#he filed for divorce and waited two months before giving her the papers

[saladsays]

Shoutout to our idiot father who is trying his very hardest to get our brothers to hate our mother

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Little Earthquakes - Chapter Six.

Well guys, since this is being quite well received (and thank you for that!) I've decided now that I'm done with another of my stories and nearing the end of Light on the Darkside, I'll begin giving you Nathan and Holly updates twice weekly :) Enjoy!

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,845

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Minors DNI!

“I was rudely awoken by the doorbell blaring twenty minutes ago, but seeing what was waiting for me on the other side was more than worth it. Thank you! They’re beautiful! xx” 

Nathan smiled, seeing the adorable picture of Holly’s smiling eyes, her face partially hidden behind the massive bouquet of flowers he’d had delivered to her door that morning, for no other reason than just because.  

“Glad you liked them, cutie. Can’t wait to see you on Friday xx” 

It had been eight weeks since they’d begun casually dating, and he was finding himself settling into it more and more as each day passed. The more he got to know her, the less he succumbed to the behaviours that had quietly been worrying one of his closest friends. The revolving door of women had seemingly been padlocked, the only woman making it upstairs to his flat being the one he’d sent the flowers to.  

He’d also begun the closure of the chapter of his life that was causing his stress in the first place, reaching out to Delyth Smith, the solicitor who had handled Holly’s divorce, filing his own papers the week before. It would take a couple of days for them to reach Lisa, so he’d been told, who would then call upon the instruction of her own solicitor before signing them.  

He didn’t really care when she got them, just as long as she didn’t hang around on the actual signing of them. As it turned out, he would find out exactly when they arrived, sitting behind the counter at the shop the following morning, sketching and listening to music while waiting for the others to arrive and his day to start. He’d know the huge swirling mass of blonde dreadlocks anywhere as she crossed the road from her car, clutching an envelope in her hand.  

“Ahh, pissing hell.” He truly wasn’t in the mood to be brought down by a visit from Lisa, but there she was, in all her fury. 

“Unreasonable behaviour, Nathan? Really, that’s what you’re filing under?” she screamed, slamming the papers down on the counter, her teeth gritted.  

Seeing here there again, it made him feel sick, angry and sad all at once. “Yeah, because that's what it was." 

“Oh, really? That’s what it was, yeah?” 

Cracking his knuckles, he took a deep breath. “Still think you’re the victim in all of this, don’t you? You got pregnant despite the fact you knew I didn’t want kids, went behind my back and tried to further manipulate me into changing my mind. But yeah, Lis. You’re the one who got fucked over, aren’t you?”  

“You went behind mine and got a vasectomy. I call that pretty unreasonable!” 

The audacity of her! “Nah, that ain’t unreasonable. That’s body autonomy, and not being willing to have my fucking wife try and take mine from me again.” 

She folded her arms, laughing cruelly. “Well, you wasted your time in doing that anyway, didn’t you? Wasn’t like we were having much sex in the last four months of our marriage, was it, with you always being pissed out of your fucking head!” 

He could feel his temper beginning to prickle into life, stirred deep in his depths as only she was able to. He rarely lost it, being such a chilled-out guy, but when he did... 

“Look, I ain’t doing this with you. I’ve said all I’ve got to say, just sign the pissing papers, ‘kay?” he told her strongly, his nostrils flaring.  

“I’m not leaving until...”  

That was as far as she got before he exploded. “Yeah, you fucking are! Get out, Lisa. Proper fucking done with this. I’ve got fuck all left to say to you, I want a divorce and that’s the end of it.” 

“Nasty piece of shit!” she spat, grasping the papers and turning to leave. 

“And you’re a deceitful bitch who I can’t wait to be free of.”  

Scoffing coldly, she turned to glare at him. “Well, you will be soon. Then you can be somebody else’s useless excuse for a man, can’t you?” 

She slammed the door so hard, the panes of glass shook, Nathan covering his face with his hands and groaning. It was the last thing he needed at eight-thirty of a Tuesday morning, to now be plunged into emotional turmoil courtesy of his soon to be ex-wife.  

