You gestured at the marks, jaw clenched. “They’re still here. They’re not going anywhere.”

Agatha was quiet. Thoughtful. Then, her hand slid up, resting just above your navel. Her thumb brushed one of the silver lines. “They shouldn’t.”

You blinked. “What?”

“They shouldn’t go anywhere,” she said simply, her voice like dusk. “You carried our daughter. These?” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “These are the places that held her first.”

You closed your eyes. “I see them,” she continued, her voice softer now. “And I remember what it felt like to fall asleep beside you with my hand on your belly—feeling her kick, listening to you breathe. I remember watching you hold her for the first time, your body shaking from what it just did, and thinking, I will never stop being in awe of her.”

Your breath hitched. Agatha turned you gently by the hips until you faced her, your reflection forgotten.

She reached up, brushing her fingers beneath your chin. “You look at these like they’re something to hide. But they’re not flaws. They’re her story. Our story.”

You shook your head, voice cracking. “But I don’t feel beautiful.”

Agatha stepped closer until there was nothing between you. “That’s okay,” she murmured. “Because I feel it for you. Every day.”

Your eyes stung as she leaned in and kissed you—slow, sure, reverent. The kind of kiss that said I see all of you. The kind that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be whole to be loved completely. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. “Let me show you?” she whispered.

Nodding softly you pressed your forehead harder against her own. Agatha smiled softly, her eyes gleaming with tenderness as she took your hands in hers. “Come with me, darling.” She led you towards the bed, her steps slow and purposeful, as if savoring each moment. She led you to sit down before kneeling in front of you, she looked up at you through her lashes. “Lie down for me, sweetheart.”

As you settled back onto the bed, Agatha began to run her fingers along your arm, her touch feather-light and worshipful. “I want to map every inch of you baby.” she breathed. “I want to kiss each scar, each freckle, every part of you that tells the story of who you are.”

She started at your shoulder, placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the smooth skin. Her lips lingered, as if breathing in your scent. “You smell like home” she whispered against your flesh. “Like everything I've ever wanted.”

Agatha's fingers traced the curve of your collarbone as she made her way down your body, dotting it with adoring kisses. ”You're exquisite bunny.” she murmured. “A temple, a masterpiece.” Her hands splayed across your stomach as she peppered your skin with worshipful kisses.

She paused at the band of your panties, glancing up at you with a wicked little smile. “May I?” she asked softly, her fingers toying with the waistband. “I want to taste all of you, sweetheart.” She punctuated her words with the lightest brush of her thumb against your clothed sex. You whimpered, hips canting off the bed to chase the friction.

Agatha hooked her fingers into the fabric and slowly lowered your panties, her eyes never leaving yours as she tossed them aside. “Gorgeous” she breathed as she took in the sight of you bare before her. “Utterly breathtaking.” She leaned in, inhaling your scent and shuddering in yearning.

Her tongue darted out, teasing your slick folds in a slow, torturous stripe. “I could worship this pretty pussy for hours” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin.

Agatha sealed her lips around your clit and suckled softly, her tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. “You taste like Heaven,” she purred, releasing you briefly before diving back in to lap at you greedily.

She dipped two fingers into your dripping entrance, pumping them slowly as she sucked your clit. “Your body knows it belongs to me, sweetheart.” she breathed against you. “It's crying out for my touch, aching for my love.”

Agatha's fingers curled inside you, stroking that perfect spot as she flicked her tongue rapidly against your clit. “That's it, baby” she cooed. “Ride my fingers. Take your pleasure from me. You deserve to feel good”

She brought her other hand up to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipple between her fingers. “I want to watch you fall apart, sweetheart. You're so beautiful when you let yourself go...” Agatha sucked your clit harder, her fingers pumping deliberately, determined to drive you to the edge of euphoria.

You rolled your hips desperately against her mouth, legs falling open wider as a desperate moan falls from your lips. Agatha purred appreciatively as your thighs fell open, baring yourself completely to her hungry gaze. “That's my good girl” she murmured against your slick folds. “Don't be shy, sweetheart.” Agatha sealed her lips around your clit and suckled harder, her tongue flicking against the sensitive bud as two fingers thrust deeper into your dripping channel.

She pumped her fingers at a languid but purposeful pace, curling and stroking that special spot inside you that made your toes curl. “ I can feel how much you need this bunny” she purred, her breath hot and heavy against your aching sex. “Your body is screaming for release, begging to be filled and stretched by my touch.”

Agatha added a third finger, driving them in hard and deep as she sucked your clit with single-minded intensity. You could feel your walls starting to flutter around the invading digits, a sure sign of your impending climax “fuck baby-“ you whimpered softly, one hand shooting down to lace through her hair. You shamelessly rocked your hips harder against her tongue as a string of broken moans fell from your lips.

“Yes, just like that my love” she groaned into your sex, her voice a low, sultry rasp. “Let go for me. I want to taste your pleasure, to swallow every last drop—“ She increased the pressure of her sucking, plunging her fingers in and out of your clenching heat at a now furious pace.

You could feel your belly starting to tighten, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap. “I've got you, baby,” she breathed. Agatha pulled her fingers out abruptly, she stroked the base of your clit with her thumb. At the same time, she snaked her tongue deep into your channel, tracing your walls teasingly before fucking your pussy with its slick, muscular length. “Give it to me bunny”, she pleaded urgently.

The combination of her thumb stroking your clit and her tongue plunging into your core pushed you ruthlessly over the edge. You back arched off the bed as your climax crashed over you in wave after wave, your hand tightening in her hair as your core started rippling and clenching around Agatha's invading tongue.

She drank down your release greedily, swallowing every gush of your sweetness as she maintained the relentless pace of her sucking. Agatha's hands never left your body, cradling and caressing you through each aftershock, helping to ground you as you drifted back down to earth.

Finally, after long, blissful moments, she released your tender flesh and looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. “There now,” she murmured. “Doesn't that feel better?” She hummed.

Agatha’s touch was the first thing you registered again—warm and steady, a quiet anchor as your body slowly came down from the storm it had just weathered. Her fingers slipped through your damp hair, pushing it gently back from your brow. Her hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from something deeper—reverence, perhaps. Awe. You weren’t sure, but you felt it like a thread weaving between you.

She leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, her lips warm against your flushed skin. The breath she exhaled afterward was shaky, like she was grounding herself in the feel of you—real and safe and hers.

“You’re exquisite, darling,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Utterly breathtaking.”

The words settled over you like silk, wrapping around your tired body, your aching limbs. There was no vanity in her tone—no exaggeration, no dramatics. Just raw, open truth. She said it like it was fact, like she’d never seen anything or anyone more beautiful in her life than you in that moment.

Then she gathered you into her arms with such gentleness it nearly broke you. She held you close, your cheek resting against her collarbone, her palm splayed across the center of your back like she was still memorizing every curve, every sigh. Even after all this time. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your ear became the only sound that mattered.

You felt her breath against your temple as she tucked you closer, as if she could protect you from even your own exhaustion. And still, she didn’t rush you. She waited, holding you through the quiet shudders, the final tremors that left your body like echoes from something far greater than words.

“Sleep now, sweetheart,” she murmured finally, her voice low and commanding but still impossibly soft—like a spell spun from silk and certainty. And with her wrapped around you, her scent, her warmth, her everything pressed into you like home, you believed her.

The knock was sharp—three solid hits against the front door. Too firm. Too early.

Agatha stirred with a soft frown, blinking against the soft, gray light filtering through the curtains. The room was still, the sheets warm. She shifted slightly and glanced down.

You hadn’t moved. Still curled against her side, your cheek resting against her shoulder, one arm tucked around her middle like you were afraid she might drift away if you let go. The sight made her smile, even as another knock echoed down the hall.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You stay,” she whispered.

Careful not to wake you, Agatha slid out of bed, tugging on the soft robe hanging over the chair. Her feet padded across the hardwood, the faint chill of the morning air biting at her ankles. As she passed Maeve’s room, she heard a familiar rustle—tiny thumps and frustrated squeaks. Agatha poked her head in.

Maeve was very much awake, clawing at the bars of her crib like a baby prisoner planning her grand escape. Her soft curls were a static mess, her onesie askew from a night of hard sleeping.

“Oh, bug,” Agatha sighed, pushing the door open. “Already plotting a revolution, are we?” Maeve let out a squeaky wail of triumph as soon as she spotted her, little arms flailing.

Agatha didn’t hesitate. She scooped her up and pressed a kiss to her temple, instantly soothing the half-formed fuss into sleepy babbles. “Let’s go see who’s stupid enough to knock this early, shall we?”

Maeve nuzzled into her chest, one hand clinging to the collar of her robe. Agatha carried her down the hall, hips shifting to balance the baby instinctively as the knocking came again—more impatient this time. She frowned.

“I swear, if it’s a neighbor asking about the parking permit again, I might—” She opened the door mid-sentence and froze.

Rio.

Standing on the front step, a sleek coat pulled around her and an expensive scarf slung across her neck like armor. She looked tired—drawn, even—but her eyes were sharp as ever. Before she could speak, her gaze dropped—and stopped.

On Maeve.

On Agatha.

On the way Agatha cradled her daughter with such ease, Maeve’s head resting beneath her jaw like it was the safest place in the world. Rio’s mouth opened. Then shut.

The stillness was instant. Heavy. Agatha narrowed her eyes slightly. “You’re early.”

Rio blinked, as if remembering herself. “I—had a last-minute meeting. International call. I need to be in the city by noon. Thought it better to bring Nicholas back now than leave him with someone else.”

Her voice was neutral. Measured. Maeve let out a soft coo and curled closer into Agatha’s chest. Rio’s expression flickered—just for a second. A flash of something unreadable. Not jealousy, not exactly. Not anger either. Just… quiet.

“Thanks for the courtesy call,” Agatha said, dry. Rio didn’t respond. The moment was broken by a thud of a duffel bag hitting the ground and the blur of motion as Nicholas darted inside, completely unaware of the tension.

“I’m home!” he announced, clearly thrilled. “I’m gonna go put my stuff away—hi, Squish!” He waved to Maeve, who kicked in excitement. “Okay, bye, I’m starving!” He disappeared down the hallway, his backpack bumping the wall behind him.

Agatha stepped back, just slightly, the door still open. Rio still hadn’t moved. Still staring. And that’s when your voice called softly from down the hall:

“Aggie…?”

Your footsteps followed. Muffled. Sleepy. Familiar. “Why’d you leave me?” you groaned, stretching as you appeared in the hallway. You were now in one of Agatha’s old oversized university shirts, hair a tangled mess, one hand rubbing at your eye excessively. “The bed got cold without—”

Then you saw her and stopped. Your expression shifted instantly—sleep dropping away like a mask. Your gaze moved from Rio to Agatha, who adjusted Maeve gently in her arms, then back to Rio again. “Didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

Rio cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And yet…”

Agatha, sensing the gathering storm, murmured, “It’s fine. She had to drop Nicholas off early. That’s all.”

You nodded, lips twitching into a tight smile. “Of course.” There was a pause. Long enough to sting. Maeve fussed softly again, and Agatha rocked her instinctively, whispering sweet nonsense against her curls. The kind of softness she reserved only for her children.

And Rio watched. Her eyes kept drifting back again and again—to Agatha. To the way she moved with Maeve like she’d always known how. To the way Maeve reached back for her robe with tiny fingers like it was home.

Rio’s voice, when it came again, was softer. Not snide. Not pointed. Just… hollow. “She’s gotten so big.”

Agatha didn’t look at her. “She has.”

“Looks like you’ve got everything under control.” A flicker passed through Agatha’s expression. She turned her head, finally meeting Rio’s gaze—flat, unreadable.

“I do.” Another beat. Then Rio glanced back at you—eyes scanning your face, your shirt, your bare legs, your tired but protective posture.

She nodded.

And smiled.

But it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well,” she said quietly, stepping back. “I’ll… see you next week.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving her. “Next week.” Agatha shifted Maeve in her arms again, and without another word, gently pushed the door closed. It clicked shut with finality.

Agatha looked at you. “She didn’t even look like herself,” you murmured.

“She looked like someone watching the life they chose to let go of,” Agatha said, voice even. “And is just now realizing that it’s already moved on.”

You stepped closer and pressed a kiss to Agatha’s temple, lingering a moment longer than usual. “Well, I would hope so…” you murmured against her skin, your teasing tone soft, almost reverent.

Agatha’s lips curved with that familiar, quiet affection that never had to try too hard. “Come back to bed,” she whispered.

You leaned in, wrapping your arm around her waist, her robe soft beneath your palm, Maeve’s little body nestled between you both. “Only if you bring her.”

She smirked, more exhale than expression. “Deal.”

You walked slowly together down the hallway, Maeve making tiny cooing sounds that didn’t quite form into words but still filled the space with the sweet hum of home. Agatha’s hand rested over yours on her waist as you walked, and you pressed a light kiss to her shoulder, just because you could.

By the time you reached the bedroom, the quiet had taken on that special kind of hush that only belonged to mornings like this—heavy rain still tapping at the windows, the echo of distant tires swishing through wet streets, the smell of yesterday’s lavender still clinging to the pillows.

Agatha placed Maeve gently in the middle of the bed and crawled in beside her, immediately stretching out on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. You followed, curling close, your head brushing hers as Maeve squealed and flailed her arms between you.

“She’s so restless in the morning,” you said with a smile, brushing Maeve’s curls away from her eyes.

“She gets that from you,” Agatha replied with a knowing look. Before you could respond, you heard a soft thud and the sound of small, socked feet down the hallway.

Nicholas. He appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, dressed in yesterday’s hoodie, his hair sticking up in every direction. “Okay, now I’m officially home,” he declared, crossing his arms. “Because I’ve found my people.”

You grinned and reached out one arm. “C’mere, knight of the realm.”

He bounded onto the bed without hesitation, throwing himself dramatically across the blankets. “Ugh, Mom made me eat weird oatmeal yesterday. It had nuts and bananas in it. Like chunks of them. I was betrayed.”

Agatha snorted as she reached across you to ruffle his hair. “You poor thing. You’re clearly traumatized.”

“I’m gonna need at least two pancakes to emotionally recover.” Nicholas then leaned over to kiss Maeve’s cheek. She squeaked and kicked her foot against his stomach, earning a laugh.

Agatha leaned back against the pillows, letting her hand rest on your thigh as you curled up together. Maeve ended up sprawled across both your torsos, babbling contentedly like she was giving a morning briefing. Nicholas tugged a pillow behind his head and yawned, melting into the bedding with the boneless grace of a boy who hadn’t quite decided if he was awake or not.

Agatha lifted the remote from the nightstand and pointed it at the TV mounted on the wall. “Cartoons or movie ?”

“Movie,” Nicholas and you said in unison.

Agatha smirked. “My people.” A moment later, the opening credits of an old animated movie filled the screen, the soft flicker of color painting your walls in shades of golden light. The room filled with gentle sounds—dialogue, rain, Maeve’s happy squeals as she reached for the remote in Agatha’s hand.

You watched her, watched them all. Your daughter nestled in her mother’s arms, a thumb in her mouth, her eyes fluttering already.

Nicholas curled against your side, his hand draped protectively over her ankle. Agatha leaning into you like this—this—was the safest place in the world.

And it was.

Everything felt still. Whole. The outside world—its noise, its mistakes, its lingering ghosts—was on the other side of a closed door. And in here?

You were just a family. Made not of perfect people—but of love that had survived. And you would keep surviving. One rainy morning at a time.

[hereforuconnwbb]

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER TEN

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 10k

warning: language

sooo this is the 2nd last chapter for this series (99.9% sure) kinda crazy how it’s almost over 😭 hopefully u guys enjoy this chapter and that it makes sense 😓 i tried my best to make everything come together, and fingers crossed there aren’t any mistakes lol but thank you for sticking with this story it means a lot to me 🫶🏽

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The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. Paige stirred first, blinking against the brightness as she felt the familiar warmth of Azzi curled against her. Their legs were tangled beneath the blankets, Azzi’s head tucked against Paige’s shoulder, her slow, steady breathing the only sound filling the quiet space.

For a moment, Paige didn’t move. She just let herself be—savoring the peacefulness, the way Azzi fit so perfectly against her. It was one of those rare mornings where everything felt right, like the past few weeks hadn’t been filled with so much uncertainty.

Azzi shifted slightly, a quiet hum escaping her lips as she blinked up at Paige sleepily. “Morning,” she mumbled, voice laced with sleep.

Paige smiled, brushing a few strands of hair away from Azzi’s face. “Morning.”

Azzi let out a small yawn, her hand absentmindedly resting against Paige’s stomach as she got comfortable again. Then, as if remembering something, she lifted her head slightly. “What time’s your flight tomorrow?”

Paige exhaled, her fingers trailing lightly over Azzi’s back. “Uh… I think around noon. Gotta be at the airport a little before that.”

Azzi frowned slightly, her brows drawing together. “That’s so soon.”

Paige sighed, knowing Azzi wasn’t happy about it. “I know. I wish I could stay longer, but Geno wanted me back in time for practice.” She gave Azzi a small squeeze. “I’m just glad he and CD even let me come here instead of flying back with the team.”

Azzi huffed, burying her face into Paige’s neck for a moment before mumbling, “Still too short.”

Paige chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of Azzi’s head. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at Paige. “Me too,” she admitted, her fingers tracing absent patterns on Paige’s arm. “Guess we better make the most of today, huh?”

Paige smiled. “Yeah. Let’s make it count.”

—--------------

They decided to take a walk to the nearby café for breakfast, the cool morning air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the room they had just left. The streets were still quiet, the soft hum of early risers beginning to fill the air as they strolled side by side, their fingers naturally intertwining. The simple act of holding hands felt like a quiet promise—a comfort they both needed after the whirlwind of emotions they’d been through.

Paige glanced over at Azzi, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Azzi caught her gaze, offering a grin of her own as they continued walking down the path, their steps in sync.

“Think they have good coffee here?” Azzi asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Paige laughed softly. “I’m betting they have great coffee.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, squeezing Paige’s hand. “That’s a lot of pressure, P.”

Paige winked at her. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

The café came into view ahead, a cozy little place with plants hanging from the windows and the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. They reached the door, and as they stepped inside, the warmth of the café wrapped around them like a hug.

The host led them to a booth by the window, sunlight filtering in and casting a golden hue over everything. They slid into the booth, still holding hands as they sat down. Paige was the first to let go, reaching for the menu as Azzi leaned back against the booth, glancing around casually.

“What’re you thinking?” Paige asked as she skimmed through the menu.

Azzi looked at her for a moment before answering, her voice light. “Maybe some avocado toast? Just something simple.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Avocado toast? You’ve changed.”

Azzi grinned, nudging Paige playfully. “Hey, it’s good. Plus, they probably have the best toast in the area, so I’m taking advantage.”

Paige laughed softly and nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll get the same. Can’t go wrong with toast.”

Their waitress came over a few moments later, taking their orders with a bright smile before disappearing into the back. Azzi looked at Paige again, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Without saying anything, she leaned over the table, brushing her lips against Paige’s in a quick, gentle peck. Paige smiled against her lips, her thumb tracing lightly over Azzi’s hand.

Azzi pulled back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze, her eyes sparkling. “What?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Paige chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again. This time, it was a little longer, their lips moving together, slow and easy. They didn’t pull away completely, lingering there for a few moments, pressing little pecks against each other’s lips, smiling between them. The simplicity of it all was grounding—the softness, the connection, the way everything just felt right in that moment.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested gently against each other, and Azzi grinned. “You’re never getting rid of me, you know that?”

Paige laughed, her hand sliding back to rest on Azzi’s. “Good. I don’t plan on it.”

The waitress returned with their orders, placing the avocado toast in front of them, but neither of them was in a rush to eat just yet. Instead, they lingered in the space between, taking in the quiet, the smiles, and the soft rhythm of their breaths, enjoying the feeling of just being together, in the moment, with no rush to move forward.

—--------------

The conversation flowed easily, but underneath the surface, there was an unspoken weight Azzi couldn’t quite shake. As much as she appreciated Paige’s efforts to come here, to make things right, a nagging feeling lingered in her chest. She wasn’t blind to the fact that it had been Paige who took all the steps to fix what had been broken between them. Paige had messaged first after everything happened, flown out to be with her, and even asked if they were still together.

Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She had waited—waited for Paige to make all the moves, even though Azzi knew, deep down, that she should have been the one to step up sooner. That responsibility was on her too, but she’d let it slip by. She hadn’t been the one to check in emotionally on Paige, especially after everything that had happened with Lexi, and it bothered her.

She wanted to be the one who took the initiative next time, to show Paige that she wasn’t just waiting for things to fall into place, but actively working to make sure Paige was okay. Because Paige deserved that—she deserved someone who would care for her the same way she had for Azzi, someone who would prioritize her emotional well-being, not just let her do all the heavy lifting.

As they continued to eat, Azzi’s thoughts drifted back to the night Paige had arrived. She remembered how the sight of Paige walking through the airport had sent a strange relief flooding over her, but it was also when Azzi had realized just how much she had been holding back.

She caught herself staring at Paige for a moment, the quiet hum of the café providing a background to the way Paige looked at her—relaxed, calm, content, but there was still something in her eyes, something guarded that Azzi hadn’t been able to reach yet.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi set her toast down and looked at Paige seriously, her heart beating a little faster. “I need to say something.”

Paige looked up at her, a small crease appearing on her forehead. “What’s up?”