His brighter mood came crashing down, heaving himself up and going back up to his flat, pouring out a measure of vodka from the ever-present bottle in the fridge and sinking it in one. Four more followed, until he began to feel light and tingly, the alcohol offering up the perfect sedation to his pain. 

A useless excuse for a man. That was just one of her choice cruel assertions for him. A waste of space nothing and a drunken loser were two more. He didn’t see the irony as he poured another shot down his throat, placing the vodka back in the fridge and taking a swig of mouthwash before heading back down to the shop.  

“Blud, what's with the face, ay?" Chris asked upon entering two minutes later, seeing Nathan sitting at his station, completely zoned out. He didn’t answer at first. It took his friend waving a hand in front of his glazed eyes to finally stir him. 

“Sorry, bruv. What?" 

Removing his sunglasses, he leaned back against the counter, frowning slightly. He’d always gently rebuffed Kelsey’s concerns over their friend, but seeing him that morning, he knew something was very, very off.  

“You alright, Nath?” he asked, his voice much gentler than his usual, broad London boom. “You look all spaced out, man.” 

“Lisa came by not long ago, threw me through a bit of a loop. Screamed her pissing head off at me because she got the divorce papers this morning,” he sniffed, moving to the back of the shop where the coffee machine was. He needed a little caffeine, realising he was bordering a bit too jazzed to go to work efficiently. Perhaps the vodka hadn’t been the best of ideas. 

A long teeth suck emanated, Chris shaking his head. “Fuck, yeah that must have wrecked your head a bit, ay? Nah, fuck her and her mess, bruv. Listen, yeah? You’re onto bigger and better things. Got a good thing going with Holly, ain’t ya? Focus on that and just grit your teeth through all this divorce bullshit. Me and Sai are here for you though, mate. You know that.” 

Sai was his wife of almost ten years, a core member of Nathan’s chosen family, someone who had been a big support to him in the midst of his marriage breaking down. Turning to him, he saw Chris open his arms, giving him a big hug and kissing his head. For someone who was usually so loud and obnoxious, Chris Lawrence had a heart the size of the city they lived in. 

“Cheers, mate.” His reply was delivered a little noncommittally, but Chris didn’t think any more of it than making a mental note to keep his spirits up throughout the day. As soon as he got a strong coffee down his neck, he began to feel a little steadier, his first client arriving half an hour later.  

The woman was having a large cluster of roses done that would begin at her hip and stretch up her side, Nathan making a start by doing the black outline that morning before she’d come back to have the colour added. To say he was in no mood to do it was an understatement, though, going through the motions of the process rather than truly enjoying it with his usual enthusiasm.  

How dare Lisa fucking roll up there that morning and give him shit. He realised it then, exactly what a narcissist she truly was, acting like the victim in a problem she had created. Biting his back teeth together hard, he tried to prevent the tension from surging to his hands, his knuckles twitching as he gripped the tattoo machine, imagining punching her in the face repeatedly. 

For Nathan, that was a far, far cry from his soft heart and kind demeanour. He was not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination, especially not towards women.  

The emotions stirred within him were a ceaseless vortex of anger and agony, wiping trails of ink away as he worked, speeding up, wanting to get it over with so he could go upstairs and sink another calming shot between clients, maybe have a wank to de-stress himself while he was there, too.  

Wiping her hip and reloading more ink, his heart suddenly dropped. He’d fucked it up. Where one of the petals should have ended, he’d carried on the outline by at least an inch, meaning it would be hideously out of proportion from the rest. Fuck. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let his private life encroach upon his work and let it tarnish his stellar reputation among the tattoo community.  

Thinking quickly, he paused, cocking his head as he pondered. Adding another leaf there would hide his mistake, moving the machine again and finishing the petal where it had been meant to end, using his mistaken line as the central vein of the leaf and beginning to add the outer edge of it. Phew. He’d successfully saved it.  

“Have a break for a few minutes,” he finally spoke ten minutes later, after being mostly on mute for the entire process so far. “You’ve sat really well.”  

The woman nodded, his compliment changing her opinion of him being aloof, since she’d tried to engage him in conversation to little avail throughout the process so far. Taking off he gloves, he dumped them in the bin and grabbed his vape off the side, heading towards the front door. 

“All good, Gilly?” Kelsey asked, looking up from where she was adding a very large traditional style skull to a man’s half sleeve. 

“Yeah, pukka.” He was out the door before she had chance to say anything more, looking over at Chris questioningly.  

“Lisa came by this morning.”  

Her brow immediately furrowed. “For the love of the virgin Mary’s tits,” she muttered, not impressed to hear that. “Tell me more in a bit.” 

“Yeah, will do, fam.” In a bit came two hours later, with Nathan gone to pick up some lunch and she and Chris sitting at her station chatting between clients. 

“Yeah, so she came in here full-on raging, so he said, brandishing the ole’ divorce papers and giving him a right fucking mouthful, ay,” he began. “Only wish I could have been here to act as a buffer, save him getting all stressed.” He’d always liked Lisa, but after the whole baby trapping debacle, his respect for her had vanished completely.  

Kelsey was a little more aggressive in her wishes, but that was no surprise. “I’d have twatted the bitch.” 

“Ay, I know you would, blud, glad that you weren’t around because of that!” His wild hand gesturing began, pointing between her and the direction Nathan had gone in. “I can’t be doing with looking out for him and trying to make sure you don’t go straight psycho an’ all!” 

If Kelsey Chapman was anything, it was a warrior for those she loved. “I don’t understand it, though. Jesus Harold Christ, she’s the one who kicked him out in the end, and now she’s screaming about him filing? That doesn’t make sense. Did he say she was here trying to get back with him or something, and that was the root of her shouting?” 

Blankly, he shook his head. “Nah, didn’t mention why exactly she was screaming at him. Who knows with her, though. I think if she was, he’d likely have mentioned it though, mate.” Pausing, he pulled his phone out when it shuddered against his leg, reading a humorous, all caps lock message from Sai demanding he bring steak home for dinner, answering it as he continued. “Seemed a bit off too, like, I dunno, bit lit? Ain’t like Nath to be drinking on the job, though.” 

It tracked with her noticing him smelling of alcohol a couple of months ago, back when he’d first been behaving a little erratically. “We need to keep an eye on it. He’s been alright these past few weeks, the more he’s around Holly, so I’ve noticed. At least he’s stopped offering his dick around to other girls, so that’s something.”  

Unfortunately, though, that didn’t last. Three days later, when Issy, the pretty girl with the blue hair returned to have him work on more of her sleeve, once again, he took her to bed afterwards before his next client was due. Unlike the last time, though, she didn’t leave the flat once they’d finished.  

Kelsey knew he was meant to be seeing Holly that evening, so truly had no idea why he’d obviously blown her off in favour of another woman, Nathan heading straight back upstairs already drinking from a fresh bottle of vodka in his hand.  

“Get your fucking arse back in my bed,” she heard him shout from the top of the stairs on her way out the back door. “You’re getting proper ruined!” The sound of him giving her a few smacks on the bum followed before the door slammed shut, Kelsey sighing before closing the door behind her. It only got worse, too. 

The following day, she arrived to find him nowhere in sight, but could hear his bed banging against the wall upon entering the shop, moving through to the front desk and picking up a note.  

“Cancelled my appointments. Don’t bother me.” 

She could barely read the Sharpie scrawled note, but she definitely wouldn’t be adhering to his request. Once the bed banging had abated shortly before her first client was due, she went up to knock his door.  

“Told you not to bother me.”  

Bother him? He was all but lucky she didn’t take the door off its hinges and go in there with the express purpose of wringing his neck! “Nath, get out here. Now.”  

“Fuck off.” 

Oh, no. This was not him. “Gilly, I’m not moving until you show your face.”  

“You’ll be waiting a long time, then.”  

Resting a hand to her forehead, she reluctantly left him to it, descending the stairs again. What she’d do for a cigarette in that moment, but Dawnii would kill her if she even smelled the slightest whiff of tobacco on her person, the pair both quitting when the latter was pregnant with Fallon five years ago. 