Azzi swallowed, feeling the weight of what she was about to say. “I’ve been thinking… I’m really thankful that you came here, that you did all of this. It wasn’t easy, and I’m just… I don’t want you to feel like you’re the only one trying, you know?”

Paige furrowed her brow. “Azzi, what are you talking about? You’ve been trying, too.”

Azzi shook her head, her voice quiet but firm. “No. I haven’t. Not in the way you have. You messaged me first, you flew out here, and you asked if we were still together. You’ve been the one making sure everything was okay. I should have been the one checking in on you, especially after… everything with Lexi.”

Paige’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt. Azzi took a deep breath, continuing, “I’ve been kind of a passive participant in all of this, and I don’t want to keep doing that. I want to make sure you’re okay, too, and I want to be there for you in the same way you’ve been there for me.”

Paige reached across the table, taking Azzi’s hand in hers. “You’re here, Azzi. And that’s all I need. I’m okay, I promise. I’m just… still getting over everything.”

Azzi squeezed her hand, her thumb brushing lightly over Paige’s knuckles. “I know, but I need to do better for you. I need to make sure you feel heard, and I need to take the lead in some things too. You’re not the only one who has to fix everything.”

Paige smiled softly, her eyes warm. “I’m not worried about it. We’re doing this together, right?”

Azzi nodded, her chest feeling lighter. “Yeah. Together.”

There was a long pause, and Paige squeezed her hand again. “And I’m glad you’re doing this, Azzi. I want us to be stronger because of it. I’m here for you, always.”

Azzi smiled, the uncertainty still there but fading little by little. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Paige’s cheek, her lips lingering for a second longer than usual. “I’m here for you, too.”

The quiet moment settled between them, but this time, it was different. There was no tension, no confusion. Just understanding. And that was enough for now.

—--------------

After they finished their breakfast, Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease. The conversation had cleared the air in a way, and though there was still work to be done, she knew they were heading in the right direction.

“Want to take a walk?” Azzi asked as they stood up, pushing her chair in and grabbing her jacket. “The weather’s nice, and it’s just a short walk to a park nearby.”

Paige smiled at her, a look of warmth and appreciation in her eyes. “Sounds perfect,” she replied, letting Azzi take the lead.

They left the café together, stepping out into the crisp morning air. Azzi linked her fingers with Paige’s, not shy about initiating the closeness this time. The soft touch of their hands intertwined was comforting, a small, intimate gesture that grounded them both.

As they walked side by side, Azzi looked over at Paige, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. There was gratitude, yes, but also a need to prove that she could be the one to take charge when it counted.

She squeezed Paige’s hand gently. “So, I’ve been thinking,” Azzi started, her voice steady but with a touch of uncertainty, “you know, we talked a lot about everything that happened with Lexi, but I don’t think I really asked you how you’re feeling, like emotionally. After everything you went through, I want to make sure you’re okay. I mean, I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

Paige looked at her in surprise, her brows knitting slightly. “I mean, I’m alright. I’ve had some time to process it. You know I’ve got my own way of handling things.”

Azzi nodded thoughtfully, stepping off the curb as they neared the entrance to the park. “I know you do, but I want to make sure you’re not just brushing it off, you know? It’s important. I’ve seen how tough you are, but you don’t have to do everything alone. I want to be there for you, too. It’s not just about me anymore.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in Azzi’s words hitting her in a way she wasn’t expecting. “You’re right,” she said quietly, squeezing Azzi’s hand. “I’ve been trying to handle it on my own, but… I guess I could use someone to talk to about it.”

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she stopped walking, turning to face Paige fully. “I’m here, Paige. You’re not alone in this. Ever. I know I should have been the one to ask you how you’re feeling sooner, but I’m asking now. Really, how are you feeling? About everything.”

Paige hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to open up fully. She had never been good at expressing vulnerability, especially not about something so raw. But something in Azzi’s gaze—the way she was looking at her, not with pity but with genuine care—made her feel safe.

“I’m still working through it,” Paige finally admitted, her voice quiet. “I mean, I’ve never been in a situation like that. It fucked me up, and it’s still hard to process, especially with the way everything happened. But… I’m getting there. And I’m glad I have you here to help me through it.”

Azzi reached up and gently cupped Paige’s cheek, her touch tender but firm, grounding Paige in the moment. “You don’t have to carry all of that weight by yourself anymore. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just here to fix things; I’m here to be with you through everything. I want to make sure you’re okay, truly okay.”

Paige leaned into her touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. When she opened them again, her gaze met Azzi’s, and her lips curved into a small smile. “Thank you. I really mean that.”

Azzi grinned back, feeling a warmth spread in her chest. “You’ve been there for me, now I get to be there for you.”

They resumed walking, the park now spread out before them, the paths winding through rows of trees and manicured grass. The sun had fully risen, casting a gentle glow over the world around them. They took their time strolling along, the conversation ebbing and flowing naturally.

Azzi took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs. “I’m glad you came here, Paige. I know it wasn’t easy for you, but… I’m so glad we’re doing this. I mean, I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think we’re finally on the right track.”

Paige looked over at Azzi, a look of fondness crossing her face. “Me too. I’m really happy we’re doing this too.”

Azzi’s smile widened, and she squeezed Paige’s hand again, feeling more certain in that moment than she had in a long time. They didn’t have everything figured out, but they were in it together, and that was enough.

As they continued to walk, Azzi found herself leading the way a bit more, guiding them down the winding paths of the park, her confidence growing with every step. She was taking the lead now—not just physically, but emotionally as well. Paige deserved that. She deserved someone who would actively show up for her.

And as they walked hand in hand, the world seemed a little bit lighter, a little bit more hopeful. Together, they were going to figure this out, one step at a time.

As they walked through the park, Paige’s mind began to wander, and a new idea crept in. The thought had been lingering in the back of her mind for a while now, but she hadn’t brought it up to Azzi yet. Now, with the peaceful walk and the conversation flowing so easily, it felt like the right time.

“So,” Paige started casually, glancing over at Azzi, her tone light but with an underlying eagerness. “I’ve been thinking… you and Caroline, you both in the transfer portal. I know things with your team aren’t exactly… great. And I get that it’s a tough decision, but I just wanted to say—have you considered coming to UConn?”

Azzi slowed her pace, her brows furrowing slightly as she turned to look at Paige, trying to gauge the sincerity in her words. She didn’t want to show too much of her hand just yet, but Paige was looking at her with such hope that it made her chest tighten a little.

Paige continued, almost as if she couldn’t stop herself now that the words were out. “I mean, Geno’s been telling me to try and convince you. He really wants you there, Azzi, you and Caroline. And, you know, if you came—well, we’d be together. Like, on the same team. We’ve never played together before, but imagine that. We’d be unstoppable, right?”

Azzi stayed quiet for a moment, letting the idea sit in her mind. Paige was right; they had never been on the same team before, but the thought of playing with her—of being on the same court, really sharing the experience—sounded like something they could both excel in. And UConn’s program? One of the best in the country. It wasn’t just about playing with Paige, though that was certainly an exciting prospect—it was also about the opportunity to play for such a legendary team.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Azzi said slowly, her voice giving nothing away. “Caroline and I have talked about it a lot, actually.”

Paige’s eyes lit up, but she tried not to push, not wanting to make Azzi feel pressured. “I get it. It’s a huge decision, and you’ve got to do what’s best for you. But I just think about how good the program is, the competition, everything we could accomplish together. Plus, I’ll be there. We’ll be together.”

Azzi glanced down at their intertwined hands as they walked, her thoughts swirling. She could feel the pull to UConn—it was a chance to grow as a player, and even more importantly, it was a chance to be closer to Paige. But there was still a part of her that hesitated. She wasn’t ready to fully lay all her cards on the table, especially not when it came to something so personal.

“Yeah,” Azzi said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I mean, I’ve been leaning that way for a while now. But it’s not just about that, you know? It’s about finding the right place for me. For both of us, really.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat at Azzi’s words. She was leaning towards it. That was more than she had expected, and it gave her hope. She squeezed Azzi’s hand tighter, wanting to convey her support.

“Whatever you decide, Azzi, I’ll support you. No matter what. I just want you to be happy. But yeah, I really hope you’ll come to UConn. We’d make such a good team.” Paige smiled, a little nervous but mostly excited. “And hey, we’ll finally get to play together. I’ve always wanted that.”

Azzi smiled back, the warmth in her chest growing as she looked at Paige, knowing how much this meant to her. “I’ll keep thinking about it,” Azzi said quietly, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable sincerity. “And I appreciate you, you know? For giving me the space to figure it out.”

They continued walking, the sounds of the park around them calming the air. Paige felt content, knowing she had put her feelings out there and had shown Azzi how much she cared—not just about their relationship, but about her future, too.

“I know this is a big decision,” Paige added after a beat, her eyes scanning the trees as they strolled. “But whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you. You’re not in this alone.”

Azzi’s heart swelled at Paige’s words, and she leaned into her slightly, her shoulder brushing against Paige’s. “I know. And that’s more than I could ever ask for.”

As they continued to walk through the park, their pace slowing as the conversation turned to other things, the uncertainty about the future lingered, but there was a new sense of confidence in Azzi’s heart. No matter what happened with UConn, she knew one thing for sure: she wanted to figure it out with Paige. And whether they played together or not, they’d be a team. That much was already certain.

—--------------

When they got back to Azzi’s dorm, the atmosphere had shifted into a comfortable, familiar rhythm. Paige had made up her mind to pack her things in advance, knowing she had to leave the next day to head back to UConn. She headed to Azzi’s room, gathering her bags and making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Meanwhile, Azzi and Caroline stayed in the common area, lounging on the couch, talking quietly.

As Azzi sat down next to Caroline, a small sigh escaped her lips. She leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of their conversation earlier still hanging in her mind. “So,” Azzi began, glancing over at Caroline, “Paige had a talk with me today about the transfer portal. She’s been trying to convince me to come to UConn. And… I think she really wants us both there.” Her voice had a mix of thoughtfulness and uncertainty as she spoke, but the more she said it, the more it made sense.

Caroline raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Really? She said that?”

Azzi nodded, rubbing her hands together absentmindedly. “Yeah, and Geno and CD have been telling her to try and get us both to come. She said that she wants us to be on the same team, you know, with her.” There was a softness in Azzi’s voice as she continued. “She said she wanted to play together, and so did Geno and CD. She really believes we’d be a great fit there.”

Caroline was quiet for a moment, her thoughts clearly racing. “I’ve been thinking about it, Azzi,” Caroline finally said, her eyes meeting Azzi’s. “I mean, UConn would be amazing for both of us. It’s such a great program, and we’d have a real shot to show what we can do. Plus… we’d be together. It would be nice to not be apart, you know?”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat at Caroline’s words. There was something comforting in hearing that—something that made the decision feel less like a leap and more like a natural step. “I was thinking the same thing,” Azzi admitted, the realization settling in. “And… I think we’re both leaning in the same direction, right?”

Caroline smiled a little, her expression softening. “Yeah. I think we are.” She leaned back into the couch, her arms stretched out behind her. “I think we should go to UConn, Azzi. It feels like the right choice.”

Azzi met Caroline’s gaze, her lips curling into a small, thoughtful smile. “I think so too.”

For a few seconds, there was silence between them, both of them processing the weight of the decision. Azzi then looked down, her hands resting on her knees. “But…” Her voice faltered slightly. “I don’t want to tell Paige just yet. I don’t know… It feels like we should figure it out for ourselves first. Not just because she’s been pushing for it, you know?”

Caroline nodded in understanding, a knowing look crossing her face. “Yeah, I get it. You don’t want it to feel like it’s because of her. We’ll make sure it’s the right decision for us.”

Azzi smiled gratefully at Caroline, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “Thanks. I just want to be sure, you know? I don’t want to rush into it.”

Caroline gave her a playful nudge. “It’s not like we’re in a rush. Let’s figure it out and then tell Paige when we’re ready. She’ll be happy either way, I’m sure.”

Azzi nodded, still processing everything. It felt good, talking this out with Caroline—knowing they were on the same page. But a part of Azzi still wanted to take her time before sharing the decision with Paige. She didn’t want it to feel like it was just following along with Paige’s desires. It was about what was right for both of them, not just for one person.

Meanwhile, Paige was back in Azzi’s room, busily packing her bags. As she zipped up her suitcase, her mind wandered back to everything she had shared with Azzi earlier. She couldn’t help but feel hopeful, imagining the future they could have, together at UConn. But even though she was excited, she also didn’t want to put any pressure on Azzi to make a decision before she was ready.

Paige shook her head, finishing up the last of her packing. She stepped out into the common area, where Caroline and Azzi were sitting, both looking up as she entered.

Azzi smiled softly at her. “All packed?”

Paige nodded, giving her a small grin. “Yeah. It’s always a bit of a pain, but I’ll survive.”

Caroline gave Azzi a knowing look before standing up. “Well, I think I’m gonna head out for a bit. You two probably need some time to talk about the next steps, right?”

Paige chuckled, but before she could respond, Azzi quickly added, “Yeah, we’re just going to chat for a little bit. We’ll catch up later.”

Caroline grinned. “Sure thing.” And with that, she slipped out, leaving Azzi and Paige alone in the quiet dorm room.

Azzi turned to Paige, her expression thoughtful. “You know… I’ve been thinking about everything you said today. About UConn and the transfer portal. I think it could be a really good opportunity for both me and Caroline.”

Paige’s eyes brightened at Azzi’s words, though she kept her tone casual. “I’m glad to hear that. I just want you to be happy with whatever decision you make, Azzi.”

Azzi met her gaze, her smile soft. “I know. And I appreciate that. I think I’m ready to make the decision soon.”

Paige smiled back, her heart racing a little, not knowing just how close they were to both making that leap—together.

—--------------

Azzi had been planning the arcade date for the entire morning ever since breakfast, wanting to surprise Paige with something fun and lighthearted before the end of her visit. As they walked hand-in-hand to the arcade in the early afternoon, the sun was high and warm, and a gentle breeze followed them. Paige was practically bouncing with excitement when Azzi told her the plan.

“An arcade date?” Paige grinned, her eyes sparkling. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Azzi chuckled at Paige’s infectious energy. “I thought you’d like it. We can get competitive, you know, and I’ll beat your ass at everything.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. “In your dreams, Fudd. I’m definitely winning this one.”

The two of them strolled inside, the arcade filled with the sound of flashing lights, clinking coins, and the familiar electronic music of machines. Azzi immediately led Paige to a row of games, and soon enough, they were caught in a whirlwind of competition, teasing each other between rounds.

They started off with air hockey, their faces intense with focus as they smacked the puck back and forth. Paige managed to win the first round, but Azzi was quick to challenge her again, and this time, she came out on top.

“Ha!” Azzi laughed, sticking out her tongue. “I told you I’d win!”

Paige groaned in mock defeat, but she was grinning. “That was such a fluke. But I’ll get you next time.”

They moved to the next game, skee-ball, and Paige was already sizing up the machines with a determined look. The two went back and forth, trying to see who could get the highest score. Azzi tried to focus, but Paige kept giving her teasing side glances, distracting her.

“Wow, I didn’t know we were playing for real,” Azzi said, acting surprised.

Paige raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just too good. You know that.”

Then they headed over to the racing games. Paige was particularly competitive with this one, and she immediately hopped into the seat. Azzi grinned and slid into the seat next to her, revving the virtual engines as they both raced on the screen, each one determined to beat the other.

“Ready to lose?” Paige asked, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

Azzi leaned over and whispered with a sly grin, “You wish.”

As the game began, the race was neck and neck, but Paige somehow managed to edge ahead in the final lap, her fingers flexing over the buttons in excitement as the virtual car zoomed past the finish line.

“I win!” Paige exclaimed, raising both hands in the air as the screen flashed.

Azzi laughed and shook her head. “Fine, you won that one. But I’m getting you next time.”

They both took a few steps away from the racing game, their competitive energy still buzzing in the air. But then something caught Azzi’s eye in the corner of the arcade—a vintage photo booth. The faded pink and blue lights surrounding it made it look nostalgic and inviting. Azzi’s face lit up as she tugged Paige toward it.

“Let’s take some pictures!” Azzi suggested, her voice playful.

Paige raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You mean… you want me to get into that tiny booth with you?”

Azzi laughed and gave Paige a wink. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can make silly faces.”

Paige hesitated for a second but then grinned. “Fine. But I’m not making any stupid faces.”

They squeezed inside the photo booth together, and Azzi quickly slid the curtain shut, leaving just enough room for both of them to fit. Paige was already trying to adjust her hair, making sure she looked good for the photos. Azzi leaned back against the corner, her eyes twinkling. “Okay, first one—smile!” she said, leaning into Paige with a playful glint in her eyes.

The camera clicked, and they both smiled wide, their eyes meeting as they giggled. The first photo came out, and both of them took a moment to adjust their hair and faces.

“Alright, let’s try something silly for the next one,” Azzi suggested, her hand resting lightly on Paige’s arm.

Paige nodded with a grin. “Ok ok, I can do that. Watch this.”

They pulled exaggerated faces for the second photo—Azzi sticking her tongue out and Paige crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out as well—just before the camera flashed again, capturing their silliness. The second picture came out, and both of them burst into laughter, the silliness only making them feel closer.

The third shot was more relaxed. Azzi turned slightly toward Paige, her smile softening as their shoulders brushed. Paige rested her hand on Azzi’s thigh as they posed for the photo, the warmth between them growing with each passing second. Their laughter died down into a contented silence as the camera flashed once more, capturing the ease between them.

When the fourth picture began to print, the playful atmosphere shifted slightly. Azzi leaned in close to Paige, her lips parting as if she were thinking about something, but before she could speak, she met Paige’s gaze. There was an unspoken connection in that moment, a quiet tension that felt electric.

“Okay,” Azzi said softly, “let’s make this last one a bit different.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, sensing the change in the air. “Different how?”

Azzi didn’t answer with words—she simply leaned in closer, her lips brushing Paige’s ear. “Let’s kiss for this one,” Azzi whispered, her voice low, teasing yet full of affection.

Paige’s heart raced in her chest, and without thinking, she closed the distance between them. She leaned in to kiss Azzi softly, their lips meeting gently at first, then deepening as their chemistry sparked. In that moment, it felt like time slowed down, their connection more palpable than ever. Paige’s hand, still resting on Azzi’s thigh, gave a subtle squeeze, and she felt Azzi respond, shifting ever so slightly to press herself closer. The last click of the camera echoed in the small booth, capturing that intimate moment between them.

They didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, they stayed there, lips still pressed together in a slow, tender kiss that said more than words ever could. The photo booth printed out the final picture, and when they finally broke apart, they both took a deep breath, their faces flushed with the warmth of the kiss.

Azzi smiled at Paige, her hand reaching for the prints. “I think this one’s going on my wall.”

Paige laughed softly, a light, affectionate tone in her voice. “I think you might be right. I’m keeping mine, though. It’s too cute.”

They each took a copy for themselves of the strip of pictures, sliding it into their pockets for safekeeping. 

After they left the photo booth, the playful mood between Azzi and Paige hadn’t worn off in the slightest. They wandered through the arcade for a bit longer, trying out a few more games and chatting between rounds. But eventually, Azzi’s eyes brightened when she spotted the sign for Laser Tag.

“Laser tag?” Azzi asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think, should we do it?”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “I’m so in for that! Are we going to be on the same team, or are you going to try to beat me at that too?”

Azzi smirked. “Oh, we’re definitely not going to be on the same team. I want to see how good you are under pressure.”

Paige scoffed, looking playfully offended. “Oh, it’s on now. Prepare to lose, princess.”

Azzi chuckled, nudging Paige in the ribs. “We’ll see about that.”

They made their way over to the laser tag area, where a group of other players was already waiting for their turn. Azzi and Paige signed up, each selecting their color-coded teams. Paige was assigned to the red team, and Azzi to the blue.

Azzi glanced over at Paige with a smirk as they suited up in the vests and strapped on their laser guns. The arena was dimly lit, with neon lights and fog machines creating an atmosphere that felt like they were about to step into another world. The air was electric with excitement, and the other players buzzed with anticipation, too.

“Don’t get too cocky, Bueckers,” Azzi teased, her voice playful yet serious. “I’m going to outmaneuver you.”

Paige raised her eyebrows as she adjusted the vest. “Bring it on. Just remember, you started this.”

The game started, and they both split into their respective teams. The arena’s lights flickered, and the countdown echoed through the room as the buzzer rang.

“Go!” someone yelled, and in an instant, the two teams scattered.

Paige didn’t waste any time. She dashed into the maze of ramps and pillars, scanning the area for opponents. The beams of light from the laser guns shot across the dimly lit arena, creating a chaotic but exciting battlefield. Her heart pounded, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She moved with purpose, keeping her eyes open for the first person to get in her sights.

Meanwhile, Azzi was just as focused. She ducked behind a structure and carefully checked her surroundings before making her move. Azzi’s competitive streak had come alive, and she wasn’t about to let Paige have the upper hand. She spotted someone from the other team and quickly aimed, her laser gun firing with precision. The target lit up, and she grinned in satisfaction.

Paige was on the move again, keeping her eyes on her own team’s progress as she searched for Azzi. She knew she couldn’t underestimate her—Azzi was good. Very good. She quickly darted into a new hiding spot, pressing her back to one of the pillars.

Then, from across the arena, Paige saw her. Azzi, seemingly out of nowhere, had appeared near the top of one of the ramps, aiming at a member of Paige’s team. Paige’s eyes narrowed, and she adjusted her grip on her laser gun. She had to be fast.