What could she do in this situation? He was a grown man of thirty-four, and if he was intent on fucking things up for himself, then truly, she just had to sit back and let him. What killed her was that when he was with Holly, he was himself. He was nothing but the kind, together, lovely guy he always had been. Why, when she obviously had such a calming effect on him, when he was so happy with her around, was he throwing it away by chasing after other women?  

While she was sure Issy was probably a perfectly lovely girl, she wasn’t the one who he should have been with. She guessed that Holly would have had something to say about him blowing off his appointments in order to be with her, and, as she saw a few hours later, having no qualms about being steaming drunk at one in the afternoon. 

“Going out, s’ya later.” he slurred, he and Issy walking through the shop hand in hand, the latter giggling when he wobbled. “Oh, my shit. Ya gone n’fucked the pissin’ legs out fr’m under me, woman!”  

“No, Nath. That's called vodka, you pisshead!” she chuckled, squealing with mirth when he turned to bite her neck, almost ripping the shop door off its hinges as they exited.  

Oh, god.  

“Should we do something?” Chris asked, pausing from tattooing, concern etching his furrowed brow. 

“What can we do, mate?”  

It was true. What could they do? He was hellbent on self-destruction, it seemed. Perhaps letting it ride might lead to the kind of consequences that would offer him the sharp wakeup call he needed. Kelsey could but hope. 

With Chris gone early, she was putting the cash takings into the safe ready to take to the bank on Tuesday when she got a call from Mr self-destruction, pulling her phone out and putting it on speaker with a mild groan. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hi, is this Kelsey?” she confirmed it was, confused at why someone else was using Nathan’s phone, her heartbeat escalating sharply. “Hiya, my name’s Andy, from the Pitcher and Piano on Southwark Road. I’m calling about your friend, tall, skinny lad with all the tattoo's? Your number was first in his call list. Listen, you need to come and get him. He’s passed out, got himself in a right state and the bouncers are only giving me a short grace period before they sling him to the curb.”  

For the love of Christ. “Alright, I’ll be there in ten. Where’s the girl he was with, though?” 

“Pretty bird with blue hair?” 

“That’s her.” 

“She left about two hours ago. Had a barny with him and told him to fuck off.” 

Well, that was Issy out of the equation, then. “Okay, I’m on my way.” Honestly, she didn’t need this, wanting to do nothing more than go home, put her babies to bed (they were allowed to stay up a little later of a Saturday) have a bath and then eat dinner with her wife, but now that included looking after Nathan, too.  

When she arrived at the pub, she found he’d been ejected, seeing the likely cause there at his feet as he sat with his head in his hands, the contents of his stomach trickling down the street.  

“Nath, come on.” Grabbing his arm, she tried to help him up, but he slumped. “For the love of the virgin Mary’s underskirts.” He couldn’t even stand, Kelsey thanking her stars for being a big woman, the kind who could duck and lift him over her shoulder still.  

“M’fine, pumedown.”  

“You’re poleaxed, Nathan. You’re coming home with me.” Well, she’d be heading back to the shop first to get him a change of clothes, since he’d thrown up all over the ones he was wearing. There was no way she could leave him alone in that state, getting him into the car and praying he’d emptied his stomach, so she didn’t have to worry about him negatively decorating the upholstery.  

Parking up at the rear of the shop, she locked him in to prevent his escape, hurrying all the same while quickly phoning Dawnii and telling her of the situation, advising to put the kids to bed a little early. They didn’t need to witness their uncle Nath in that kind of state. Upon entering his flat, a state is exactly what she found. The place reeked, dirty and unkempt, clothes scattered everywhere, the bed unmade, empty bottles littering the floor.  

Moving to his drawers, she at least found some clean t shirts and boxers inside, grabbing a pair of jeans from the wardrobe, a pair of his trainers and some socks, stuffing them all into a Tesco bag she found in the filthy kitchen, dirty plates and gone off takeaway food all over the place. Standing there in the mess, she choked on a little sob, seeing the evidence of his anguish all around.  

“Gotta get you fixed up, Gilly.” she sniffed, drying her eyes and quickly returning to her car. Luckily, he was passed out, his head rested against the passenger window.  

It took little over forty minutes to get home, Kelsey living just outside of the city in Potters Bar, where she and Dawnii had bought a house for considerably less than they would have paid, residing in the capital. It was a nicer area to raise the little ones in too, they’d thought. Pulling into the drive of seventy-nine, Swan Grove, she gave Nathan a nudge, managing to rouse him. 

“Can you walk, or do I have to carry you?” 

He sniffed, stretching. “Where am I?” 

At least he sounded a little soberer now. “My house. Wasn’t about to leave you on your own in this state.”  

“What state? M’alright, pissin’ ‘ell.” No, he definitely wasn’t. Or sober, sadly, going by the recommenced slurring. “Where’s Issy?”  

“Don’t know, don’t care,” she spoke a little tersely, getting out of the car and moving around to the passenger side. “Come on.”  

“Nah, I need to go find her, m’telling ya.” Moving to unclip his seatbelt, he began pushing at her arm, his face darkening. “Get off!”  

“Oh, no, no, no!” she warned, hauling him from the car to his feet. “Stop it. I’m serious.” 

He stood, swaying unsteadily, eyes touring his surroundings. “Take me back t’London. Gotta go find her.” Pushing against her chest, he muttered swears when she didn’t budge. “Fucking ge’outta m’way, bruv!” 

She didn’t, and in the next moment, he found himself promptly slapped hard around the face, the sound echoing. “This ends tonight, Nathan. The fucking state of you! Blowing off your clients to spend the day shagging some girl and then going out and getting so loaded I had to come and fetch you? You’ve got issues, and I swear, they end right here. Jesus Harold Christ, I’m not standing back and watching this happen, now get in the fucking house!” 

Her ire reached him on some level, the little part of the Nathan she knew and loved hearing her, dropping his head and beginning to scratch the back of his neck as he staggered towards the front door with her assistance. She managed to get him upstairs and into the shower, the task not without its difficulties with his general reluctance. It was nothing for a mother very used to having to get a wriggly two-year-old into the bathtub, though, her son Flynn very adverse to being bathed.  

Once he was dried and dressed, she hoped he’d be a little more together, but he still needed to be half carried back down the stairs, depositing him on the sofa and covering him with a throw, Dawnii offering the washing up bowl from the kitchen sink, just in case he had any more to throw up.  

They ate dinner, leaving a plate for him in the fridge, even though it very much seemed he was passed out for the night. Come the morning, though, she’d be getting as much coffee into him as possible, and making him open up and reveal why he was acting so erratically.  

Sadly for Kelsey, after rising at 7am, she found Nathan gone from the house, Dawnii’s bottle of rum along with him, too. She could only hope he found his way back to London unscathed, but in that moment, she was so pissed off with him it wouldn’t have upset her much if he didn’t. 

[crabs-nonsense]

Something I love is my mom's romantic relationship. Like her partner and the ways they interact are both so wholesome and amazing. So you guys are gonna unlock some lore here.

Over two years ago my dad cheated on my mom and she said their relationship was over, because that was a rule she's always had for herself, once a cheater always a cheater. After that she started dating her current partner in a long distance relationship. They are an enby who lives in Norway and the two of them met on tiktok because they both cosplay the marauders era from Harry Potter.

In the two years they've been together my mother has gone and spent several months visiting them and meeting their family twice, once for summer and once for winter. Their family loves her and regularly invites her to things even though she can't attend. They video chat pretty much daily and text constantly. They've seen eachother at their highs and lows and been there through it all. An extremely funny fact is that my mom started learning Norwegian from a 6yr old with a very specific dialect and a speech impediment, because her partners son mostly speaks Norwegian with a bit of English.

Anyways the reason I was thinking about this is that yesterday I was in a voice chat with my bsd cosplay friends and my mom was across from me talking about the paperwork for getting citizenship through marriage with her partner. And I'd said she doesn't have to be engaged for a long time before getting married, which very much confused my friends and I had to explain. So it's been on my mind lol.