Without thinking, Paige sprinted toward Azzi’s position, ducking behind obstacles and leaping over ramps as she closed the gap. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The moment she peeked her head out to line up the shot, Azzi saw her.

“Not fast enough!” Azzi yelled, smirking as she fired her gun, hitting one of Paige’s teammates.

But Paige was quick to retaliate. In a blink, she aimed and fired directly at Azzi, and she saw the confirmation light blink on Azzi’s vest.

“Yes!” Paige grinned, sticking her tongue out. “Gotcha.”

Azzi playfully pouted, then flashed Paige a teasing smile. “Okay, okay. You’re good.”

The game continued, both teams getting a few more shots in, each side trading victories and near-misses. Paige and Azzi were clearly having a blast, but there was still an unspoken tension between them, the desire to outdo each other making the experience all the more thrilling.

When the game finally ended, the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, letting everyone know the results. Paige’s team had won by a narrow margin, but only because Azzi had spent a little too much time enjoying the competition with Paige.

Azzi shot Paige a look of mock annoyance as they met up at the exit. “Okay, fine. You won. But only because I was distracted by you.”

Paige smirked and shrugged, a playful gleam in her eye. “Distracted by me, huh? I guess I’m just that distracting.”

Azzi crossed her arms and pretended to glare, though her eyes softened with affection. “Whatever. Just wait ‘til next time.”

Paige laughed and nudged her. “Next time, you’re going down, Fudd.”

The two of them laughed as they walked back toward the exit, their hands finding each other naturally. Even with the teasing, the competition, and the game, it was clear that they were enjoying each other’s company—more than ever.

“We need to do this again,” Paige said, still grinning.

Azzi nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. But next time, we’ll be on the same team. No more winning at my expense.”

Paige raised an eyebrow playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

As they made their way out of the arena, the air still electric from the game, Paige couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through her chest. It was moments like this—simple, fun, yet undeniably special—that made her grateful for the time they had together.

—--------------

The air outside had started to cool as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a gentle twilight settling over the city. Paige and Azzi, still feeling the lingering energy from their afternoon together, stood on the sidewalk, looking at each other with that familiar spark in their eyes. The tension between them hadn’t completely faded—it was still there, hanging in the air, but it was different now. It was playful, teasing, and a little flirtatious.

“So, what do you think? Should we keep this night going?” Azzi asked, her voice light but laced with a hint of mischief.

Paige raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “What did you have in mind?”

Azzi grinned. “Karaoke.”

Paige chuckled, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, you want to embarrass me in front of a crowd, huh?”

Azzi shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nah. I just want you to have fun, babe. It’s all about enjoying the moment.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh. “I should’ve known you’d be the one to suggest karaoke.”

“Come on,” Azzi said, pulling her by the hand toward the bar just a block away. “It’ll be fun. And I’m way better at singing than you.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “I’ll believe that when I hear it.”

They entered the bar, which had a cozy, yet buzzing vibe. The lighting was low, and the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air. A hostess greeted them at the door and led them to a private karaoke room at the back. The room was plush, with soft leather seating along the walls and a screen in the center where the lyrics would appear. A microphone sat on a stand in the middle of the room, and a small table in the corner was already stocked with drinks and snacks.

Azzi flopped down onto one of the seats, kicking off her shoes. “I’m telling you now, Paige, I’m going to crush you in this. Prepare to be impressed.”

Paige rolled her eyes but plopped down next to her. “We’ll see about that. I bet you can’t even hit the high notes.”

Azzi grinned, teasing her with a playful look. “I’m just setting the stage, Bueckers. Let’s start with something easy. You do like SZA, right?”

“Of course,” Paige replied, grabbing a drink and taking a sip. “But you do realize, I’ve got a mean voice, right?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow and picked up the karaoke remote. “You’re about to find out.”

She quickly selected a song—“Good Days” by SZA—and the intro began to play. Both of them exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

“Oh god,” Paige said between giggles, “this is going to be hilarious.”

They began singing, but for the most part, neither of them took it too seriously. They belted out the lyrics, off-key more than once, while cracking up every time they hit a wrong note. Azzi’s voice was smooth and confident, but Paige’s enthusiasm more than made up for it. They harmonized when they could, but mostly they were just laughing, goofing off, and having fun.

At one point, Azzi was in the middle of a line, and Paige couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Wait, hold on! I wasn’t even ready for that note!” Paige’s laugh was infectious, and soon, they were both holding their stomachs as they tried to get through the chorus.

“You’re terrible!” Azzi said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I thought you said you could sing!”

“I never said I could sing well!” Paige retorted, still chuckling.

Halfway through the song, they’d both abandoned trying to sing properly, instead focusing on cracking each other up. The karaoke machine flashed “Singing with Heart!” as a message to remind them of their lack of effort, but neither of them cared.

When the song finally ended, they collapsed into their seats, catching their breath from all the laughing. “Okay,” Paige gasped, “that was actually fun. And maybe you’re a little better than I thought.”

Azzi grinned, pleased with herself. “I told you.”

Right as the laughter started to subside, a server brought in their order—pizza, chips, and a few more drinks. “We’re going to need some fuel for the next round,” the waiter said with a smile before leaving the room.

Paige immediately reached for a slice of pizza and handed one to Azzi. “You know what this night needs? A banger.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of her pizza. “What’s your idea of a banger?”

Paige smirked. “How about some I Don’t Fuck With You by Big Sean?”

Azzi nearly choked on her pizza. “No way! You want us to sing that?”

Paige shrugged, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “It’s perfect. You’re already getting the hang of this, and besides, we’re having fun.”

Azzi thought for a second, then grinned. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paige selected the song, and the beat kicked in with the iconic intro. Azzi’s eyes lit up. “This is going to be great.”

They both got into it, rapping the verses and shouting the chorus with all the energy they could muster. Neither of them could keep a straight face, especially as they got louder and more dramatic with every line. They didn’t take themselves seriously at all, but the playful energy between them made it even more fun.

When they hit the part  “I don’t fuck with you,” they both leaned toward each other, laughing so hard they couldn’t catch their breath. It was obvious neither of them knew every word perfectly, but they made it work with their laughter and exaggerated moves, practically throwing themselves into the performance.

Every now and then, Azzi would bump her shoulder into Paige’s, and Paige would wink at her. Every time they shared a look or a laugh, the chemistry between them was undeniable. They didn’t even realize how close they were, how their bodies naturally gravitated toward each other, the touch of their hands becoming more frequent. By the time the song was almost done, Paige was leaning into Azzi, her arm wrapped loosely around Azzi’s waist as they rapped the last few lines together.

Paige’s thumb brushed across Azzi’s side, making her shiver slightly, and for a second, the fun vibe shifted. They shared a look, the air between them suddenly heavy with something more than just laughter. It was that undeniable, quiet tension—something they’d been dancing around for a while during the day today. Paige’s hand settled more firmly on Azzi’s side, squeezing gently, and Azzi’s breath hitched.

Without a word, Paige leaned in slowly, and before either of them knew it, their lips met again, this time with more intention. It was soft at first, but then Azzi pressed in closer, one hand resting on Paige’s shoulder while the other found its way to Paige’s neck, pulling her in deeper. Paige’s hand slid down Azzi’s side, fingers grazing her hip, their kiss growing more heated and intimate by the second.

They broke away for a moment, both of them slightly breathless, but neither of them moved far apart. Their foreheads rested against each other, both of them smiling, yet something unspoken lingered between them.

“Looks like we might’ve just started a new tradition,” Azzi whispered, her lips barely brushing Paige’s.

Paige smirked, teasing. “Only if you promise to let me win next time.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll think about it. But for now…” She kissed Paige’s forehead. “I think we’ve earned another round.”

And with that, they dove back into their playful, intimate moment, lost in the music, the laughter, and each other’s company.

—--------------

As the night continued, the atmosphere between Paige and Azzi grew even more intimate. The playful teasing from the karaoke room began to shift into something deeper. Their laughter died down, and in its place, an undeniable connection between them was more palpable than ever.

Azzi’s hand found Paige’s again as they sat side by side, the energy between them quiet but intense. Every touch, every glance, seemed to carry more weight now, both of them aware of the sparks they were playing with. Paige, still feeling the warmth of Azzi’s touch, leaned closer to her, her voice softening.

“Thank you for today,” Paige said, her words sincere as she gently squeezed Azzi’s hand. “This has been so much fun, seriously. I needed this. I needed you.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes softening as she gazed back at Paige. “I’m happy to see you happy, Bueckers,” she replied, her voice low but filled with affection. “You deserve it, after everything. I’m glad you came here.”

Paige couldn’t help but smile back, her heart swelling at the sound of Azzi’s words. She tilted her head slightly, letting her gaze linger on Azzi for a moment before she leaned in, brushing her lips against Azzi’s in a quick but sweet kiss.

The moment was perfect—filled with warmth, tenderness, and the undeniable connection they shared. But as time wore on, reality slowly began to sink in. They checked the time and saw that it was getting late. Paige had to leave soon, her flight back to Storrs looming in the morning. The thought of leaving was bittersweet.

Azzi gently pulled away from Paige, her hand still resting on Paige’s, and stood up. “We should probably head back to my dorm,” Azzi said with a soft sigh, her voice tinged with a bit of reluctance. “I don’t want this night to end, but I know it’s getting late.”

Paige nodded, her smile soft. “Yeah, I know. But it’s been a perfect day.” She rose to her feet, following Azzi as they left the karaoke room, the energy still lingering between them like a comfortable warmth.

They walked back to Azzi’s dorm, hand in hand, the night air cool against their skin as they moved through the streets, neither of them wanting to let go of the closeness they’d found. It felt like time had slowed down, giving them just a little more time to savor the moments they had left before Paige would have to leave.

Once they arrived at Azzi’s dorm, they slipped into the common area, where Caroline was lounging on the couch. She looked up at the sound of their footsteps, her face lighting up with a smile when she saw them together.

“How was your guy's day today?” Caroline asked, her tone warm and teasing, clearly knowing something had shifted between them.

Azzi and Paige shared a knowing look, both of them grinning. Azzi pulled the photo strip out of her pocket, her fingers brushing over the small pictures they had taken together earlier. “It was amazing,” Azzi said softly, handing the photo strip to Caroline. “We took these. Look.”

Caroline took the strip, her eyes flickering over the pictures as she smiled. “Aww, you two are so cute,” she said, her voice light with joy. She looked up at them, her expression genuinely happy. “I’m really glad you both figured things out. You two deserve to be happy.”

Azzi and Paige exchanged a quiet, contented smile, both feeling the weight of Caroline’s words. They hadn’t fully realized how much they’d needed to hear that until now. Azzi squeezed Paige’s hand gently, her eyes flickering with affection.

“Thanks, Caroline,” Paige said, her voice soft but sincere. “I’m glad I came here… for her.”

Caroline beamed, clearly happy for them. “Well, I’m glad you did, too.”

With a soft chuckle, Azzi led Paige down the hallway to her room. “Come on,” she said, her voice playful but full of warmth. “Let’s get some rest. I’m pretty sure we’ll need it.”

Once they reached Azzi’s room, the door shut behind them softly, the sound of the lock clicking into place. Paige turned to Azzi, her smile soft, her heart full. She glanced at the photo strip again, tracing the edges of the pictures with her fingers.

“It feels real now,” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible. “Like, really real.”

Azzi nodded, her gaze steady on Paige. “It does,” she replied quietly. “And I’m happy it is.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, the weight of their connection settling between them. It had been a long journey to get here, full of ups and downs, but now—here, in this moment—it felt like everything had fallen into place.

“I’m gonna miss you tomorrow,” Paige said after a beat, her voice soft but laced with sincerity.

Azzi smiled, her eyes softening with affection. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

They lingered there for a few more moments, the tension in the air now replaced with something much more tender. Paige reached out, gently cupping Azzi’s cheek before pulling her in for a soft kiss, feeling the warmth of Azzi’s lips against hers. The kiss was slow and sweet, a gentle affirmation of everything they had between them.

—--------------

As the night stretched on, Azzi, exhausted from the day’s adventures, slowly settled into the bed, her head resting on the pillow. Paige, watching her, smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection as she saw Azzi’s peaceful expression. Azzi’s breathing began to slow, and within moments, she was fast asleep, the gentle rise and fall of her chest signaling her deep slumber.

Paige took a deep breath, glancing over at Azzi one last time before pulling her phone out of her pocket. She unlocked it and opened the group chat with Geno and CD, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before she started typing.

Paige: Hey, so I’ve been convincing Azzi and Caroline about UConn. I think it’s working. They seem to be leaning toward it.

She sent the message, her eyes briefly scanning over the words, her thoughts briefly drifting to the possibility of everything working out the way she hoped. Her thumb hovered over the screen again, typing out another message.

Paige: They’re still undecided, but I can tell Azzi’s starting to warm up to the idea. We might just be able to pull this off.

A few seconds later, Geno’s reply pinged back, followed quickly by CD’s.

Geno: Good. We’ve got a good program, and I think they’d be a great fit. Just keep doing what you’re doing.

CD: Yeah, keep at it. Glad to hear it’s working. See you soon at practice.

Paige smiled at their responses. She’d been nervous, unsure if her efforts would be enough, but now that she had some reassurance, she felt more confident. She put her phone down on the nightstand, her heart at ease.

Turning back to Azzi, Paige pulled the blanket up just a little higher, ensuring she was comfortable before lying down beside her. The soft sound of Azzi’s steady breathing was soothing, and Paige couldn’t help but smile as she closed her eyes. It had been a long journey, but it felt like things were finally falling into place.

She whispered softly to herself, “This is just the beginning.” And with that, she let sleep take over, her hand finding Azzi’s beneath the covers as they drifted into a peaceful slumber together.

—--------------

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the blinds of Azzi’s room, gently waking the trio. Paige stretched as she yawned, glancing at the clock. Her flight wasn’t until later in the afternoon, but it felt like time was slipping away too quickly. She didn’t want to leave just yet, but at the same time, she knew she’d be back soon. The thought of going back to Storrs felt distant, almost surreal, after the whirlwind days spent with Azzi.

Azzi and Caroline were already up, chatting quietly as Paige stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. The sound of laughter from the living room filtered in, and Paige smiled, knowing that no matter what happened next, this trip had been worth it.

“Hey, breakfast?” Azzi called from the kitchen, a mischievous grin on her face. “You can’t leave without one last good meal.”

Caroline nodded, walking past Paige to grab her jacket. “Yeah, let’s go. We’ll make it count.”

The three of them headed to a nearby café that Paige and Azzi had gone to yesterday, a cozy spot with warm sunlight pouring in through the windows. They settled into a booth near the front, the smell of freshly baked bread and sizzling food making Paige’s stomach rumble. They ordered savory items—toast with avocado, scrambled eggs, and a side of fruit.

As they ate, Caroline, ever the photographer, pulled out her phone. She leaned back slightly in her seat, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Alright, you two, smile!” Caroline said, her camera poised. “You both look adorable together. Just one for the memories.”

Azzi and Paige shared a glance, their smiles easy and natural, just like the connection between them. Paige leaned in slightly, their shoulders brushing, and Azzi tilting her heads towards Paige as they both grinned at the camera. Caroline snapped the shot quickly, satisfied with the candid moment.

She looked down at her phone, scrolling through the picture. “This looks perfect. Mind if I post it?” she asked, showing them the image.

Paige and Azzi shared another glance before nodding in agreement.

“Go for it,” Paige said with a shrug, though her eyes softened as she smiled at Azzi.

Caroline quickly typed a simple caption: “Breakfast with my faves🥰.” She posted it, keeping things lowkey—nothing too obvious, just a casual shot between friends.

“Alright, let’s go,” Caroline said, tucking her phone away after the post was live. “We’ve got a flight to catch… eventually.”

The three of them drove to the airport, the air crisp and cool as they drove through the parking lot. The drive had been lighthearted, filled with music and jokes, but now that they were here, Paige couldn’t help but feel the weight of leaving. She wasn’t leaving because she wanted to—it was just a part of the plan. She had her responsibilities back at UConn, but a piece of her wanted to stay longer, savor the quiet moments with Azzi.

When they reached the airport, they said their goodbyes at the entrance, but Azzi and Caroline insisted on staying with Paige until her flight was ready to board.

“We’re not saying goodbye yet,” Azzi said with a soft smile, her fingers grazing Paige’s.

Caroline nodded in agreement. “We’ve still got time. No rush.”

They lingered in the airport, walking through the terminals, talking, and enjoying the last little moments they had together before Paige’s departure. It felt like they had all the time in the world, but Paige knew it was slipping away. The departure was inevitable, but so was the promise that this wasn’t the end.

—--------------

As the time ticked by, they finally reached the gate, and Paige checked in for her flight. There was still a little time before boarding, and she knew Azzi and Caroline would be with her until the very last moment.

The hum of the airport was steady, but the quiet between the three of them was filled with unspoken words. It was one of those moments where they all knew what was coming but didn’t want to acknowledge it just yet. The announcement for Paige’s flight echoed through the speakers, snapping the silence into focus.

“Attention, passengers on Flight 1264 to Hartford, we are now boarding. Please make your way to the gate.”

Paige took a deep breath and glanced down at Azzi, who was standing beside her, her eyes filled with something softer than sadness. There was a quiet strength in the way Azzi looked at her, the kind of look that made Paige feel like everything had fallen into place, despite the uncertainty of their situation.

“Guess this is it,” Paige said, her voice light but carrying a weight. She turned to Caroline, giving her a quick but sincere hug. “Take care of her, alright?”

Caroline smirked as she hugged Paige back tightly. “You know I will, but you better not forget about me when you’re back at UConn. I’ll be watching.”

Paige chuckled, ruffling Caroline’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’re impossible to forget.”

As Caroline stepped back, she pulled out her phone, her eyes twinkling with something mischievous. “You two,” she said, her voice quieter now, “are perfect.”

Paige turned toward Azzi, who was standing close by, her gaze full of quiet affection. There was a pause, a heartbeat where neither of them wanted to let go of the moment they were in. Then, without a word, they embraced, and Paige pressed a soft kiss to Azzi’s lips.

“Bye Baby,” Paige whispered against Azzi’s lips, her voice laced with affection and a little sadness. “I love you.”

Azzi smiled softly, her fingers brushing the side of Paige’s face. “I love you, too.”

The words felt like a promise, like a bond that had only grown stronger in the time they had spent together. Paige pulled back just enough to look at Azzi’s face, memorizing the look in her eyes, as if trying to hold onto that very moment.

Caroline, ever the observer, was quick to snap a picture of the two of them, capturing the warmth in the hug, the quiet kiss, and the gentle affection that surrounded them. She knew this moment was for them, something for just the two of them to keep.

As Paige pulled back from Azzi and turned toward the gate, she shot one last smile at both of them. “Remember what I said about you two at UConn. No funny business, alright?” she teased with a wink.

Azzi’s laugh rang out, full of fondness. “We’ll see,” she said playfully, but there was no doubt in her voice—only the quiet understanding that they had something real.

With one final wave, Paige turned toward the boarding tunnel, her heart heavy but light all at once. As she walked away, the image of Azzi and Caroline remained in her mind—two people who had become so much more than just friends. The connection between Paige and Azzi had only grown stronger, even with the distance between them.

In that moment, Paige knew that no matter what the future held, what they shared would always remain. It was a bond forged in something deeper than time or distance. As the plane’s engines roared to life, taking her further away, she carried that strength with her, knowing Azzi was just a heartbeat away, no matter where they were.

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

[batmanlovesnirvana]

THE SHRINK

THOMAS SHELBY X FEM!READER

synopsis : After constant pressure from Polly, Tommy finally gives in and goes to see a therapist … though he’s not happy about it.

A/N : idk what to think of this ☹️ english isn’t my first language so sorry for any mistakes

"GO SEE HER, THOMAS. YOU NEED HELP."

The hell he did.

Thomas Shelby didn’t need a fucking shrink.

He didn’t need some doctor picking apart his brain like it was a puzzle missing half its pieces. He had his own cure, neatly tucked beside his bed, waiting for him every night.

A pipe. A flame. A breath. Oblivion.

It was faster. Easier. It made him forget. And it sure as hell didn’t cost him a fortune just to hear some fool tell him what he already knew.

Opium simply didn’t ask questions. It didn’t tell him he was broken. It just worked.

But Polly had a way of getting what she wanted. And when she threatened to take her complaints straight to Campbell ( about the guns, about everything ) he realized she wasn’t bluffing.

So fine. One session. That’s it. No more.

Here he was. Not because he believed in this. Not because he wanted to be here.

But because he had no fucking choice.

And that’s how he ended up here.

The room smelled of roses, wood polish, and paper.

It was modest, no, functional. Homey, too.

Not luxurious, but not rundown either.

The kind of place meant to put a man at ease without making him comfortable. The walls were lined with books, the sort of titles Thomas Shelby had no patience for.

A neat desk sat in front of a window, its surface practically empty, save for a lamp and a single stack of papers. In the center of the room, two red-cushioned chairs faced each other, positioned like opponents in a quiet war.

Tommy had been in rooms like this before.

Police stations. Intelligence offices. Places where men sat behind desks and asked questions they already knew the answers to. He didn’t trust this one either.

Even if Polly had sent him.

The woman sitting across from him was young to be telling people what was wrong with them.

He had expected someone older, sterner, with glasses perched on their nose, asking him about his deceased mother and cursed life.

Instead, you were composed, patient. Watching.

"Mr. Shelby," you greeted him.