I love that they've talked about the steps needed for all of us the get citizenship, and how to get my sister and I onto disability there. And they even told my mom they might get a bigger house just so we can all still live together. They also send us Norwegian candy from time to time (sending things to the US is super expensive so it's not very often). They also send all her kids presents both randomly and for birthdays and Christmas. I have a crocheted pokemon plushie from them that I absolutely adore.

But yeah despite my mom being completely done with my dad he spent a year and a half trying to "win her back" but in like a really semi toxic roundabout way that all of us could see would never work except for him. And he only this year finally moved out of the house. Divorce papers FINALLY got filed and we all know he's going to drag it out and fight for full custody just to spite her. So because of that my mom and her partner are only dating, but mom has said the moment the divorce goes through she wants to take a small trip to Norway so we can all meet them in person and she wants to propose in person. Her partners son (again he's six) insists he's planning their wedding (they've never said anything about getting married to him), and he collects rocks and shells every time they go to the beach to use as center pieces for the tables.

Another thing is that with the safety of trans people quickly fading here they've also talked about how if things get bad enough that we are in danger here, we can all go to Norway. Like they told my mom if she suddenly said hey we're getting on a plane and will be there at x time, they will get their family together to get large enough transportation and housing for us (I have 4 siblings so there's 6 of us in all).

And and and!!! They are also disabled and have been since they were a kid. They don't have the same issues my sister and I do but they do have joint problems and chronic pain just like us so its been amazing to be getting first hand advice for a lot of things. They are so amazing i can't wait to meet them in person and give them a hug honestly.

[randomshyperson]

Cherry Wine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes a glass of wine is all it takes to see someone who has always been in front of you. Or the one where Wanda is getting divorced, and you two are best friends.

Warnings: (+18), brief drunk making out, friends to lovers, lots of teasing and sexual tension, reader is a simp, semi public, a bit of roleplay, fingering (r giving), oral (r giving). | Words: 7.058k

A/N-> This idea has been on my drive for months, but I only finished it last week. Here it is, I think I've got all the warnings, but let me know if I'm missing anything. Good reading!

General Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

It was official. 

Exactly 3 hours and 8 minutes ago - and Wanda knew that because she was timing how long she could hold her breath under the short water of the tub - she became officially a divorced woman. 

She had just returned the cell phone with the lawyer's confirmation that all papers delivered had been read and the process was finished as she placed it beside the tub and was about to return to her childish challenge when the bathroom door opened.

You frowned at your best friend's posture, but there was a little smile on your lips. 

"You have strange habits, Wanda. I worry sometimes." You commented humorously, getting a weak chuckle from the other woman. You had two towels in your hands - one for body and one for hair - which you left on the sink. "Natasha said, for the twentieth time, that she's very sorry to miss the girls' day, but she's going to try to bribe Fury with bagels to see if she could switch her overnight duty to tomorrow."

Wanda nodded in understanding but said nothing about it. If she was one hundred percent sincere, although she also loved Natasha, you were more than enough. You had planned a surprise day with just the girls on the same day the divorce papers were filed because you figured Wanda would need company. She expected to arrive home from the court to do household chores that were sure to make her cry, but she arrived at the clean and organized place, a hot bath waiting for her and your companionship. 

"Are you ready to get out or should I leave the music on? You look like you're pretending to be a music video, and I wouldn't want to disrupt the creative process of the best writer in this country." You joke, and this time Wanda laughs with flushed cheeks.

"Stop it." She grumbles, but you just shake your head with a chuckle. "What did you say we were going to do anyway?"

"Cooking." You retort with one hand propped on the sink. "I know it's the only thing that helps you relax as much as writing, but since you hate writing when you're upset, Sokovian food will have to do." You reply and Wanda sighs heavily.

"Okay." She says. "Can you give me five minutes?"

You smile. "Honey, I'll give you all the time you need. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready." You said before leaving.

Wanda hugged her legs trying to get up the courage to leave the bathroom. Today would be a good day, she was sure. All the days around you were good, or at least, they were better than the days without you. These were not so common. Ever since the two of you met, so long ago in high school, you haven't been apart. Same high school, same college, same group of friends when you started your careers. While Wanda became a writer, you followed the same career as your mother and sisters in the medical field.