He didn’t return the courtesy, just leaned back in the chair, one ankle resting over his knee. His cigarette sat between his fingers, unlit. He rolled it, eyes flicking across the room.

No clocks ticking, no visible crosses — nothing that would give away a bias.

"You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to," you said evenly.

He scoffed through his nose. "I don’t want to be here."

"Then why are you?"

He glanced at you properly now, eyes sharp, calculating. He could tell she already knew the answer.

"You know Polly," he said.

"Ah," you nodded, "so she insisted?"

"More like threatened." He exhaled slowly, shifting in the chair. "She’s been on about me talking to someone since we got back from France."

A pause.

He could see you weighing the information, deciding how to approach him.

"You did fight in France."

"Everybody did," he said flatly.

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you shifted slightly in your chair, crossing your legs, taking a notebook and pen.

"Did Polly say why she thought you needed to talk to someone?"

He smirked at that, shaking his head. "I imagine you could guess."

"I could," you admitted, "but I’d rather hear it from you."

He studied her now, properly.

He had met a lot of people who wanted to get inside his head; inspectors, lieutenants, officers who didn’t give a fuck about the men they sent to the trenches. But this one was different. You weren't prying.

Not yet.

She was waiting.

When he didn’t answer, you took a different approach.

"Most men who come back from war experience changes in their behavior," you said casually. "Some struggle with sleep. Some feel like they can’t slow down, like they have to keep moving. Some — "

"I sleep just fine," Tommy cut in.

You raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

He didn’t respond.

Silence stretched between them.

And you let it.

He realized you weren't one of those people who filled the air with noise just to make the other person uncomfortable. You were fine with waiting.

He licked his lips, tapped his unlit cigarette against his knee.

"'Olright then," he said finally. "What do you want me to say?"

"It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need."

Another scoff. "I don’t need anything."

"I see." You tapped the pen lightly against the notebook, considering him. "Then let’s start simple. Since you’ve been back, what’s the most noticeable change in your life?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth, staring past her now, out the window.

The city had changed. Or maybe he had.

"Things are different," he admitted finally.

"How so?"

"Before we left, everything was... smaller. More predictable." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Now it’s like everything is moving too fast and too slow at the same time."

"Too slow?" she echoed, intrigued.

"Nothing’s... loud enough." His fingers twitched slightly against the chair. "Not like it was over there."

You watched him closely. "You miss the noise?"

He turned to you then, fully, blue eyes sharp. "You think I do?"

"I don’t assume," you said simply. "But a lot of men who come back struggle with silence. It’s unnatural after years of war."

He gave a short, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well... it’s not just the noise."

He didn’t elaborate.

You nodded slightly, letting his words settle. "And the fast part?"

His jaw tensed. "People talk more. Ask more questions. Things that used to be simple aren’t anymore. Some days I wake up and it feels like I have to figure out how to do it all over again."

"How to do what?"

He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Be normal, I suppose."

Your expression softened slightly, but you didn’t let sympathy cloud your approach. "And what does normal look like for you?"

Tommy exhaled slowly through his nose.

He should have expected that.

But he didn’t have an answer.

Normal was a house by the cut, Polly at the kitchen table sipping a cup of tea, Arthur throwing a punch to John in the yard, Ada rolling her eyes at both of them. Finn imitating them.

Normal was the factory, the pubs, the streets they grew up on.

Normal was before the war.

And that wasn’t coming back.

No, that was the past.

He shifted, looking at you with that guarded expression he always wore.

"Look," he said finally. "I get why Polly sent me here. But I’m not one of those men who needs fixing."

You studied him for a moment before responding. "I don’t think you’re broken."

That made him pause.

His fingers stopped rolling the cigarette.

You seemed confident, certain. No pity, no softness. Just ... truth.

For the first time in the whole session, he didn’t know what to say.

You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze. "But I do think you’re trying to outrun something. And that only works for so long."

Tommy clenched his jaw. "You got all that from one session?"

You gave a small smile. "No, Mr. Shelby. I got that from the way you keep looking at the door."

Silence.

Then, Tommy exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. "Jesus."

He pushed himself up, straightening his coat. "I think that’s enough for today."

She didn’t try to stop him.

Just closed her notebook, standing as well.

"Will I see you next week?" she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just gave her one last look before heading to the door.

Right before stepping out, he paused.

Then, without turning back, he muttered, "Polly’ll make me."

And then he was gone.

part 2 ??? this is awful

[fxckadoodledoomunson]

A Heart Divided -6-

Previous

[6]The Monster’s Deal

Summary: You are stuck in a trance, leaving Eddie and the others to find a way to save you. Can they reach you in time? Or are they too late?

Warning: swearing, blood, reader being vecna’d.

Tagged: @somethingvicked @ali-r3n @mirandasidefics @mewchiili @erisdogwood @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @yourdailymemedelivery @pretendthisnameisclever @sadbitchfangirl

You hadn’t planned on going to Reefer Rick’s abandoned lake house, but after your plan to leave town had hit a wall due to running out of petrol, you had no choice but abandon Steve’s car, to cross the lake and head to the lake house, where you had been hiding for the past week or so. Thankfully, Rick hid the spare key so you could go inside. However, you were running low on food and supplies, unsure how long you could stay, especially as you had constant headaches and nose bleeds. Not to mention the nightmares of the people close to you abandoning you, leaving you alone with monsters.

The only thing that kept you calm at the moment was music. Unfortunately, you couldn’t have it too loud, as it would expose you. So, you had your Human Racing cassette which was left in Steve’s car, playing it on low volume on Rick’s cassette player, but enough for you to hear. During your stay, you had contemplated on whether or not to go back home or go to another town. You didn’t want to leave your friends behind, especially Chrissy and Steve. And even though you missed Eddie, you were sure that he still wanted nothing to do with you, even after you had left him a letter and your diary. You sighed, as you sat up on the couch , after waking up from your nap. You could’ve sworn that you saw an unfamiliar short haired girl kneeling in front of you. But you shook it off, thinking you only just dreamt about her. As soon as you got up from the couch, you grabbed a cup in the kitchen, filling it with water, deciding on your next move when you heard someone calling you. You gasped and turned to find Eddie standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“E-Eddie?” You stammered. “How did you get in here? I locked-“

“You really think that writing that stupid letter would change anything between us?” Eddie interjected, as he approached you. “Do you think anyone wants you around after everything?” Your eyes widened, as you noticed that his brown eyes were replaced with soulless white eyes, as he growled with a monstrous tone, “Everyone is better off without you.”

It was all in your head. In reality, you were stuck in a trance with no one in front of you, not hearing Eddie’s plea for you to snap out of it. With no other choice, Eddie punched his fist through the window, breaking it before anyone could stop him.

Eddie yelled in pain, as his bloodied hand reached the handle on the other side, unlocking the door.

As soon as the door opened, Eddie ran to you, placing his hands on your shoulder, as he called your name, trying to wake you up.

As the others gathered around you, a tearful Eddie pleaded, “Sweetheart, please! Please, wake up!”

Steve, Lucas and Dustin did the same, while Wayne was trying to figure out what was going on.

“No, get away from me!” You shouted at the possessed Eddie, as you stepped back, only for you to be backed up against the counter.

“You cannot escape, child,” the possessed Eddie retorted, as he grabbed your throat, almost choking you.

You struggled to break free from his grip when you noticed the cup sitting in the sink. You reached for it, gripping it tightly, before smashing it against his head. He growled in pain, pressing his hands against the injury, releasing you from his grasp.

You moved away slowly, as the person transitioning in front of you moved its claws, revealing a monstrous creature. As soon as it turned to you, you immediately ran of the lake house.

However, instead of running to the lake, you found yourself in a blood-red terrain, with a fractured house in the middle. You had stopped running, and looked at your surroundings, before finding four pillars in front of you. You slowly approached the pillars, getting a better view of them when you noticed four mangled bodies tied to the pillars, bounded by vines.

You blood ran cold, as you realised who they were. You gasped, as you saw the first face in front of you. “Max?”

You placed your hand on her shoulder when you abruptly had a vision of Max’s body rising up in a dark attic, before her body snapped and her eyes gouged out by an invisible entity while a terrified Lucas watched. You gasped, as you stepped back, before shifting your attention to Patrick McKinney and Fred Benson.

“Patrick…Fred…” You sniffled, as you touched both their arms, seeing visions of how they met the same fate, with Patrick dying in Lover’s Lake and Fred, in the middle of the road.

You stepped away, and turned to the last victim. You gasped, before you clapped your hands to your mouth, sobbing uncontrollably as you approached your best friend bound to the pillar.

You then placed your hands on her face before embracing her lifeless body, as you sobbed, “Not you too, Chrissy. Please, not you too!”

You then saw a vision Chrissy’s body rising up in front of a petrified Eddie, before watching her die in front of him, as he screamed.

“What are you doing?” A dark voice growled, causing you to turn around, finding the same monster approaching you. You slowly stepped back before turning away, running as fast as you could when you suddenly felt something slimy grabbing your ankle, causing you to fall forward. You screamed, as you felt your body being dragged back, before you had your back against the door. You tried to move, but the vines rapidly gripped your arms and legs, as well as your neck.

You struggled to break away as the monster approached you, as it spoke, “Don’t be afraid. It will be over soon.”

Your eyes widened, as it raised it’s claw above your head.

“Please wake up now!” Eddie cried out, as he gently shook you, while Steve, Dustin and Lucas called out for you to come back as Wayne turned to the cassette player, remembering what an old friend told him a few years back…

“Music?” Wayne asked his friend Colin, who had worked in Pennhurst where the alleged murderer Victor Creel resided. “That’s what saved him?”

“That’s what I heard,” Colin replied. “Mind you, the man’s insane, so he could’ve said that to change his story.”

At once, Wayne grabbed the cassette player, bringing it closer to you when Dustin asked, “What are you doing?”

“Testing a theory,” Wayne replied, before turning up the volume.

You had shut your eyes tight, unsure of how you would be killed when you suddenly heard Nik Kershaw’s I Won’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me playing. You opened your eyes, seeing your body in the real world, being surrounded by Steve, Lucas, Dustin and Wayne, who were trying to you wake up when you heard Eddie calling you, as he rapidly tapped your shoulders.

You gasped, wondering what was going on when you heard the creature say, “They can’t help you.” It turned to you, before telling you. “You know that you don’t belong there, not anymore…”

You silently questioned the creature’s words, as it raised its claw above your head once more, as you shifted your attention from the portal to the pillars, as you wondered if the bodies were real or if you were imagining them there. If they weren’t in the creature’s dominion, then there was a chance that you could…

“Come on! Wake up please!” Eddie pleaded. “I need you-“

All of a sudden, your eyes changed from soulless white to your natural eye colour, as you gasped. You shut your eyes, collapsing to the floor, as Eddie and the others caught you.

A tearful Eddie held you close, as he sobbed, “Sweetheart…I-“

However, you pushed him away as you screamed, thinking that you were still in the creature’s domain.

Eddie tried to approach you again when you grabbed a shard of the broken cup, and slashed his cheek, causing him to scream in pain, as he covered his cut.

“Get away from me!” You screamed, as you turned around, running towards the lake.

Everyone called out to you, as they followed you. As an injured Eddie followed you, you ran into the lake, before frantically swimming away.

Dustin called out for you to come back, as Eddie ran to the boat. As soon as he got in, he pulled the cord on the back of the boat. However, there was no horsepower. He pulled again, before smacking it, as he yelled, “Come on, you piece of shit!”

Not waiting any longer for Eddie to get you, Steve removed most of his clothes, leaving his jeans on, before diving into the lake, following you.

You gasped for air as you continued to swim as fast as you could when you suddenly heard ringing in your ears, causing you to stop swimming, and your body to sink, as you replayed pieces of your encounter of the creature…

“Wait! Please wait!” You heard yourself say.

“..a deal?” You heard the creature asked.

“…in exchange…”

“…bring them…”

“…you’ll get your…”

You gasped for air, as you opened your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, realising that you were no longer in Lover’s Lake, but in a hospital room, as you thought to yourself, How did I get here?

“She’s finally awake,” you heard someone say, as you sat up, when you heard a familiar sweet voice say, “Hey.”

You looked up, realising that Chrissy, Dustin Robin and Steve were in the room with you.

You turned to find Chrissy standing beside you. “Chrissy? Is that really you?” You asked, unsure if you were back in the real world or not.

“It’s definitely me,” Chrissy softly replied, as she stroked your head. Realising that you were back and that she wasn’t dead, you had let out a relieved gasp, before pulling her close for a hug, as you sobbed.

“You’re still alive,” you sniffled, before pulling away, as you asked, “What about Max? Fred? And Patrick? Are they all okay?”

The four of them gazed at you with confusion, as Robin told you, “Max’s waiting outside. I can get her if you want. I need to call Vickie anyway, she’ll be happy to hear that you’re finally awake.”

After you thanked her, you told her, “Tell her I said hi.”

Robin hugged you, before leaving the room. You then turned to Steve, beginning to apologise for taking his car and abandoning it.

“Listen, Steve. About your car…I’m sorry for taking it. I had intended on returning it-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied as he shook his head. “You’re safe. That’s more important.”

“How long have I been here?” You asked him and Chrissy.

“A few hours,” you heard Dustin respond. You turned to him, as he mentioned that your parents had been to visit along with your other friends, even the older Hellfire members, which surprised you. He then let you know that your sister was absent.

“That’s a shocker,” you sarcastically said, unsurprised by your sister’s absence.

Chrissy held your hand, as you asked the two boys, “How did I get here?”

Steve explained what happened when he and the others found you.

“One minute you were like a zombie, and the next you ran out and swam to the lake trying to get away. You started to drown by the time Eddie and I reached you-“

“Eddie was really there?” You remembered. After you had woken up from your trance, you thought that the monster had disguised itself as Eddie again, trying to pull you back into his domain.

“He’s actually in the room next to you,” Dustin informed you. “He’s having his hand and cheek stitched up.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he panicked at the sight of you and punched the glass so he could get inside.”

You couldn’t believe it. After everything that happened, Eddie came to find you.

But then, you remembered that you attacked him, thinking he was still the monster.

You looked down at your lap, as a tear fell down your cheek, feeling guilty for attacking him.

“Is he angry with me?” You asked.

“No, he’s worried about you.” Steve informed you, as he sat on the edge of the bed, before asking, “Why would he be angry with you?”

“Because I attacked him. I thought…I thought it was after me again,” you whispered.

Chrissy, Dustin and Steve turned to each other with confusion when you heard a knock on the door, before it opened.

It was Max.

“Hey,” she spoke, as she entered the room. “Robin said that you asked about me.”

“You also asked about Patrick and Fred? Why?” Dustin asked.

You turned to Chrissy and Max, before shifting your attention to Steve and Dustin, before replying, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try us,” Max said.

You looked down at your lap, trying to find a way to explain what you had seen.

You took a deep breath, before explaining, “While I was Rick’s, and even before then, I kept having these…constant headaches, and nosebleeds…”

Max and Chrissy showed shocked expressions on their faces, as you continued whilst staring at the boys, “When you guys found me, I thought I was alone when Eddie…someone I thought was Eddie, attacked me. When I thought that I had escaped, I ended up in this place…I can’t explain it, but I remember the pillars, and seeing…”

You then looked up at Chrissy and Max, before revealing, “You two, as well as Patrick and Fred, tied up against the pillars…”

You gasped for air, as tears fell down your cheeks, before describing the sight of their bodies.

You gazed at the four of them, who were silent, before you scoffed as you wiped away your tears, “I knew you guys didn’t believe me-“

“Of course we do,” Dustin replied, as he placed his hand on your shoulder, whilst Chrissy squeezed your hand. Steve, Dustin and Max had their suspicions that it could be something to do with the Upside Down.

“Totally,” Max said. “Was it the first time that it happened?”

You shook your head, before replying, “I heard someone the night before the race while everyone was arguing. And before the race started, I saw this…grandfather clock by the pool…”

Chrissy and Max silently expressed their shock at what you said, before you continued, “And as I swam, I saw some sort of monster swimming close by, which made me stop.”

Max remembered when you quickly got out of the pool during the race, realising that you shared the same vision of the clock as her.

“I know it sounds crazy-“

“It’s not,” Chrissy replied. “I saw a grandfather clock the day I met with Eddie. I too had been seeing things that weren’t there.”

You looked up, looking shocked when Max mentioned, “Same.”

You gazed at both girls when Steve remembered, “When we found you, Eddie kept saying ‘Not again.’ What did he mean?”

You looked at him with confusion, unsure what he meant when Chrissy chimed in, “I think I know why.”

You, Max, Dustin and Steve turned to Chrissy, as she told you, “I told you that I went to him for something to help with my nightmares.”

You nodded, as Chrissy admitted, “Well, I…I left out the rest of what happened, because I was scared that you might think that I was crazy or you would assume that something happened between me and Eddie.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, as Chrissy confessed, “After the game, I went to his trailer, as I wanted something stronger.”

Chrissy then told you what she had saw while Eddie went to find some ketamine, which shocked you, as you didn’t think Chrissy would ever touch something strong.

“One minute I was in my house, facing this monster, and the next I was back in the trailer.”

You turned to Max and the boys when Chrissy remembered, “There was something else…I remember hearing a song…I think it was Uptown Girl. I also saw Eddie approaching my body, trying to wake me up. While the monster was distracted, I somehow managed to escape.”

You gazed at your best friend when Dustin began to mention that people always say that Hawkins was cursed. “They weren’t wrong.” He then revealed to you and Chrissy about their previous encounters with the Upside Down, which shocked you, and yet strangely at the same time, it made sense to you what has been going on in Hawkins in the last few years. You and Chrissy were about to ask the others some questions when you heard a knock on the door revealing a nurse standing in the doorway. She smiled, as she greeted you.

“One of your friends told me that you’re awake,” the nurse informed you. “The doctor will be seeing you shortly.”

She then looked at her watch, before telling everyone else, “Visiting hours finished ages ago, you all should go home, get some sleep.”

After she had left, you told everyone, “You better do what she says.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Chrissy told you, as she hugged you, before picking up her backpack whilst Dustin placed the spare supercom on the table. “If you need anything, contact one of us,” he told you, as he and Max hugged you.

“I will do,” you replied, as you felt Steve’s hand lightly tussling our hair, making you smile.

“See you later,” Steve said, as he moved his hand.

As soon as your friends left, you huffed whilst the nurse was telling you something. However, you didn’t listen to what she said, as you tried to remember what the monster told you in his domain.

Back outside, everyone else was in the hallway, about to leave when they saw Wayne and Roxy coming out of Eddie’s room.

“Again, I’m so sorry for causing trouble between her and your nephew,” they heard Roxy apologise. “I understand that he’s angry.”

“I think he’s more angry with himself. Give him time,” Wayne politely replied.

Roxy turned to see Chrissy and Max, who gave her a small smile. Roxy silently nodded at them before turning around to leave, as Wayne turned to find the others close by, and asked how you were.

“She’s finally awake,” Steve replied, causing Roxy to turn around. “The nurse had-“

“She’s awake?” They heard Eddie ask, as he dashed out of the room, about to go to yours when Wayne stopped him. “Take it easy, boy,” he told him.

“I need to see her.”

“You’ve just been stitched up. You need to rest. We all do.”

“Excuse me,” everyone turned to Roxy, who had cautiously approached them, before asking, “Do you think I can go and see her quickly? I just-“

“Absolutely not,” Eddie hissed.

“Eddie,” Wayne sternly said.

“No! I don’t care how sorry she is, she’s not seeing her.”

Roxy lowered her head, as she turned around and walked away, letting out a sniffle.

Chrissy and Max sympathetically watched her, before they turned to glare at Eddie.

“Seriously Eddie?” Max scolded.

“Well she shouldn’t have done it, no matter what the threats were,” Eddie retorted, commenting that you would be his friend again if it wasn’t for your sister and Roxy.

“Well maybe if you didn’t believe her sister in the first place, none of this would have happened!” Chrissy growled, which made Eddie’s face soften.

“Chrissy…”

“No! Instead of asking her for the truth, you chose to believe her sister. Everything that’s been happening is because you believed her lies!”

“Excuse me,” they heard the nurse sternly speak. They turned to her, as she scolded them, “Please your voices down, you’re disturbing the patients.”

Wayne apologised to her, before she went back to check on you.

“Chrissy,” Eddie began to speak. “I-“

“I’m gonna find Roxy,” Chrissy announced, before running off to find her.

Luckily, Roxy wasn’t far away. Chrissy managed to catch up to her as she called her name, “Roxy! Roxy wait!”

Roxy turned around, as Chrissy caught her breath, before apologising, “I’m sorry about Eddie.”

“Don’t be,” Roxy replied. “I can’t blame him for being angry.”

“Well, I told him that he shouldn’t have believed the lies in the first place.”

There was a short moment of silence, before Chrissy told her, “Listen, I’m coming back to see her again after school tomorrow, if you want to apologise to her.”

“What about Eddie?”

“Don’t worry about him. You’ve already apologised to him, right?”

Roxy nodded, before Chrissy told her, “So, I’m positive that his uncle will make sure that he doesn’t stop you from seeing her.”

Roxy gave her a small smile, as she thanked her.

“Hey!”

Chrissy heard Robin’s voice, as she ran towards her and Roxy with Lucas walking behind her.

“How is she now?” Lucas asked. “One of the nurses said that she was going to see her.”

“Well, she’s definitely been to hell and back,” Chrissy replied, as she crossed her arms. “We’ve just got kicked out for staying after visiting hours.”