Today had to be a good day because Wanda had been needing these lately.

And while she was getting dressed, you walked casually down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Pietro called next and you put him on speakerphone as you moved to start getting the pans out.

"What do you need, my least favorite Maximoff?" You answered the call with a tease and heard laughter on the other end of the line.

"Please, everyone knows you are secretly in love with me." He returned, making you chuckle and shake your head. "Only that would explain why you lived at my house all the time in high school."

"Of course. And here I thought it was because your sister is my best friend, how silly of me." 

Pietro laughed, and before you could continue you heard two childish voices joining the call, and you left the pans on the countertop to look at the twins trying to fit into the camera view.

"And how are the cutest boys in the whole world doing?" You asked, making them smile.

"Aunt Y/N, Tommy and I got a new video game!" Billy said excitedly. "Uncle Piete gave it to us as a present!"

"Yes, because they were very well-behaved on the trip, and they promised they'll remain just as quiet while I'm driving home." Pietro advised, rubbing his forehead lightly and making you smile.

The twins were spending the weekend with their uncle on the other side of the state, and you had asked Pietro for a few extra hours because of girls' day - which he promptly agreed to, because besides adoring his nephews, he figured Wanda needed some break.

"What time are you getting on the road?" You asked.

"After lunch. We should get there around six, and with any luck, those little boys will fall asleep halfway, right, kids?" Peter tried, but seeing the way Billy and Tommy were jumping around excitedly, that seemed far from the truth. You laughed at Pietro's tired expression. "Hey, how's Wanda?"

Before you could answer, Wanda had come downstairs - her hair slightly damp and her posture relaxed as she put on a sweatshirt set - she looked good. Quiet pretty.

"Y/N?" You blinked in confusion, realizing that you were staring and hadn't said anything for a long moment. Clearing your throat, you picked up your cell phone and turned to Wanda - who smiled at the sight of her brother and children - and approached.

"Mom, look at our new video game!" The twins started talking quickly, and you smiled as you watched Wanda's face light up as she spoke to them. You left your cell phone with her and went to organize things in the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Wanda ended the call with 'Love you, see you all later' and a nod, and then approached you, sliding the cell phone into the back pocket of your pants.

"Don't put it away, we're going to need it." You warn, putting down the plates you took from the top. "I need to look up the recipes online, I have no idea how to cook anything, Wands."

"That's what I'm here for." She retorts with a smile, taking the plates from your hands. "Everyone knows that following recipes is like cheating."

"That doesn't make any sense." You try but she just shrugs her shoulders and moves to leave the dishes on the countertop, and you laugh, seeing that this argument you will not win.

Except that, many minutes between jokes, touches, and playful nudges - from grabbing an ingredient before Wanda can, gently pushing your shoulders against hers when she was measuring something, or tickling her when she goes to reach for something on the highest shelf - whatever Wanda was cooking sure wasn't going as planned.

"There's something missing." She commented thoughtfully as she tasted the seasoning, and you crossed your arms as you leaned your back on the countertop beside her.

"Sorry, miss we don't need a recipe, did you say something?" You teased playfully, and she rolled her eyes with amusement.

"Okay, Y/N, renowned chef from nowhere with impeccable skills in making instant noodles and ice, can you please check the ingredients for me?"

"Hum, I didn't sense much sincerity in your request, but I will overlook it because you are cute." You joke, and since you are distracted by picking your cell phone out of your pocket, you don't notice that despite her shy chuckle, Wanda's cheeks turn pink.

With the recipe, it was definitely easier to finish lunch. And the food was delicious. You and Wanda took the dishes into the living room - because it was a quiet day, and since the kids are not here, you could do it just today - and turned on the TV. 

Wanda wasn't even surprised that you had sorted out her favorite sitcoms, but she was certainly pleased. You were good to her. Always so good to her. And now, watching you out of the corner of her eye as you giggle at one of the jokes on the television, Wanda has to remind herself that she shouldn't feel her heart racing this way. It's not how friends feel.