There was a short moment of silence, before Roxy spoke up, “I should get going. I don’t want to leave my grandparents and Shaun alone for too long.”

As soon as her and Chrissy said goodbye, Roxy walked through the hallway before Robin asked, “Was that…?”

“Roxy,” Chrissy confirmed. “Yeah. Where are the others?”

“Mike and Nancy have left, they’ve taken the rest of the Hellfire club home. I tried to find her folks,” Lucas informed her. “But I couldn’t find them anywhere.”

Chrissy sighed, before telling them that she was going to the restroom. “Maybe I’ll bump into them on the way.”

She then asked Robin if she could get a ride with her and Steve. “Yeah, sure,” Robin replied. “I’ll let Steve know that you’re coming with us.”

Chrissy thanked her, before heading out to find the restroom, while Lucas and Robin went to find the others.

A few moments later, Lucas and Robin headed towards your room when they saw Wayne coming out of Eddie’s room while the others waited outside.

“And behave yourself, boy,” Wayne called out. “Don’t give the nurses any grief. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” they heard Eddie softly reply.

As soon as Wayne shut the door behind him, Robin greeted him and the others, before mentioning that she and Lucas ran into Chrissy earlier.

“Where is she now?” Steve asked. “Did she manage to find Roxy?”

“She did,” Lucas replied, before mentioning that Chrissy was going to the restroom and that she was going to see if she could find your parents. Robin then mentioned that Chrissy asked for a ride with her and Steve.

“I said it was okay,” Robin told Steve, who silently nodded, before telling Wayne that he and Robin were going to stay and search for your parents.

“We’ll stay and help,” Dustin suggested.

“I think I should drop you kids off home,” Wayne interjected, before telling Steve and Robin. “You go and find them.”

“We’ll be as quick as we can,” Steve told the others, before he and Robin began their search.

While Robin searched one end of the building, Steve searched the other end when he overheard someone saying in a rude tone, “It’s now too late to go and see her.”

At once, he recognised the voice as your mother. As he slowly approached the corner, he heard another familiar female voice. “Well, maybe if you weren’t yelling at me for coming here, you would’ve been able to see her,” the woman retorted, as Steve poked his head out to see who your mother was having an argument with. To his surprise, it was his estranged aunt, whom he had not seen in years, with a suitcase beside her.

Why’s she here? He thought to himself, as he questioned why she was talking to your parents. She couldn’t have been here all this time.

“Look dear,” your father calmly said to your mother. “We’ll come back tomorrow. She’s probably still not awake-“

“I don’t want her near our daughter!” Your mother interrupted, causing Steve’s aunt to scoff. “I don’t know why the hospital called her!”

“You might’ve raised her,” Steve’s aunt retorted. “But I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

“Only because you had an affair with my husband!”

Steve’s eyes widened as he heard the truth. Wait, what? Steve thought. It can’t be. She’s my…?

He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard one of the nurses telling the three adults to keep their voices down.

After your father apologised to the nurse, he turned to his wife and Steve’s aunt, and told them, “We’ll discuss this outside…”

“We will not,” his wife scoffed. “Birth mother or not, she’s not going to see her.”

As the adults were about to make a move, Steve quickly marched down the hallway, hoping to evade them. As he marched away, he muttered, “It can’t be true, can it? Surely mom would’ve-“

Steve abruptly stopped, as he noticed that the hallway lights were flickering. He looked up, and muttered, “What the hell?”

All of a sudden, he heard someone scream. At once, he ran towards where it was coming from.

Meanwhile, in your hospital room, as the lights flickered erratically , the monitor started beeping rapidly, causing the nurse to panic, as she ran out of the door, calling out for help.

“What’s going on?” Eddie called out, as he stood in his doorway.

“You stay where you are!” The nurse told him, as she ran to get help. Disobeying her orders, Eddie rushed to your room, finding your body going into a spasm. He began to panic, as he swiftly approached you, calling your name, begging for you to wake up…

In your mind, you were back in the monster’s domain.

“What do you want?” You bellowed, as you were tied to the vines once more, as you faced the creature.

“Have you forgotten our deal already?” It asked, as it moved closer.

You expressed confusion, not remembering what you had told it previously.

The monster growled, as it told you, “You promised to bring me four new souls in exchange for your friends. But to do that, you must join me…”

You shook your head, remembering the deal you made in order to spare Chrissy, Max, Patrick and Fred. However, you never made the deal to join the creature.

“No, no! That wasn’t part of the deal!”

You suddenly felt your body stiffen, as the monster raised its claw to you. You tried to break free, but you couldn’t get out of its grip, as it growled, “You have twenty four hours to join me. Otherwise, I will take your friends at all at once.”

Suddenly, you started seeing the original victims in your vision. First, you saw Max screaming in Wayne’s truck, seeing bloodied Billy sitting next to her. Next, you saw Patrick sitting in the corner of the room, covering his ears, blocking out his father’s verbal abuse. In the next vision, you saw Fred looking through his window, seeing a car on fire in the middle of the road, causing him to hyperventilate. Finally, you saw Chrissy on the floor next to the cubicle, covering her ears, drowning out her mother’s threats, as the cubicle door rattled.

“Stop!” You shouted at the monster. “Stop it! Leave them alone!”

“You join me, and they will be spared…”

“Come on! Wake up!” Eddie shouted, trying to explain explain wake you up when a doctor pulled him away, as the nurses tried to help you when all of a sudden, your body stopped spasming.

Eddie called out your name, unsure if you were unconscious or not when you suddenly gasped for air, realising that you were back to reality.

“Let go of me!” You looked up to find Eddie pulling himself away from the doctor, as you threw the bedsheet away from your body, attempting to get out of bed, when one of the nurses stopped you.

“Let me go,” you pleaded. “I need to find-“

“You need to rest,” the nurse retorted.

“You don’t understand, I need to-“

Before you could explain, the nurses pulled back to your bed, as you continued to scream. “I need to warn them! They’re in danger!”

Eddie’s eyes widened, as you continued to scream.

“Hey! Let go of her!” Eddie yelled, as he tried to pull them away from you when the doctor pushed him back, causing Eddie to knock the supercom off the table. Luckily, he caught it before it could break.

“You need to let us do our job,” the doctor sternly told him, before asking one of the nurses to escort Eddie out of the room.

“No! I’m not leaving her,” Eddie retorted, as you screamed.

The doctor turned to one of the other nurses to give you something to calm you down, as the nurse who had been looking after Eddie escorted him out of the room, assuring him that you were going to be okay.

Eddie was skeptical, but followed the nurse, not wanting to cause any more distress.

After the nurse brought him to his room, Eddie sat on the bed, as he faintly heard you screaming again, causing him to burst into tears when he suddenly heard Dustin calling you via the communicator, asking if you were okay, before revealing what happened with Max.

Eddie sniffled, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, before lifting the supercom close to his face, responding to Dustin, trying his best to explain what was happening.

Meanwhile, Steve ran to where the screaming was coming from when he heard knocking in one of the restrooms, before hearing a female voice say, “I can’t help you if you don’t open the door.”

Steve peeped through the door to find a nurse standing outside of one of the cubicles, as he heard whimpering from there when he noticed a familiar pink backpack by the sink.

At once, he swung the door open and ran towards the cubicle, as the nurse scolded him, “Sir, you can’t be in here.”

Ignoring the nurse, Steve knocked on the door, as he called out, “Chrissy? Chrissy, it’s Steve.”

All Steve could hear was her whimper. With no other options, Steve went into the cubicle next to Chrissy’s, and stood on the toilet and started climbing up. “If you don’t leave, I will call security,” he heard the nurse say, as he climbed over to the next cubicle, where a terrified Chrissy was sitting beside it with her knees close to her chest. A sympathetic Steve squatted down, facing her, as she had her eyes shut, covering her ears with her hands, grizzling.

“Chrissy?” Steve softly spoke, as he reached out his hand to touch her, causing her to jolt as she cried in panic.

“That’s it! I’m getting security!” Steve heard the nurse shout, before hearing her exiting the restroom.

Steve repeatedly called for Chrissy to look at him, as he tried to reach her.

“No! Go away!” She screamed, as she shut her eyes, pulling herself back when Steve moved closer, grabbing her face, as he told her, “Chrissy, it’s me! It’s Steve.”

Chrissy slowly opened her eyes, as she tried to control her breathing, “Steve?” She mumbled.

“Yes, it’s me-“

Steve was cut off by Chrissy’s sudden movement, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, as she sobbed uncontrollably against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Steve softly said, as he reciprocated the hug, rubbing her upper back, noticing that she was still shaking.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” Steve told her, as he lifted her up from the ground, carrying her in a bridal hold when he heard Robin call out, “Chrissy? Are you in here?”

“Robin?” Steve called out.

“Steve? What are you doing in there?” Robin asked.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute. Can you grab Chrissy’s bag from the counter?”

As Steve unlocked the door whilst carrying Chrissy, he heard Robin say, “Got it.”

As soon as Steve opened the door, a shocked Robin asked, “Chrissy, what happened?”

Chrissy remained silent, as Steve carried out of the restroom, before telling Robin, “We better get her home, before security comes.”

“No no, please,” Chrissy abruptly shook her head as she sniffled. “I don’t want to go back there.”

Steve and Robin quickly glanced at each other, wondering what to do when they heard footsteps close by.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath, assuming that security was coming. “We need to make a move-“

“Steve?”

Robin and Steve stopped and turned their heads to find his aunt standing in the middle of the hallway with her suitcase in her hand.

She happily gasped, as she quickly approached him, told him whilst a confused Robin looked on, “Never in a million years did I think that we would meet again here. How’s everything? I’d give you a hug, but you clearly have your hands full.”

She lightly chuckled as she looked at Chrissy, while Steve sternly glanced at her suitcase, before she began to speak, “I’ve just discharged myself.”

Steve glared, aware that she was lying when he noticed that the nurse from the restroom was with a security guard was further down the hallway.

Shit, he thought, as his aunt continued to make pleasantries when he quickly turned on his heel and started to quickly head towards the exit, whilst trying not to drop Chrissy, as Robin followed him.

“Uh, Steve…” Robin began to speak, as she was trying to keep up with him. “Who is that woman?”

“My aunt. My mom’s sister,” Steve replied, as they finally reached the exit. “Let’s just get Chrissy somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. What about your place?”

“After what happened last time? There’s no way my mother will let you stay over again, especially after you-“

“Steve? Where are you going?” His aunt called out, as they got to the car park.

“She’s not gonna give up,” Steve muttered, as they reached his car. He tried to reach for his car keys in his jacket pocket, but he couldn’t do it without risking in dropping Chrissy.

“Robin? A little help?”

Robin immediately grabbed his keys from his jacket, and unlocked the door, before opening it for Steve, so he can put Chrissy in the back seat.

As soon Steve and Robin got into the car, Steve started up the engine. “Okay, we better get-“

Steve stopped speaking, as he noticed that the trunk of his car was opened.

“What the-?” He muttered, as he got out, finding his aunt putting her suitcase in the trunk.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked. “You can’t just put your case in my-“

“Is that anyway to talk to your aunt?” His aunt retorted, as she pushed down the trunk down, and went to sit next to Chrissy, before Steve could protest.

“Are your parents home, Steve?” She asked.

Steve was about to say that they were, even though it was a lie. However, he knew that she would tell that he wasn’t being truthful.

He silently shook his head, before hearing his aunt say, “Great. Saves getting a motel.”

As soon as Steve drove away from the car park, his aunt tried to make conversation with Chrissy, who was lowered her head in silence, not wanting to speak to anyone. As Robin tried to lighten up the situation by interacting with his aunt, Steve wondered what would happen if you knew who your real mother was.

Meanwhile, Eddie was in his room, continuing to talk to Dustin via the walkie talkie. “Wayne said that Lucas and I can stay in the trailer tonight, so we can keep an eye on Max,” Dustin informed him. “Mike mentioned that Nancy’s gonna check on Fred and Patrick.”

“Okay,” Eddie’s responded. “Let me know if anything changes. I’ll do the same.”

After finishing the conversation, Eddie grabbed his Walkman and a couple of tapes, before he snuck into your room, finding you sleeping. As soon as Eddie placed the communicator on the table, he sat down on the chair beside you, and lifted his head to look at you.

As he watched you sleep, he sighed, before telling you, “You probably can’t hear me, or maybe you can and you choose to ignore me, but…”

He paused before explaining, “Just wanted to let you know that Henderson and Sinclair are keeping an eye on Red.” He then revealed that Nancy was going to check on Patrick and Fred.

“As for Chrissy…he mentioned that she’s staying at Harrington’s. Buckley had let him know once they got to his place. Apparently his aunt is staying too.”

He then shifted his attention to your diary, causing him to sigh, before he apologised, “I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t fell for your sister’s bullshit, you wouldn’t be in here. I know it won’t make any difference, especially after the way I treated you. I wish that I could take it all back.”

He sniffled, as he placed the Walkman on the bed, before getting up to place his headphones over your head.

“Wayne told me about this theory that this Creel guy had about music, how it could save someone from getting killed,” Eddie explained, as he took out Def Leppard’s High ‘n’ Dry cassette from its cover and put in the Walkman, as he continued to speak. “So, I brought this just in case. Hopefully, it’ll still work.”

After pressing the play button, Eddie faintly heard Bringing On The Heartbreak playing through the headphones.

He lightly chuckled, as he remembered the first night he took you home after Hellfire…

Eddie had a rock station playing in his van, as he drove through town, when he suggested that he can switch to another radio station if you didn’t like rock music. To his surprise, you told him, as Bringing On The Heartbreak started playing. “Leave it on. I actually like Def Leppard.”

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, and Bringing On The Heartbreak is my favourite song.”

You started to quietly sing along, before you had let out a bashful laugh.

“No carry on,” Eddie encouraged you, before he started singing along with you. At first, he was worried about you tutoring him, assuming that you were quick to judge him for being a third year senior into Dungeons and Dragons, and metal music. But after getting to know you, he was glad that you were tutoring him…

Tears ran down his face, as he thought about that memory and how he had treated you recently. He held your hand as he continued to tearfully apologise while you slept peacefully.

Early next morning at the Harrington household, Steve was making coffee when Robin ambled into the kitchen, as she yawned.

All through the night, Steve and Robin took turns on keeping an eye on Chrissy, making them both exhausted.

“How’s Chrissy now?” Steve asked, as he poured a cup of coffee for Robin, before passing it to her.

“She’s getting herself ready,” Robin replied, as she poured sugar into her coffee. “I gave her my spare clothes to wear.”

Steve poured his own coffee when his aunt came in, as she cheerfully greeted them, “Good morning!”

The duo winced at the volume of her voice, as his aunt sat next to Robin at the counter, before asking Steve, “So, where’s your girlfriend?”

Steve furrowed, as he stirred his coffee, when she elaborated, “The girl you were carrying last night? Christine?”

“It’s Chrissy,” he corrected her. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed , before turning to Robin. Before his aunt could even ask if she was seeing her nephew, Robin quickly replied, “Nope. We’re just friends, platonic with a capital P.”

Before Steve could pick up the cup, his aunt grabbed it and drank it immediately.

“I guess I forgot to make one for myself,” Steve muttered sarcastically, as he grabbed another cup when he heard a soft voice say, “Hey.”

He looked up to see Chrissy standing in the doorway, wearing a flannel shirt which Robin lent her nearly covering a pair of denim shorts.

Before Steve and Robin could answer, Steve aunt spoke up, “Morning sweetie. Did you sleep well?”

Chrissy politely nodded, as she stood beside Robin, when Steve offered to make her some breakfast.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chrissy politely declined, when Steve’s aunt told her, “No need to be polite. My nephew can make you something.”

Chrissy asked if she could have a banana instead.

“Sure, go ahead,” Steve replied, as he grabbed one from the bowl, giving it to her.

“Thanks,” Chrissy said, as she started peeling the banana, before explaining, “After what happened yesterday, I don’t know if I can stomach anything else.”

Robin asked if she was still going to see you after school.

“Yeah,” Chrissy replied. “Roxy said that she’ll be there too, so I wanna make sure that Eddie doesn’t drive her away.”

“Well, I’ve got work today, but I can leave early and take you guys,” Steve told the girls.

“Great,” his aunt interrupted. “We can go and see her together.”

Steve glared at her, as both Chrissy and Robin stared at her with confusion.

“Really?” Robin asked.

“Of course,” Steve’s aunt replied. “I know I’ve never met your friend, but maybe I-“

“Can I talk to you in private?” Steve asked his aunt, whilst trying not to raise his voice.

Before his aunt could respond, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the chair and into his dad’s study room. Not long after, Robin snuck towards the door, as Chrissy quietly told her, “We shouldn’t be eavesdropping-“

Robin shushed her, as she pressed her ear against the door.

In the office, Steve’s aunt sat in the chair, as she scolded, “You didn’t need to pull me away. I’m just being friendly-“

“You’re not seeing her,” Steve interjected.

She gasped, feeling offended, before telling him, “Excuse me? I have much right to be-“

“Why? Why do you need to be there? Because she’s your daughter?”

His aunt’s face softened, as Steve continued, “I heard you talking to her parents.”

His aunt crossed her arms, as she confessed, “She is, and you and her so called family can’t stop me from seeing her-“

“Look, you can’t just waltz in there and tell her that you’re her mother.”

“Why not?”

There was a short moment of silence , before his aunt gasped as she clapped her hands to her mouth, before asking, “Wait, you two aren’t…?”

“What?! No!” Steve retorted with disgust. “How can you even think that?”

Steve took a deep breath, as she moved her hands down to her sides, before telling her,

“She’s been through enough as it is. She doesn’t need you unloading it on her too.”

“Well, she’ll find out sooner or later. And I rather tell her myself than someone else.”

After she had got out of the chair, she opened the door, finding Robin and Chrissy standing by the door.

Before her and Steve could say anything, Chrissy pulled Robin away, as she told them that they needed to get to school.

As they left, Steve’s aunt turned around and told Steve, “Like I said, she needs to hear it from me.”

Steve huffed, as he sternly stared at his aunt, questioning how you would react to the truth.

Next

[sweetchildofthine]

Doorway to Cannon

Summary: Y/N wakes up in a strange forest, still in her sari and heels, with no clue how she got there. Lost, disoriented, and unsure if she's dreaming, she stumbles onto a familiar-looking road and hitchhikes with the first car that stops. But when she sees who's inside… everything gets a whole lot weirder.

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 873

A/N: I've basically had this story written and saved for quite a while now. I'm going to try and post at least 2-3 chapters a day.

Chapter 2: The Wrong Kind of Familiar

Sunlight streamed through the canopy above, piercing through emerald leaves and landing softly on the forest floor. It was warm, gentle, and entirely wrong. You squinted against the brightness, breathing in air that felt far too fresh, far too crisp.

This has to be a dream, you reasoned, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. Things like this only happened in dreams, right? One moment you’re safe at home, and the next you're back in third-grade math class, sitting beside friends you've lost touch with years ago. Sudden shifts of place and time belonged strictly in dreams—not in reality.

Yet here you stood, heels sinking slightly into soft, mossy ground, the hem of your intricately embroidered sari catching on stray twigs. Dreams weren't supposed to feel so vivid, were they? Dreams blurred details, mixed faces, and made you accept impossible logic.

But the cool breeze whispering across your face felt unsettlingly real. So real, you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself, scanning the trees nervously. Dream or not, you weren't about to wait around and risk being mauled by a bear—or worse.

With no better plan, you began walking. It was awkward going; the delicate fabric snagged repeatedly, and each step made your ankles protest loudly. But still, you pressed forward, determined to find a way out of this bizarre dreamscape.

Eventually, the dense cluster of trees began to thin, giving way to an open road. Relief surged through your chest. You stumbled forward, stepping onto cracked asphalt that looked strangely familiar.

Had you seen this road before? No. Impossible. You’d never traveled far from home—hell, you’d hardly even explored your own city thoroughly. But still, that faint tug of recognition nagged at your mind.

Must’ve hyper-focused on something from a movie or show I was watching, you decided, shaking off the nagging sense of familiarity. That was logical enough for a dream.

You glanced up and down the empty road. Maybe a car would pass, and you'd catch a ride? It sounded logical—dream logic, anyway. Hitchhiking had never been your style, but desperate times. And if you really were dreaming…

After what felt like hours (but was probably minutes), the distant rumble of an engine reached your ears. Your pulse quickened. A thrill of excitement twisted in your stomach.

The car appeared slowly, emerging from a curve in the road. Sleek, antique, and gleaming black paint reflecting the sunlight. Your mouth fell open slightly, heart stuttering in disbelief. This car—you knew this car.

No way.

Heart hammering, you instinctively thrust out your thumb, feeling ridiculous yet utterly desperate. As the vehicle drew closer, your breath caught, excitement bubbling inside your chest. Please don't let me wake up yet, you silently pleaded. And please let me remember this when I do.

The car slowed, brakes easing to a gentle halt right beside you.

The driver leaned toward the open window, one arm casually draped across the steering wheel. Your mouth opened, then quickly snapped shut, eyes widening in disbelief.

He was unmistakable—green eyes glinting playfully, mouth curled into a charming half-smile.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he drawled, voice smooth as bourbon. "Need a lift?"

You opened your mouth again, but words refused to form.

A second man leaned forward from the passenger side, his brows furrowed in polite concern. Tall. Dark hair. Puppy eyes.

Oh, holy shit.

“Uh, you okay?” asked the passenger cautiously, his tone gentle. “Are you lost?”

The driver flashed you another grin. "Look, my brother and I are headed into town if you need a ride."

Your gaze flicked from one face to another—Dean Winchester grinning mischievously from the driver’s seat; Sam Winchester studying you with gentle concern from the passenger side.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside your chest, but dizziness overwhelmed you suddenly. Dreams shouldn't feel like this—the pounding heart, the cold sweat breaking out along your neck, the wave of nausea crashing over you.

"Oh my God," you breathed out, swaying slightly. "I—I think I'm going to pass out."

Dean raised his brows, amusement quickly turning into alarm. "Whoa! Hey—easy there, princess."

Before Sam could even move, Dean pushed open his door, swiftly stepping out and crossing around the car to steady you by the elbows. His fingers were warm, firm, reassuringly real.

"Sammy, quit staring like a confused moose and get the door open!" Dean called over his shoulder, even as his eyes softened with concern when he met your gaze. "Hey, you're okay. Take a deep breath for me."

"Sammy?" you echoed faintly, disbelief written clearly across your features. Your head spun, overwhelmed and dizzy.

Dean cocked his head, a playful smirk teasing at his lips again. "Yeah. Y’know—ridiculously tall, puppy-dog eyes, terrible haircut?"

"Dean—" Sam groaned from inside the car, pushing open the back door. "Really? Now?"

Dean flicked his gaze back to you, softer this time, gentle. "Now, come on, sweetheart, let’s get you seated before—"

But it was too late. Your vision tunneled, the edges of reality wavering dangerously.

As your knees buckled and darkness pulled you under, you heard Dean’s voice, softer and oddly comforting, fading into oblivion

"Aw, hell. Sammy, I think we broke her."

[grapejuice32]

Their first date

Rafe x angel!reader

more angel!reader here main masterlist here

word count: 1.7k a/n: requests are open

The sound of the clock was loud, echoing through your home as you sat by the door, you knee bouncing anxiously as you waited for Rafe. What if he wasn’t coming? What if he changed his mind? What if’s plagued you. It’s not like he was even running late, it was only ten to six, and still you sat there panicking, your mind running through all the bad outcomes that could come from this. Suddenly you weren’t sure your outfit was good enough, you ran back to your bedroom, staring at yourself in the mirror and scrutinizing everything wrong with it. Was it too much? Was it not enough? Did you have too much jewellery on? Was your make up too much? You were beginning to drive yourself insane as you stared at your reflection. It was only his knock on the door reverberating through the house that pulled you away from the mirror. 

You let loose a shaky breath and practically ran over to the front door. You stood in front of it and smoothed your clothes out before opening the door. The panicked look must have still been present on your face when you opened the door, despite you trying to school your expression, because his smile dropped slightly when he saw you, a look of concern taking over. 

“Hey, hey are y’okay?” He asked, his voice sweet, his eyebrows pulled together in a small frown. He placed his hands on your arms, his touch gentle as he pulled you a little closer, looking down at you worriedly.

Another shaky breath left you and you nodded, a small smile on your face as you felt slightly embarrassed by him seeing you in this state. “Yeah, I-I’m sorry. I just like, um sometimes get myself all like-” but you cut yourself off, not knowing how to explain it to him without him thinking your insane.

“Just get y’self-worked up sometimes, huh?” He stated more than asked, a knowing tone in his voice to which you could only nod. “Well, it’s all fine. ‘m here, ‘s all okay. We’re gonna go out, we’re gonna have dinner an’ ‘s all gonna be okay, yeah?” 

You bit your bottom lip, trying not to let it tremble. You knew it was stupid to get teary over something like this, but you couldn’t help it, nobody have ever talked to you this way when you got like this. In fact, nobody had ever talked to you this way at all, so maybe that’s why you couldn’t help but get emotional. “Sorry,” you whispered, trying to turn away so you could hide the building tears, but he shook his head, and pulled you into his side. 

“Come on, ‘s all okay.” He smiled, as if trying to convince you to feel better. He raised his brows and nodded in a way that had you nodding too. 

Neither of you spoke on the drive to the restaurant, but it wasn’t awkward, there was a peaceful silence. About halfway through the drive, he noticed you picking at your fingers and fiddling with your rings. So, he instinctively took his right hand off of the steering wheel and reached over to place it in your lap. Silently, you fiddled with his fingers, twisting the large gold ring that sat on one of his fingers. It all felt so natural to you, you didn’t even question his movements, it just felt right, and the contact calmed you down to no end. 

The restaurant was beautiful, candles were placed on the table and the two of you sat in a more dimly lit corner by the windows. After you’d finished eating, Rafe decided to take out somewhere else for dessert, the two of you stopping by the ice cream place you’d been at the day before. You weren’t as talkative as you had been the day before, and Rafe noticed but didn’t comment on it, wondering if it was just a rough day for you. 

When you finished your ice cream, Rafe slipped his much larger hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. Yours rings were poking into skin, but he didn’t mind, he was just glad you felt comfortable enough to let him hold it. As the time passed, you began to grow tired despite it not being all that late. You couldn’t help but yawn, nodding along to whatever Rafe had been saying and then leant your head against his bicep while you continued to walk. 

“Tired?” he said, you pulled your gaze way from the floor, only to notice that he’d already walked the both of you back to his car. You just hummed, nodding in response. “Okay, let’s get home, yeah angel?”

"Angel?” you asked softly as he opened your car door.

“ ‘s what you remind me of.”

“Really?” you weren’t convinced, not thinking you were very angelic at all.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, getting into the driver’s seat

The drive home was once again silent, his hand once again finding its way to your lap, where you took hold of his hand in both of yours. The radio was turned off, but the windows were down, the warm night air blowing through your hair, leaving it flowing wildly around you. 

He couldn’t help but take his gaze off of the road every few seconds to glance at you. The sun was still setting, leaving the sky a deep orange colour which was reflected in your face, bringing out your features. He could see your tired eyes, half-lidded by the time he pulled up at your house, where it was significantly darker. The shadows of tall trees loomed over your driveway, almost creating an eerie atmosphere. 

Neither of you moved to get out of the car when he pulled up, you didn’t want the night to end, and you felt guilty that you were the reason that it was cut short. You looked down at your lap, your eyes fixed on the way his hand was relaxed in your lap while you played with his fingers. “Thank you for the flowers.” Your voice was small as you spoke.

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could hear the smile in his voice, “Did y’like them?”

“Yeah, they’re really pretty.”

“That’s good.” It was only when you yawned that he moved his hand out of your lap and opened his car door. You were quiet as he walked around the front of the car to the passenger side, opening the door for you. “Let’s get you t’bed, yeah?” You nodded, fishing through your bag to find your keys. 

The door swung open when you unlocked it, the hinges a bit loose and creaky. You stood in the doorway, looking at him as you bit your lip in contemplation. His hands were in his pockets as he ran his eyes over your figure.

“Do you um, do you wanna come inside?” You spoke quietly, hesitantly. You didn’t often have people in your house. When he opened his mouth to answer you panicked and spoke quickly, “To see the flowers.”

“Of course.” He nodded, waiting for you to let him in. 

“Okay,” came your whispered voice as you stepped aside, letting him into your house. You shut the door behind him, locking it out of habit and began to turn on some of your lamps in the otherwise dark house. 

It was awkward as the two of you stood in the hallway, neither of you really knowing what to say or to do. Rafe didn’t want to intrude on your space, and you just had no clue because of inexperience. He looked around statically, catching your eyes which prompted you to shoot him an awkward smile. 

You were kicking yourself for being so awkward and unwelcoming, “Do you want a drink or something?”

“No, I’m uh, I’m good thanks.”

The awkwardness was back, and it was worse. That was when an idea dawned on you, “Do you wanna meet my cat?” He nodded instantly and so you lead him through your house, trying to find your cat who ended up being curled up on your bed.  Rafe looked around your room, taking in all the lacy fabrics draped on your four-poster bed like curtains. It was hard to miss your cat, his black fur stood out in the sheets. “This is Cullen.” You said sweetly as you sat beside your cat on the bed.

“Cullen?” He asked, making sure he’d heard right.

“Yeah, like The Cullens.” His blank and clueless look made you keep going, wanting to explain the significance to him. “Like from Twilight, The Cullens…Edward Cullen?” It was then that recognition flashed in his eyes. 

You weren’t sure how, but the two of you had ended up at on your bed as you explained the plot of all five Twilights to him, he lay there listening intently, nodding along and not interrupting you once. It was only when you were done that you noticed the time, causing you to slump a bit, realising he probably had to go home. He looked over to your clock and sighed as he saw the time, “I should probably head home.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, you didn’t really want him to leave but you knew he had to, “thank you for tonight.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.” The name had a blush spread across your face as you walked him out the house. 

“I don’t have your number yet,” you responded, not knowing what else to say.

“I know, how ‘bout I give it to you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you nodded, beaming up at him as he placed his hands on your hips, the heat of them seeping through your clothes. 

“Okay,” he repeated, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?” To which you nodded. The two of you said goodbye, he started got in his car and started the engine, waving at you before he drove off. You closed your door, resting your head against it and squealed giddily. 

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I imagine it like this: he's a big time gangster, rugged and cruel most of the time, he's hasn't really tried relationships bc he knows they won't work with his job.

And then he's being chauffered around town and he's bored, gazing out the window and when we get a stop sign, there i am, just standing on the corner in a cute little dress, waiting for the bus. He only sees me for a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. He's trying to memorize everything about me as the car rolls away, and he can't stop thinking about me.

So he goes searching for me. Has some of his goons look for a chubby woman who he vaguely remembers, and they come back with photos but none of them are me and he's frustrated. Finally, after what feels like years, one of his workers finds me and he's ecstatic.

He finds out my name, my job, where i live, my family, even the name of my cat. He makes a plan, consults with a few coworkers he trusts, trying to decide how to meet me. He decides to find a dog that is sick and needs veterinary attention, bc he knows i work at a vet. He makes sure everything lines up so he can meet me, and when i enter the room he feels his heart race, he's never felt like this before.

I'm sweet, I'm kind, im beautiful, he's smitten. Doesn't make a move on me then and there but he does go through with the appointment, trying to talk to me casually.

Later on, he sends flowers as a "thank you" to the "office", but he thanks me personally on the card. Then he caters some food to go there, something he knows I'll like. And then he just keeps sending things and attaching notes to me personally, hoping that I'll start to like him. His latest note has his phone number on it, asking if we could talk in private as opposed to him continuing to send letters.

Imagine his joy when I text him, when we start talking, late night texts and phone calls, getting to know each other. He adores me, loves talking to me, hearing my voice. He asks to take me on a date, excited when i accept. He tries to make it as normal as possible, but things can only be so normal woth body guards and 5 star service.

And he tries to hide his job, but he's just too suspicious. Comes around with blood splatters on his clothes. V suspicious man

Need a mafia boss to see me on the street and become obsessed with me and bring me flowers at my job

[suugiart]

You ever love a character so much that you wish you could legitimately kin them, but instead of accumulating any of their cool traits, you turn out to have one of the worst attributes you could have in common?

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane characters finding you asleep at their workplace

The devil works hard, but I work a little harder, so I’m back to writing Arcane headcanons a month before season two comes out.

Jayce:  

- Strong sense of guilt,  

- The first thing that comes to his mind is that you must have waited for him for a long time to fall asleep 

- He will make it up to you by trying to cook something for you, stopping to buy your favorite sweets before heading home, and giving you a shoulder massage the moment you sit down somewhere after you wake up.  

- The man of the Hamlet-like dilemma: he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.  

- If he has something urgent to do, he’ll try to cover your shoulders with something, even just his jacket, to keep you warm while he finishes only the essentials.  

- Once he’s free, he will very gently try to lift you from the chair, apologizing when you wake up and mumble something incoherent.  

Viktor:  

- In the early years of university, it sometimes happened that he found you in his room asleep, slumped over on a chair or bed with your shoes still on.  

- But as the years went by and the lab became his main space, that sight became a constant, repeating at least twice a week.  

- He tries to make as little noise as possible, whether with his aides, the door, or the stack of books and notebooks he needs to organize.  

- Before getting to work, he leaves the room again to bring you your favorite hot drink with a plastic lid pressed on top, so it doesn’t cool down.  

- Then, in complete silence, he works, deciding what to leave for tomorrow and what to do now, so he can finish as soon as possible without delaying too much.  

Ekko:  

- It’s hard to define what exactly a workplace is for Ekko,  

- But he often finds you at the Firelights' tree, in that room that’s supposed to be his, having likely sneaked in through the window to surprise him.  

- There are days when he comes back fairly early but stays to tell stories to the kids, and others when things go wrong, and he returns when it’s already dark, and almost everyone is asleep

- Finding you like this always makes him feel the absence of something more stable

- But he shakes his head and quickly pushes aside doubts about his ideals, stepping out of the room again and making more noise as he enters again, so you wake up, and he can pretend to be surprised in front of your open eyes.  

- By now, you know he steps out and comes back in, but it makes you smile every single time.

Vander:  

- You always sit at a table in the back of the Last Drop to wait for him, trying not to bother him, doodling, doing calculations, or planning something for the next day just to keep yourself entertained.  

- But by now, the sound of drunkards and the clinking of coins and glasses have become background noise that helps lull you into a catatonic state.  

- Vander usually notices after about an hour that you've fallen asleep; he always keeps an eye on you, but sometimes the customers cause problems.  

- He doesn’t like leaving you there, so far away, so he usually waits for a quieter moment to come over, pick you up, and bring you behind the counter, laying you down with your arms and head resting on the wooden bar.  

- He knows it’s not a big improvement, but his priority is to keep you safe.  

- When he finishes working, he closes the bar without doing the closing duties, sets his alarm for earlier than usual, and carries you to your room in his arms, covering your forehead with kisses.  

Silco:  

- The problem with Silco finding you asleep in his office is that he rarely arrives alone.  

- There’s always either Sevika or at least two other henchmen following him.  

- He sighs and sends them away, not without Sevika giving him a provocative look that means everything and nothing.  

- He hates those situations because part of him feels a strange warmth at the thought of you sneaking into his office for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he knows it negatively affects his image to be seen as a leader who tolerates certain insubordinations.  

- Because sneaking into the kingpin’s office is something that would get almost anyone else outside decapitated. But not you.  

- He huffs, pacing the room to deal with both emotions, and when he finally calms down, he approaches you, shaking you slightly to wake you up.  

- It’s certainly not the gentlest gesture on his part, but most of the time, it ends with you either going back to sleep in his bed while he works, or sitting on his lap while he flips through papers without paying them much attention.  

Jinx:  

- She can’t contain her excitement at all. When she notices your figure in her workshop, she always lets out a little happy sound that wakes you up.  

- From there, she immediately starts apologizing at least a thousand times, feeling guilty for waking you up but still too happy that you came to visit her.  

- She helps you up, talking nonstop about her day and anything that comes to mind as she leads you outside.  

- It’s not because she doesn’t want you around, but because she assumes you must be hungry as soon as you wake up, so before you're fully awake, you’ll find yourself at the Last Drop with enough food in front of you to feed her father’s entire gang of henchmen.  

- And she will absolutely feed you herself when she sees you haven’t taken a bite in too long, while stealing food here and there and continuing to talk.  

Vi:  

- For her, too, a "workplace" is a somewhat vague concept,  

- But in return, she has her secret spot, where she hides at night and tries to survive when she’s not out on the streets looking for trouble.  

- Every time she finds you there, she feels an indescribable pang in her heart.  

- She always feels like she’s neglecting the person she loves and failing to make you understand how much she cares about you.  

- She always hesitates before waking you up; sometimes she’ll even go change into clean clothes and wash the grime off her hands and face first.  

- Then she’ll wake you by sitting next to you, giving you a kiss, calling you by a silly nickname only the two of you know, and rubbing her forehead against yours before asking, with a rhetorical smile,  

- "Did you miss me?"

Caitlyn:  

- Sometimes you find yourself in the inner waiting room of the precinct, with her colleagues pointing out your body slumped in the chair and raising their eyebrows, teasing her. Other times, you simply sneak into her room, which isn’t much different from the police station anyway.  

- Every time, she sighs and gently wakes you, her pale eyes a little sad.  

- “Why didn’t you call me?” It doesn’t matter to her that you didn’t want to disturb her, because to her, you’re never a disturbance. It’s not a problem to have you around, even in public. She just feels bad that you waited instead of telling her, so she could have come much sooner.  

- She takes you away from the station without any issues, letting you continue resting against her shoulder as a Kiramman private vehicle takes you both to her home.  

- If you’re already in her room, she usually changes and lies down next to you, taking the chance to nap together, wrapped in each other's arms.  

Mel:  

- Falling asleep inside the Senate? Impossible.  

- But the keys to her office and her room are always in your pocket, and you usually bring her something to eat when you visit, though by the time you fall asleep, both the coffee and the treats are cold.  

- She’s not used to displays of affection, so she stays still for a few seconds before smiling and shaking her head.  

- She doesn’t wake you immediately, not because she doesn’t want to, but because if the sound of the door didn’t wake you, you probably need the rest. So she lets you sleep for at least 30 minutes before coming over, brushing your hair behind your ears to wake you, laughing when you lift your head with your eyes still closed.  

Sevika:  

- The first thing anyone would think is that falling asleep at the Last Drop is extremely dangerous. However, Silco’s henchmen aren’t too different from bipedal dogs by now; they know who you are, recognize your face and scent, and if they notice you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, at least three of them sit at your table to ensure your safety.  

- Sevika is always tasked with the worst imaginable jobs—tedious, long, and often dangerous—so when she finally returns, it’s usually either time to open the bar to the public or time to close it.  

- Even when she sees you, she can’t come to you right away, so she makes a face at whoever is watching over you, as if urging them to protect you better while she heads into the office.  

- Like Silco, part of her feels subconsciously softened by the idea that someone would feel the physical need to be with her so much that they’d wait, sitting until they fell asleep.  

- But on the other hand, she’s terrified that someone might see you and come after you to settle personal scores in a cowardly way.  

- When she finally comes down, she pulls you into her arms without saying a word, holding you under her large cape as she carries you away.  

[humanjarvis]

road trip

synopsis: you get revenge on caleb during his graduation trip.

tags: nsfw (mdni), semi-public sex, dry humping, caleb fucks around (figuratively) and finds out, caleb/mc are intimate before homecoming wings, caleb whimpers, caleb wheezes, caleb begs, caleb is pathetic, caleb comes in his pants while mc ignores him  pairing: caleb x reader, reader is mc but uses y/n word count: 968

a/n: i literally got up at 8 am on a sunday to write this i am not well 

As excited as you’d been to commemorate Caleb's last year of college, his graduation trip to the aerospace museum was off to a rocky start. 

Last night, he’d suddenly shut down your plans to celebrate your friend’s birthday before you went out of town, joining his friends’ road trip as his plus-one. He’d said you needed to get some rest before your 8-hour journey, but with the way his eyes went wide and nostrils flared when he saw your outfit, you knew that wasn’t the only reason. 

You’d spent the rest of the night and the next morning angry, and it only got worse when Caleb’s friends came to pick you up. One extra person had decided to come last-minute, meaning there weren’t enough seats for all of you, no matter how tightly you squeezed together. 

As the closest pair in the group, you were forced to sit on Caleb's lap. You’d seethed in unprecedented indignation as he guided you down on him, the scowl on your face widening the smirk on his. 

An hour into the drive, you’re still staring out the window in rage, Caleb's arms secured tightly around you, when you realize something. You know this route. You’d traveled it a couple years prior for your senior trip in high school on the way to some world-renowned aquarium. 

At your realization, your frustration turns into opportunity. The roads on this route are a pothole-ridden nightmare from years of government neglect, and you’re going to use this intel to make Caleb pay. 

Discreetly, you slide yourself further back on his legs, positioning your ass right over his crotch. You conceal your movements through a conversation with Gideon’s girlfriend that you bring to an abrupt end once you’re settled. It’s time for your game to begin. 

At first, you’re subtle. Matching the rhythm of the bumpy ride, you lightly jostle in Caleb’s hold, feeling his fingers flex around your waist. 

“Careful, pipsqueak,” he murmurs in warning. “Wouldn’t want you sliding off.” 

You don’t respond. Your earlier anger is the perfect excuse not to acknowledge him through this entire thing, and you silently bless your short temper. He’s going to unravel with your back turned, you facing forward, your eyes on everything but him. 

When the car hits a small pothole, you lean back into him, “innocently” grinding your ass into his crotch. Immediately, Caleb wheezes behind you, almost concussing both of you the way he falls forward in shock. 

“What are you doing,” he hisses when he recovers, his words more an admonishment than a question. 

Resolutely, you pay him no mind, striking up a group discussion about the museum. What kinds of planes do they have there? How big is it? Have any of you ever been? And all the while, you continue tormenting the man beneath you, using the cavities of the road to assist. 

On one particularly sharp turn, you grind your hips into him a little harder, feeling the outline of his bulge between your legs. At this point, Caleb has caught on. Taking heaving breaths, he leans into your shoulder with a soft groan, muttering, “Don’t do this to me, Y/N. Not here, please.”

As he whispers into your ear, his absence from the larger conversation takes center stage. “You alright back there, Caleb?” Gideon calls from the driver’s seat. “Need any water? A/C?” 

“I’m fine,” Caleb grits out, barely managing to mask his grunt. 

Smiling to yourself, you adjust on his lap as you peer through the windshield, taking in the busy scene ahead of you. There’s some kind of festival going on, it seems, and half the street is blocked by a colorful array of vehicles. The lack of space forces Gideon’s full-size SUV onto the gravelly edge of the road.

Perfect, you think. Time for the grand finale. 

Bracing your hands on Caleb's thighs for support, you let the rest of your body go limp, leaving yourself completely at the mercy of the rocks ruining Gideon’s paint job. Up and down, up and down, up and down you went, virtually bouncing on Caleb’s growing erection. 

“Please,” he whimpers into your ear, not daring to speak above a whisper. Another bounce, and his hands are grasping at your hips while he throws his head back, jaw clenched shut. 

Dutifully, you ignore his cries and your own sticky arousal, refusing to falter until you get what you want. 

As he grows even harder beneath you, Caleb’s pleas grow more frantic. “Y/N, please. I-I’m sorry for last night, just—please. Fuck, please,” he stammers, a tremor in his voice. 

Just as the final plea leaves his mouth, an especially deep pothole throws you from his lap and a few inches into the air. A second later, gravity sends you crashing back down onto his aching, straining cock, and you feel it. Caleb comes hard, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, eyes closing in a mix of ecstasy and shame. To avoid suspicion, he buries his face into your shoulder while he rides out the rest of his high, pitiful whimpers and groans drowned out by the chords of cheerful pop songs on the radio. 

Reveling in the way Caleb’s whines vibrate through your skin, you turn your head slowly, checking your reflections in the rear-view mirror. When the coast is clear, you press a soft, teasing kiss to his hair, to which he twitches under you.

You’re filled with a wicked, awful glee, but you keep your face a mask of nonchalance as you call out, “Hey Gideon, can we stop at a gas station soon? I need to freshen up.”

For the rest of the trip, the Caleb who’d been so proud to forbid you from going out couldn’t meet your gaze, flushing crimson every time he saw you. 

[ahqkas]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesn’t know they have hero identities yet and they find out s/o has some merch of their hero side at their house? S/o just thinks that heroes neat and uses one of the figures as a door stopper so the door does not slam when it’s windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesn’t go flying everywhere?

♯SECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS

— gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT STARTED OUT LIKE ANY OTHER MORNING AT WAYNE MANOR. the first rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains of bruce’s grand bedroom, the golden light pooling across the floor. you shuffled out of bed, your feet cold against the hardwood, and grabbed the nearest hoodie to ward off the chill. you’ve never been a morning bird. but what would change it now?

unbeknownst to you, bruce was already awake, freshly showered and shaved, nursing a steaming cup of coffee alfred made for him in the kitchen. he was going over the morning’s headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like this—quiet, unhurried—were rare but cherished.

“morning,” you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning,” he replied, glancing up from the paper. the casual warmth in his voice faltered the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

you were wearing that hoodie. black, oversized, and emblazoned with a bright yellow bat-symbol on the front. he recognized it immediately—he’d seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. he’d even scoffed at the inaccuracies back then, not expecting you to own one, let alone wear it. and now you were draped in his merch.

bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality. “what are you wearing?” ( curiosity on the outside , panic on the inside ) . what if you knew of his nighttime activities?

glancing down at yourself and your choice of clothing, you tugged at the hem absentmindedly. “oh, this? yeah, i love it. it’s super comfy. got it on sale a while back.”

“you’re a fan of batman?”

you gave him a curious look. “who isn’t? he’s gotham’s hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.” you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. “though i guess it’s a little weird wearing merch of someone who’s technically, like, a crime boss for good.”

bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. “crime boss?”

“well, think about it,” you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. “he’s got henchmen—like robin and nightwing—and a lair filled with gadgets. he’s just . . . on the good side.”

the batman fought the urge to laugh. he leaned back in his chair, observing you with a mix of affection and amusement. who knew he had such a lovie around his finger? “that’s one way to look at it,” he replied smoothly, though he couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. “why? you don’t like him?”

his brows arched, genuinely curious. “what makes you say that?”

“you’re awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think he’s amazing or a total menace. you’re, like, switzerland on batman,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“let’s just say . . . i have a unique perspective.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LAZY AFTERNOONS WHERE THE TWO OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO STAY IN. the sun filtered through the curtains of your cozy apartment, casting warm, golden light across the room as you lay curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while dick was sprawled in an armchair across from you, pretending to do his own stuff at his phone but mostly watching you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

everything was perfectly normal—until he noticed what you were wearing.

it was a t-shirt, oversized and clearly one of your go-to comfy options. but not just any shirt. emblazoned across the chest was the bold, angular symbol of nightwing, printed in that unmistakable electric blue. now that got his attention.

dick blinked, lowering the glowing screen slightly to get a better look at you. for a moment, he felt a mix of pride, amusement, and sheer panic wash over him. you had nightwing merch? did you know? were you teasing him? or had you just picked it up as a casual fan of blüdhaven’s vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.

“nice shirt,” he commented casually, though his voice had an edge of curiosity, asking you with saying the question out loud.

you glanced up, oblivious to his sudden attention. “oh, this?” you plucked at the hem and grinned. “yeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guy’s kinda awesome, you know?”

he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. “kinda awesome?”

“okay, really awesome,” you gave in with a laugh. “i mean, he’s out there keeping blüdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesn’t have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.”

your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “sounds like you’re a pretty big fan.” talk about narcissism.

“well, yeah, who wouldn’t be? he’s smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen his—” you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.

“seen his what?” dick was intrigued even more now after your little slip up, leaning forward with his smirk deepening. oh, he was just starting.

you waved a hand dismissively, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “nothing. forget i said anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because you’re a fan, or . . . ?”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. “what’s with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?”

“me? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,” he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement—and the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.

“good,” you teased, leaning back into the pillows. “because if i ever run into him, i’ll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.”

dick laughed, shaking his head a little. “oh, i’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

seeing you in his symbol was both endearing and a little surreal. part of him wanted to come clean right then and there, to tell you that the guy you admired so much was sitting right across from you, teasing you about your t-shirt. but for now, he decided to keep his secret.

still, as he watched you lounge in that nightwing tee, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest. if you only knew the truth, he had a feeling you’d still think he was kind of awesome—though he wasn’t sure you’d ever let him live down the spandex comments.

. . . JASON TODD !

IT WAS A BREEZY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and the windows of your small apartment were wide open, letting the crisp, cool air in. papers were strewn across your desk as you worked on sorting through bills and notes. to keep the occasional gust from scattering everything, you’d grabbed the closest thing you could find—an action figure.

( not just any action figure, though. )

sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gotham’s infamous red hood, complete with his signature leather jacket, red helmet, and pistols. even the little red bat on his chest matched the original.

your boyfriend walked in, carrying takeout bags in both hands as he kicked the front door shut behind him, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “babe, i got—” he froze mid-sentence when he spotted the figure perched on your desk. his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

no fucking way.

“is that . . . ?”

you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. “huh?”

he set the bags down on the counter, crossed the room in a few strides, and picked up the small figurine. jason held it up, examining it with an almost comical mix of horror and amusement on his face.

“this,” he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, “is red hood merch.”

“yeah, and?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.

“and?” he repeated, incredulous. “why do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?”

“no, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, he’s kind of a badass.”

jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. “you think he’s a badass?”

“yeah, don’t you?” you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. “what, are you jealous of a figurine now?”

his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. “jealous? no,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. “i just think it’s funny that you’re using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, don’t you think?”

you laughed. “oh, please. i’m sure gotham’s notorious anti-hero doesn’t care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.”

“honored?” jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “yeah, i’m sure that’s exactly what he’d feel.”

you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what’s with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?”

he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your desk—albeit more carefully than he’d picked it up. “oh, yeah, totally. i’ve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.”

“hm, i bet you do,” you teased, grinning as you watched him retreat to unpack the takeout.

jason shook his head, his smirk lingering as he pulled out the food. internally, he was debating how to feel about the whole situation. on one hand, the fact that you admired red hood (even if you didn’t know it was him) was oddly flattering. on the other, the sight of his miniature self keeping your papers in line was downright hilarious.

as he set the table, he couldn’t resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. “just saying, if you’re such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.”

“oh, relax,” you shot back, laughing. “if he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.”

jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. “careful what you wish for, babe.”

don’t be surprised when red hood comes knocking on your door, sweetheart!

. . . TIM DRAKE !

THE NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN and tim was stretched out on your couch in your apartment, his phone resting on his lap as we tiredly watched the tv. the soft hum of the crime documentary filled the background as you dug through your bag by the door, fishing around for your keys.

“found them!” you declared, holding them up triumphantly.

tim glanced over with a small smile tugging at his lips. you were adorable like this, excited over the smallest things. “that’s a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.”

you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. “it’s not about the keys, it’s about this little guy.”

you held up the ring, pointing specifically at a tiny lego figure hanging off of it. the miniature figure wore a domino mask and a red-and-black suit with a yellow “R” emblazoned on the chest—a miniature red robin.

your boyfriend froze on the spot. his brain seemed to hit a wall as he stared at the tiny version of himself dangling from your keys. the little figure swayed slightly, as though mocking him.

“ . . . where did you get that?”

“oh, isn’t it cute?” you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. “i found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought it’d make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.”

tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?

“you’re a fan of red robin?” he asked carefully, tilting his head.

you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s kind of underrated, though, don’t you think?”

“underrated?”

“yeah!” you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. “i mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwing—and robin, obviously—but red robin? he’s like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?”

tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. “so, he’s your favorite, then?”

“mmm,” you pretended to consider. “he’s up there. though nightwing’s a close second. sorry, but the guy’s got moves.”

he snorted, leaning back against the couch. “can’t argue with that.”

“but red robin’s, like, the total package,” you continued, gesturing animatedly. “he’s clever, he’s got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesn’t get as much attention, so he’s probably not as cocky as some of the others.”

your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. “not as cocky?”

“yeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?” you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. “plus, he’s got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.”

tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. “so you carry him around everywhere?”

“of course,” you said, grinning. “he’s like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.”

he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. “you’re something else, you know that?”

part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally him—but there was something too sweet, too hilarious about the situation to ruin it just yet. besides, you looked genuinely happy talking about red robin, and he kind of liked seeing himself through your eyes, even if you didn’t know it. he made a silent vow to tell you the truth soon. but for now, he let you keep your little lego protector, amused and endeared by the fact that you unknowingly carried a tiny version of him wherever you went.

[loveanddeepdick]

cw: stalking, obsession, borderline insane geto, piv sex, sneaky photos, everything is consensual (kinda)

obsessed!geto who gifts you a small golden heart locket for your one year anniversary. he took you out on a date to your favorite restaurant, setting the mood as best as he possibly could before he took out the small velvet box from his pocket.

“sugu—! is this..?”, your mouth fell agape before he chuckled lowly, shaking his head and grabbing your hand.

“no, no, sweetheart, it’s a necklace,” he opened the box, “and when you open it.. it’s the color of our eyes together”.

your hands flew to your mouth, covering your little squeal before he closed the box again.

obsessed!geto who puts it on when you both get home, standing behind you in front of the mirror as he runs his hands over your shoulders. he leans in, softly planting a kiss on the top of your head before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you look beautiful”

it wasn’t a lie. to him, you were the epitome of perfection, the way the little gold heart rested on your collarbone, it complimented your eyes in the best way possible. but if he was honest, he didn’t get the locket just for looks, no. it was to make his job easier.

obsessed!geto who was infatuated with you the moment he laid his eyes on you, following you from a distance everywhere you went. your schedule had been burned into his brain like a tattoo, even the small changes going unnoticed from him.

the route you took home, the shortcut you took when your feet hurt, who you hung out with, when your parents visited, he even knew if you window was locked from how it looked from the outside.

he studied the type of guys you liked, breaking into a grin when he realized he was the perfect one for you already, like the red string of fate already tied you two together.

he started his photo collection from the moment you had your first conversation together. he’d run into you at a cafe you visited frequently. you had mistaken him as your friend, talking to him while his back was turned. when he did face you, you turned 10 shades darker, the cup you were sipping from now on the table as your hands came up to your face to hide your embarrassment as you profusely apologized.

he already knew who you were, he’s seen you hang out with satoru and you had other mutual friends. smiling, he reassured that it was just an honest mistake. he’d been fixated on your outfit. noticing that you’d been wearing a shirt of the same band on his shirt. as you left, excusing yourself politely as you grabbed your coffee off the counter again.

picking up his cup, he noticed something off. you left with up his drink instead. pulling out his phone, he took a picture of your drink order. he contained his grin as best as he could when he noticed whatever you had on your lips had left a residue on the cup, bringing it up to his lips as he cherished the remnants of you. he decided on the spot that he had to have more.

obsessed!geto who did have your location after a couple months of dating but he wanted something more. what if you lost your phone? what if it died? he wanted to track you in the most humane way possible, of course. knowing you, you’d never take off a gift from him.

obsessed!geto who watches you move with the necklace from his phone, smiling as he realized the clock hit 12:00pm and you started your lunch break, watching as you walked out the building to him already waiting in his car. he’s a gentleman of course, getting out to open the door for you as you climbed into the passenger seat

“hey beautiful, how about we hit that new ramen place for lunch, yeah?”

“ooh! sounds good! hm.. you get spicy and i get savory so we can balance!”, you smiled warmly, buckling yourself in.

geto could only chuckle, nodding as he rested his hands onto the wheel.

my perfect girl

obsessed!geto who goes crazy when he sees the necklace bounce with your tits when he fucks you. his favorite position switching from prone bone to missionary since he gets the best view of the necklace bouncing in the valley of your pretty tits.

he reaches out, one hand on your hip and one caressing your chest, his hands running over your mounds and your collarbone all the way to the necklace as he marvels in the sight. he leans in closer, trapping you under his arms as his cock reaches deeper inside you.

“my pretty girl, fuck, you look so good like this, can feel this messy fuckin pussy squeezing me so good”

“s-sugu! m’gonna cum!”, you hiccup as the sight of him caging you in his arms has your pussy gushing.

“cum for me, cum on my cock, beautiful—fuck, yeah just like that.. i can feel her so good, who does this fucking pussy belong to?”

“you, sugu, you! fuck—!”

“damn right, you belong to me”

[readwritealldayallnight]

“But what if you hate it?”

“I can tell ya I wouldn’t, because it’d be yours.”

“Okay but what if you actually do really hate it, and you can’t tell me because you just said that?”

“Love, ya don’ have to do this. I didn’t wan’ this to stress ya-”

“No! No, Simon I want to do it. It’s such a sweet idea you had, I’ll do another one.” You finally decide, putting the pen back to paper, unable to bring yourself to actually draw.

“Could always take any o’ the ones from the bin.” He offers, nodding his head over towards the overflowing waste basket surrounded by crumbled up pieces of paper, evidence of your many previous attempts.

When SImon had brought up the idea of you drawing something for him to add to his sleeve to represent you, you’d jumped at the opportunity, loving the idea. However, you’d all too quickly discovered that you were having issues committing to the idea of what to draw, and Simon was refusing to offer any ideas, wanting the idea and design to be entirely yours.

Appropriate to his call sign, your first instinct had been to try drawing different versions of ghosts, but each one felt too cartoony, too childish, and you passed on that idea.

Then you thought you would draw your own little skull, something that could more easily be incorporated into the images and not be totally out of theme. But the next issue to come to light though, was when the connection between you brain and your hand apparently forgot entirely how to draw a skull, and you hated everything that came up on paper.

“S’that a lightbulb?” He’d asked at one point, and the skull idea was quickly out the window too.

From there, you were worried he wouldn’t like any of your drawings, as you couldn’t bring yourself to like any them either. You’d both agreed to put a pin in it for the time being, and as the weeks passed, you nearly forgot about his request.

That was until, he came home with a plastic wrapping around his forearm.

“You hurt?” You ask him, immediately spotting the darker bandages peeking out from the edges of his sleeve as he removes his jacket.

“Nah, just got somethin’ done.” He replies, sauntering over to you, slowly folding up his sleeve to reveal more of his pale skin.

“Huh?

Instead of answering, he carefully unravels the outer layer of bandages, before slowly peeling back the bandage to show you the skin underneath, an overly pleased grin stretching across his face, chuckle bursting through as your stunned gasp echoes through your shared flat.

Forever on his skin, Simon has tattooed something you’d drawn in the first birthday card you ever gave him. In your handwriting, he can always glance down at himself and see both your and his initial with a plus sign between them, surrounded by a little heart with an arrow going through it. When you’d drawn it for him, never in a million years had you thought he would be etching the corny doodle onto himself permanently, but now, that same doodle is his favourite thing to look at when away on deployment.

[bunnis-monsters]

Haunted

Male!Yandere Poltergeist x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 13th

Oct 12

Oct 14

summary: when you’re dared to go to a haunted house, you bring something inhuman back with you.

warnings: dubcon, somno, breeding, belly bulge, pregnancy

A/N: this is a 6k word commission!!

When your friends dared you to check out a haunted house, of course you accepted. You were never one to turn down a dare, even if you were afraid.

Tying back your hair, you made sure you packed your flashlight and water before tying your shoes and heading out.

It had been rainy recently. Puddles littered the ground, and the sky was a sad gray. The news reporter mentioned a thunderstorm that night… but you shrugged it off.

‘I’ll be home before then, everything is going to be okay. As long as I make it out before 8 pm, I can be back at my apartment before it’s too stormy to walk home safely.’

In the past few years, you had taken an interest in the paranormal, occasionally visiting haunted hot spots and taking a look. Your friends said they found it creepy and dangerous, but now they were daring you to go check out an abandoned building… maybe they were changing their minds?

You stopped as the sidewalk ended and wild grass began. It seemed no one cleaned and maintained the sidewalk past this point, allowing the grass to become overgrown.

‘That’s inconvenient. Hope I don’t slip…’

Taking careful steps, you wandered further down the road, making sure to be aware of your surroundings. You weren’t exactly in a great part of town, there had even recently been a robbery in a neighborhood nearby.

But from what you heard from your friends, most people steered clear of the haunted house, fearing that they would be cursed if they stepped in.

You, however, were far from afraid. In fact, you were super excited to see if the rumors were true! Of course you were a bit nervous, but it paled in comparison to your excitement.

The abandoned house before you was two stories high, with large windows covered in boards that had been nailed in after a few break-ins.

You could tell the house had been white at some point in time, but now it was almost a grayish yellow, the paint chipping away to reveal the wood underneath.

The porch had a few holes which you attempted to avoid, but yelped when you stepped on a weak floorboard and fell through.

Thankfully you were able to pull your foot out of the toe easily with only a few scratches on your ankle.

As you walked in, the smell of decay and rot hit your nose, making you cover it with your sleeve. The house had been abandoned for years now, and if you hadn’t known, you’d think it had never been lived in at all.

Perhaps items had been stolen, or maybe nothing had ever been there in teb first place, because the house was bare. No furniture or personal items besides a few chairs and tables on the first floor… there aren’t even any appliances in the kitchen.

“I guess even the oven was taken.”

You glanced around the kitchen, noticing a space meant for an oven, but lacking one. “I wonder if it’s different upstairs…”

Climbing up the steps wasn’t easy, and you feared you would fall with each step you climbed. Your foot even fell through one, nearly knocking you off balance!

“Crap! Agh… maybe I shouldn’t go upstairs…”

But… you had to. You weren’t sure why, but something was drawing you upstairs, beckoning you to explore…

When you finally reached the top of the staircase, you sighed in relief. At least the flooding looked stable enough, no holes and the boards weren’t too creaky…

There were three doors to explore, and you decided to look into the closest one first.

The door was plain white, and upon opening it you were met with a pretty basic bedroom. A bed and a dresser, with a broken lamp sitting on a nightstand.

The next room was mostly empty, only a bare bed with a few leaves that flew in from the broken window.

The last room wasn’t easy to get into. You struggled with the doorknob for a moment, then broke it. That allowed you to get in, but you did feel bad breaking something without a good reason.

Walking into the room, the first thing you noticed was how clean it was.

There wasn’t a spec of dust on the bed or nightstand, as if someone had been keeping everything meticulously clean. This was a stark contrast to the other dirty, disheveled rooms covered in dust and debris that was common for a long since abandoned house.

You tread lightly, knowing that upper floors in old houses like these could sometimes be dangerous. The wood could have rotted, or maybe termites chewed through and created thin spots in the floor.

A shimmer out of the corner of your eye made you turn. On the nightstand was a silver locket, shining I’m the evening sun.

“Oh wow, is that real silver?”

You picked it up, turning it in the light to get a good look at it. It seemed to be well taken care of, but it was jammed shut. Despite you trying to open it multiple times, you couldn’t seem to.

Suddenly it felt… strangely warm, and had a slight tremble to it. The locket almost felt like it was.. pulsating…

You felt a strange urge to take it with you…

“Well… no one has lived here for years. It… shouldn’t matter if I take it home.”

After tucking it away in your pocket, you made it downstairs and got ready to leave.

For a moment you considered staying longer and exploring the basement and backyard, but suddenly your thigh felt like it was burning!

You yelped, running outside and reaching into your pocket. The second you were outside of the house, the burning feeling was gone.

Had the locket suddenly become hot or were you just imagining things?

Regardless, you decided that going home was for the best. It was getting late after all, and you weren’t a fan of being outside when it got dark out.

As it started to sprinkle lightly right as you got home, you were grateful you left when you did. You might have been trapped in that old house for the night if you had explored any further.

A strange thought came to your head just then. Did… the locket know it was going to rain?

‘That’s ridiculous…’ you thought to yourself as you changed out of your damp clothes, looking at the locket while you turned on the shower.

‘It’s just a necklace…’

You stepped in, letting the water wash over your body and warm you up. It felt nice, after exploring such an old and dusty house to get all clean and watch the dirt wash away.

You placed a hand over your soft belly, rubbing the soap inyo your skin. “Mmm…”

The shower was relaxing for a bit, but you nearly jumped out of your skin when you caught something in your peripheral vision.

There was a tall, dark figure standing behind the shower curtain, seemingly… facing away from you?

You quickly pulled back the curtain, holding a shampoo bottle as a weapon… but no one was there.

‘… maybe I’ve been watching too many horror movies. Going to that old house has me feeling anxious.”

You wrapped a towel around your body, trying to ignore the horrible feeling in your gut. It was like your body was screaming at you that someone was there and you were being watched.

‘I’ll feel better after I eat something. I’ll watch a comedy movie, that should calm me down at least a little bit.’

Once the TV was on, the towel wrapped around your body dropped to the floor, leaving you completely bare.

Before you could get dressed, you felt like there were eyes on you again. It made you feel self conscious, like you were being stared at without your knowledge.

You hurriedly ran to your closet, throwing on a pair of panties and an oversized shirt to cover yourself.

“H-hello? Is anyone there? I… can feel you staring at me…”

There was no answer, just the sound of thunder outside. You felt stupid, it was probably just the paranoia from being in that stupid abandoned house still making you think someone was watching you!

‘This is stupid…’

You huffed, settling into your bed and watching some TV. There was no one in your home, you were completely safe and that was that!

At least… that’s what you kept telling yourself. Even as you finally relaxed a bit and got ready for bed, you still felt an aching sensation in your gut telling you something was wrong, that you had brought some kind of curse of demon home with you from that abandoned house.

But even so, you were too tired to make a fuss and decided to go to bed. It was late and you needed sleep for the class you had tomorrow! You didn’t want to be late again…

You drifted off, clutching your pillow as the locket on your nightstand shone in the moonlight. It was the last thing you saw before you fell asleep.

When you awoke in the middle of the night, something felt wrong. It was nighttime so it was normal for it to be dark… but usually at least a bit of moonlight shone through your sheer curtains.

But as you glanced around your room with your groggy eyes, you could barely make out your furniture in the overbearing darkness…

You were so confused with how dark it was that you didn’t even notice the figure staring down at you until you laid back down.

“Ah-!”

Your mouth was covered, and you shook in fear as your body was paralyzed with fear. All you could do was tremble and stare up into the… handsome face of a dark haired man.

“Don’t scream. Not here to hurt you…” he murmured, holding a finger to his lips.

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up all of a sudden… it’s dangerous for a girl to be living on her own, you know? But don’t worry…”

He moved his hand from your mouth to your hair, ruffling it. “Your big brother is looking out for you.”

You watched on in shock as he placed the locket in your hand, then slowly faded away. That man… he just disappeared? What!?

It wasn’t easy going back to sleep, but you were beyond exhausted and had a class in the morning. Who was that man… and why had he called himself your big brother?

In the morning, you thought you had left the locket behind in the trash. You threw it away the second you woke up, hoping that would stop whatever was happening.

But alas, as you walked towards your college campus and reached into your pocket to take out your phone, you felt the familiar cool surface of the silver locket.

“Fuck.”

You spotted your friends standing outside of the building, and you jogged over to meet them.

“Hey guys!”

They turned, some frowning while the others put up a half assed smile. “Hey. Did you go to the haunted house last night?”

You nodded, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah… it was pretty scary. I didn’t stay for too long.”

The leader frowned. She tapped against her school binder with her sharp acrylic nails. “Really? You couldn’t even stay the night?”

You shrunk under her judging gaze, your eyes on the floor. “You didn’t say I had to stay the night…”

She scowled. “I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s obvious, dumbass. You want to be a part of our sorority, you have to do the dares just like the other initiates. We let you try, even though you’re…”

The woman looked down at your belly, then back to your face. “Tubby. Just be grateful.”

You nodded, looking away from her. “Alright… I’m sorry.”

As soon as you apologized, the woman smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You didn’t stay the night, but you still went to the house. So…”

She pulled out a card. “Here’s the official invitation to one of our parties. It’s in your honor.”

You beamed, grabbing hold of the letter. “Oh wow, really? I thought I still had more to do…”

“Shh, you’ve done enough. Just be there on time, okay? We have something special planned for you.”

You all got settled in your seats, and you left to use the bathroom. You were so excited, you’d finally get to join the best sorority on campus!

But as soon as you were out of earshot, the group of girls started giggling. “God, she’s so gullible. She really thinks we’d let someone like her into our sorority.”

The leader leaned back in her chair, folding her legs. “As soon as she steps through the door, we’ll all throw food at our little piggy. Hell, maybe she’ll get on the ground and start eating everything we’ve thrown at her.”

They all laughed, other students glancing at them in annoyance and disgust. But they all knew that trying to go against them was a suicide mission. The leader’s father was the sheriff, and she was a daddy’s girl.

The locket pulsed with anger from your backpack, emitting an uncomfortable heat. The entity in your locket had heard every single word…

And he wouldn’t let them do that to you.

As you walked home after class, you yelped when a man materialized next to you. He kept a hand on your waist, guiding you home.

“Y-you’re the man from last night…”

He nodded, keeping you close as he walked. “I am. You have some… interesting friends.”

“…”

You weren’t stupid, you knew they weren’t good friends, but your mother and grandmother had been in that sorority, and you wanted to make them proud.

“… they’re not all that bad. They’re throwing me a party this weekend…”

He didn’t answer, his grip on your waist tightening. “You shouldn’t go.”

You frowned. “I don’t really have a choice. If I don’t go, there’s no way I’m getting into the sorority.”

The ghost sighed, walking into your home with you.

“W-wait!”

You grabbed the locket out of your bag. “Why… aren’t I freaking out? You’re that weird ghost thing! Get out of my house.”

But you didn’t feel scared, there was a strange calmness in your chest that made you feel uneasy.

He approached, and you began to feel almost tired, lethargic.

“It’s because I’m keeping you calm. Last night your heart rate spiked and you were terrified of my very presence, so I’ve been doing my best to eliminate your fears and anxieties.”

He brushed back your hair, his touch cool on your flushed skin. “Easy… it’s strange, I know… but I’m not here to hurt you. I’m keeping you safe, remember?”

That night you stayed up late researching ghosts and other supernatural phenomena. Not much turned up for ghosts being able to control your emotions… just the average poltergeists throwing shit around and scaring the life out of people.

This ghost seemed more like a guardian angel than a poltergeist, but you had no idea why he was protecting you or what from.

You ended up drifting off with your laptop still on. The ghost materialized beside you, his eyes moving over your figure.

Your body was soft and fragile, unlike the younger siblings he had taken care of during his life. He’d been the oldest of seven brothers, and had never gotten the chance to be with a girl, much less watch one sleep.

When you picked up his locket, he felt an instant connection to you. Many people had stolen the silver locket before, but he simply haunted them until they returned it to the haunted house.

His resting place.

With you, though? His heart felt heavy at the very thought of anything hurting you. He wanted to protect you, to watch over you every second of the day and hold you close…

So… he must have loved you like a sibling then, right?

He had never been in love before, the only love he ever experienced was the brotherly love he had for his younger siblings.

He needed to know more about women, what they needed and how they acted. You were almost like a different species to him at this point…

So he glanced at your laptop before slowly sliding it towards him. It took him a few minutes to learn how it worked, but thankfully he had been watching you like a hawk as you typed away earlier and had a basic understanding.

He died nearly a hundred years ago, so without that he would have been clueless! The ghost was smart though, and began searching for answers regarding the female gender.

First, he looked up the definition, nodding along as if it was new information to him. Then, he thought for a moment…

What else did he want to know?

‘Well… if she gets injured, I should know what her anatomy is like so I can help her.’

During his time, many people said women and men were completely different, so he wanted to know. Searching through the internet, he looked up the anatomy of a female body…

Most of it was diagrams of internal organs and bone structure… and then he found something… intriguing.

A picture of a vagina, fingers pulling back the lips to reveal the glistening clit. His body reacted to the picture, and he found himself feeling confused.

His heart raced against his rib cage, his throat dry as his shaky hands typed out the name of the female sex organ.

‘Vagina…’

So many pictures popped up, and his eyes went wide with the variety of different shaped, colored, and sized pussies on screen. He felt his cock twitch in his pants when he stumbled upon a certain gif.

A woman’s wet cunt hovered over a fat cock, slowly lowering herself onto it, letting it stretch her out.

He glanced at you, his eyes moving down your form and to your loose lounge shorts. What did your pussy look like..?

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. ‘No… I… shouldn’t think things like that… I have to protect her.’

But even as those thoughts echoed through his head, he couldn’t help but inch closer, slowly pulling back the loose fabric of your shorts and looking at the soft outline of your pretty cunt.

He let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling back your panties to get a good look at you.

His cock twitched, aching as he stared down at your pussy for the very first time. This… was perplexing. His entire body was telling him to touch and feel you for himself, to spread open your pussy lips and see your cute, perky clit…

He was so confused, his body hot as he struggled to control his urges. What did he feel for you? Why did he want to court you, to kiss your plump lips and slip his fingers inside of you?

Images of you splayed out on the bed, your legs spread wide open to give him a nice view appeared in his wandering mind.

Your fingers moved over your clit, rubbing and circling it, before you moved down to your wet hole, slowly inserting a finger…

He shook his head, looking down to see his cock hard and pressing against his pants, wanting to be let out. He bit his lip, walking over to look at your lovely sleeping face. The ghost hesitantly pulled out his cock, stroking it shyly over your face.

Right before he came he stepped back, cumming all over your blanket. It was sticky and strangely cold, his flushed and body relaxed as he panted softly.

That felt way too good…

Before he knew what he was doing, he curiously leaned forward and licked your cheek. You tasted so lovely, he couldn’t help but move his tongue down your body, to your clothed breast and finally to your soft tummy.

He planted a kiss there, before he slowly but surely slipped off your shorts. You woke up right as he gave your pussy a curious lick, your mouth being covered before you could scream.

Was this it? Was he finally showing his true colors and ready to devour you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to feel the pain of his teeth on your body, but instead felt soft lips on your clit.

When you peeked at him, he looked up eagerly, as if waiting for you to teach and guide him through this. He wasn’t trying to hurt you… he was just curious.

You whined softly, slowly moving his head and hiding his tongue to your hole, letting out a breathy sigh as he slipped his tongue in. It felt so damn good, you were close to cumming already.

Not understanding that your orgasm was close, he pulled away right before you could cum, his lips glazed over with your juices and his eyes wide with excitement. “D-did I do good?”

You groaned in frustration, grabbing him by the hair and guiding him back, finally riding out your high on his tongue.

He seemed eager to please, and just so curious about your body… after you were done, he sat on your bed and played with your hair, watching over you as you drifted off.

When you woke up, he was gone again. The lovely was sitting on your nightstand, and when you sat up and yawned, he appeared.

He was a bit shy from your encounter last night, holding a few flowers in his hand. After you put them in a vase, you realized that they were stolen from your neighbor’s lawn… but the effort was still cute.

That day, he followed you around while you completed your chores, giving you a dopey smile and causing minor accidents for whatever poor soul dared to approach you.

He was getting more possessive by the day, disliking when any male spoke to you for longer than a few seconds. You were his, didn’t they understand that!?

When someone walked by you, a flower pot would fall into their feet or a rock would move to trip them.

It was confusing, seeing all these people end up hurt or hospitalized all the time. You wondered if you might be cursed…

You were chatting with a handsome barista when the coffee pot next to him suddenly tipped over, spilling boiling coffee all over him.

“A-are you okay!?”

While trying to help him, suddenly he slipped on a puddle of water that hadn’t been there before.

Your ghost friend stayed invisible, pouring a cup of water on the floor just moments before…

After multiple tests, you realized you were the only one that could see the ghost. You weren’t sure if he was brought on by some kind of stress from working so hard or perhaps you really were being haunted. Either way, you could never tell anyone about him. People would think you were crazy, and you didn’t want to get locked away in an asylum forever.

But strangely, your little ghost friend wasn’t that bad of a houseguest. He never made a mess, watched over you while you slept, and even when there were some break ins next door, you were the only one spared.

He really was protecting you.

“I’m… going out today.”

You looked up from your breakfast, watching as your ghost roommate materialized in front of you. Going out? He was always by your side…

“Really? Are you like… moving on to the next plain of existence or something?”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Am I that annoying, hmm? No, I’ve just got some business to attend to.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately before fading away into nothing, leaving you to wonder what a ghost would do for business.

The ghost stood over another corpse, his body free of blood due to his incorporable form. It was one of the girls who had been planning to humiliate you.

Her jaw was ripped from its socket, tangling from her disfigured face. He glanced down at her phone, picking it up and looking over the contacts.

The leader on his list… and he was saving her for last.

The news of the sorority murders had the entire campus paranoid. Police suspected a serial killer was on the loose and targeting young girls in the sorority, so you found yourself at the station, being questioned during a quiet October day.

“And that was the last time you saw her?” asked the officer, holding up a picture of the latest victim.

You gave him a nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Yes… I hope my information can be useful, have you gotten any leads yet?”

“That information is confidential, ma’am, but rest assured we’ll catch the sick son of a bitch responsible for this.”

You were driven home by one of the officers, and walked in feeling exhausted. The entire week was weighing down on you, and you only felt safe when your ghost roommate greeted you.

“Welcome home…” he murmured, reaching forward to gently caress your cheek. “You’ve been crying… did someone hurt you?”

The way he asked sent a shiver down your spine. “No… it’s just…”

You sat down, his fingers rubbing circles into your back as you spoke. “All of my friends have been killed… and I don’t know what to do…”

You couldn’t see the smirk on his face, but you felt the way his grip tightened on your hips, rocking them slightly. “It’s sad, but you have me, love. That’s all you need…”

Before you could speak, he had you laying on your back, his hands pinning down your wrists. “Those friends weren’t good people, love… I can protect you, take care of you. Provide for you…”

His fingers traced down your body, to your belly. The ache in his gut returned, and his mind was filled with images of your belly swelling up, being heavy and full with his baby… would it matter that your friends were dead when you were waddling around, pregnant and happy?

You whimpered softly, feeling his teeth graze your neck as he palmed his erection. “I realized… that I really love you. That day you picked up my locket… was basically our wedding day.”

His lips crashed into yours, teeth and tongues clashing as the kiss became rough and passionate. These last few weeks had been torture, watching you speak to other people, having to be away from you for even a second was the worst.

“M-Mmph!”

You were getting wet from all this attention, your body feeling warm as he stripped you of your clothes. But you felt guilty, here you were making out with a ghost while your friends were dead and/or in danger!

“N-not now-“

You yelped, his fingers pressing against the wet fabric of your panties. Already you were soaking wet, your face heating up in shame.

“Not now? But you’re so wet… you want this, you know you do…”

Your whines and protest went unheard as he slipped his fingers into your cunt, and no matter how much you squirmed he kept you still as he lapped softly at your clit.

“Pretty girl, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

You came on his tongue and fingers several times, your hole clenching around nothing as he sucked on your clit, his hands keeping your thighs spread open.

“You want me to fuck you, hmm? Wanna feel my cum fill you all the way up?”

You let out a pathetic whine as he rubbed his tip against your wet cunt, your eyes full of pleasured tears. The man wasn’t sure he could get you pregnant, he was a ghost after all, but god damn it he was going to try his best!

The feeling of him slowly pushing into your virgin hole was… strange. Painful, a stretch that you had never felt before, yet oddly… a sense of pleasure began to set in as he bottomed out.

He cooed softly, his hand moving over your soft belly, his eyes on your pretty cunt as it took his cock. “That’s my good girl…”

He started slow, not wanting to hurt his darling. Thrusting in and out, almost agonizing in the way his cock moved inside of your gummy walls.

Soon he couldn’t take it, the need to breed his lovely darling taking over. He pushed your legs up, beginning to fuck you in a mating press as his lips met yours.

“F-fuck, that’s it… take it, let me knock you up…”

He was desperate, almost like a wild animal, and determined to get you pregnant. He didn’t care if he was a ghost or not, he was planting his seed in your belly.

A family with you was all he could ever want, getting to see you hold his little one in your arms and waddle around with a cute pregnant belly… just the thought of being the one to knock you up had him spurting out thick, ectoplasm like cum into your womb.

“C-can’t get pregnant!” you whimpered out, wiggling nervously. “Gotta finish college…”

“Quiet, darling…”

He panted softly, looking down at you for a moment as his hips continued to fit into yours. You looked beautiful now, with your face flushed and eyes hazy from pleasure. If he could, he’d take a picture so he could always remember you in this state of utter bliss.

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry your pretty little head…”

Even after finishing inside of you again, your ghost lover wasn’t quite done with you. He stood, holding you up in a full Nelson while fucking into you. Your belly was starting to distend, so full of his cum that your pussy drooled.

Your neck was sensitive from all the hickeys he had left, and you could barely think while his cock pushed in as deep as it could go, kissing your cervix. He had you look down and watch as his cock moved in and out of your, your pretty pussy clenching around him in yet another orgasm.

“A-Ah!”

Soft whines and whimpers left your throat. It couldn’t be helped, there was a bulge in your tummy now, his cum had stuffed you full. “C-can’t… take anymore…”

He kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. “Just a little more, darling… shh, just take it…”

He rubbed your clit, cooing at you like you were a toddler throwing a tantrum. Your leg twitched with the sudden stimulation he was giving your clit, and you can again, your body sore from the multiple orgasms you’ve already had.

The love making lasted long into the night, and you found yourself passing out after cumming nearly 10 times…

But your lover’s night was far from over. After cleaning you up a little and placing a blanket over your naked form so you wouldn’t catch a cold, he set out to see to his unfinished business…

The leader was terrified, holed up in her bedroom alone as her father patrolled the house. Everyone else in her friend group was dead, leaving her the final girl on his list.

He watched her from the window, smirking as her father walked around, oblivious to the danger his snot nosed brat was in.

She got up, sighing. “That creep won’t get past dad. I bet that stupid girl has something to do with this. Even if she doesn’t, if I say the word she’ll be sent to prison.”

The ghost sneered at her words. She really planned to send his innocent lover to prison? Any hesitation he may have had was gone instantly.

He followed her to the bathroom, frowning in disgust as she disrobed. She was nowhere near as gorgeous as you were, he simply wasn’t interested in any other woman than you.

“Ahh…”

Once she settled into the bath, he took his chance and started to cause the light to flicker. This caused her to jump, nearly slipping on the slick bottom of the tub.

“H-hello?”

A soft whisper in her ear made her turn, her eyes wide with terror. “I-if there’s anyone here, you better go before my dad sees you! He’s the sheriff and if I scream-“

“He won’t be able to hear you.”

Hands wrapped around her throat, restricting her air flow. Suddenly she was able to see him, his appearance that of what he looked like when he died.

His black hair was stringy, his clothes ripped and torso torn apart to reveal his rotting organs.

“You should have been more careful. You messed with someone I love, and for that, you’ll pay with your life.”

Unable to scream, her vision went black, and her body limp. He let her sink into the tub, a few bubbles escaping before the bubbles stopped.

In a flash, he was back to his handsome self, a smile on his lips. “My darling is free now…”

You woke up to your TV being switched on, the news reporter staring into the camera with a sorrowful gaze. “Another girl from the local sorority has been killed. While police investigated the premises, they found multiple books full of images of other girls forced into humiliation ritual, along with evidence of her father, the sheriff, helping her cover her crimes up. He is on paid le-“

You shut off the TV, feeling both relieved you hadn’t attended that party, and sad that she died. She wasn’t a good person, you knew that, but you were, and it hurt your heart to see someone die so young.

“Hello, my darling…”

You felt a cold hand brush against your belly. There was still a bulge there from all the cum that had been stuffed into you the night before.

“Sleep well, my darling?”

The ghost kissed your temple, nuzzling against you. “I guess… I’m still pretty tired though.”

He moved to gently massage your sore spots, eyes fixed on your tummy. “Sorry, I think I may have gotten… carried away.”

His grip on you tightened, and the air felt a little colder. “You understand that you’re mine, correct? That moment you picked up that locket, we were tied together for eternity. You can’t get rid of me, I’ll always return to you…”

His fingers dug into your flesh. “And if you want your future to be a happy one, you’ll learn to accept things. I don’t want to hurt my precious one, after all… not like those other girls.”

It didn’t look like you had much of a choice in the matter. You could either accept that this was your life now, or end up like the sorority girls. Little did you know he was bluffing a bit. He would never actually harm you, but he wasn’t against scaring you into thinking he would.

As the years passed by, you got used to your life with him. He was much too possessive for you to go out and see people other than your family, meaning you had to give up college or see people get hurt on your behalf.

But lately he’s calmed down a little… since he’s a father now.

He smiled as you walked down the street, holding your 3 year old’s hand. Your little one was a curious thing, loving to go to the park and take walks in the woods near your home.

As you walked down the path, an elderly couple stopped you to coo at your son. You glanced at your now husband to gauge his expression, and he seemed to be okay with it.

“Oh, how cute!”

“Thank you,” you replied with a smile. “He looks just like his father.”

As you walked home, your little one disappeared from the sight of other mortals, hovering in the air with your husband. He was half ghost after all, it made sense he could do things other kids couldn’t.

Your lover smiled softly, his hand moving over your belly as he watched your son chase a butterfly.

“… about time for our second little one, isn’t it?”

Looks like you were in for another passionate night.

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