"When do you have to go?" That is the question she lets slip almost four hours after you both have finished lunch. The dishes were carried into the kitchen by you at some point, and this must have been the only time you guys got up from your empty cushions besides bathroom trips. Wanda thinks that her anxious brain came up with this because she hasn't heard a word of the episode since she stretched out her legs on the sofa and your hands began to massage her feet.

You raise an eyebrow at her, surprised at the sudden question.

"Are you kicking me out, Maximoff?" It's ironic and humorous, and Wanda giggles, letting her head fall back on the couch as she looks at you.

"Of course, I'm so tired of relaxing and having fun all day." She retorts in the same tone making you smile. However you stop your caresses to check your watch, and Wanda regrets asking.

"I have the night shift, so I should leave before Pietro gets back with the boys." You mutter before returning your gaze to her. "But we have enough time to bake some cookies for them."

The suggestion makes Wanda smile. "Can we bake a pie too?"

You laugh, pushing her feet gently to get up. "Anything you want, sweetheart."

Wanda must have the flu. You always use affectionate nicknames, but now, it makes her heart skip a beat. She follows you into the kitchen lazily - even a little hesitant - somewhat confused about her own reactions. You don't notice anything.

Baking is different for you two - you are better at it than she is. Wanda helps with the dough though, and you have fun when you need to wash your hands in the sink, several playful pushings until you're done. 

"Now we wait." You say as soon as the last tray of cookies is in the oven. Wanda decides to sit on the floor, her back resting on the countertop behind her, and you laugh at the scene, but sit down beside her, both of you staring at the cookies baking. There is a moment of silence, just your quiet breaths. Wanda hugs her legs and you sigh. "How has it been today, sweetheart?"

Wanda knows you are asking about the divorce, precisely about the absence of Vis around the house now. But to be fair, it's not as if he used to be around anymore anyway. And that is exactly what she tells you. Despite offering you a hum of understanding, you complete with a quiet "I'm sorry."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why? You never liked him."

You let out a short chuckle, looking at her with almost surprise. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I mean. And that you're sad. It doesn't matter how I felt about him."

Wanda nods, resting her face on her arm. "I'm not sad, Y/N." She murmurs. "I'm somewhere between relieved and angry. Probably both."

"Yeah, I'm sorry." You repeat and Wanda lets out an almost impatient sigh, turning her body toward you.

"You know what, Vision is no longer my husband. You can be honest, okay?" She practically accuses, and seeing your confused and surprised expression, she completes, "About him I mean. You two never got along. You don't have to hide what you really think about him anymore. You can be honest, I won't mind."

"Wanda, I really don't think that talking shit about your ex-husband is the appropriate thing-"

"Stop it." She cuts off gesturing a bit. "Vision was all about the appropriate thing, remember? So please, Y/N. Let's just, for today at least, be honest. I need this."

You sigh, looking at her with some hesitation. "Promise you won't be angry?"

"I promise."

"Even if I'm mean, or rude?"

Wanda laughs. "Yes."

You giggle too, but then let out an almost excited exclamation. "Okay, I've kept these things since college when you first met him, but let's do it." You stated in a fake serious tone that made Wanda chuckle slightly. Theatrically you made a thoughtful face and cleared your throat before beginning. "Okay, first of all, Vision was the most idiotic guy you could have chosen to marry, and these are the reasons: He is crude, hugely arrogant, and manipulative. I always hated the way he talked to you. He treated you as if he were somehow smarter or more talented, and he was never either." You began to state and Wanda's eyes widened slightly. "And also, he couldn't read the room. I lost count of how many times he made you uncomfortable with some inappropriate comment. And the worst part is that he didn't have the slightest clue that you were bothered because even though he was with you, he seemed to know nothing about you!"

Wanda swallowed dryly, watching you vent. The worst part was that you were right about everything, and she remained silent as you opened up:

"And that was just the beginning, you know? You two started going out, and he didn't even know the basics about you! And then you got engaged and he bought you a really expensive ring and all I could think was 'what a stupid guy'. You don't even like blue, he could have spent less on a red stone and Wanda would have loved it even more." You comment and Wanda lets out a chuckle that you share. "And then you got married, and the party was beautiful I admit, but he drank too much and almost ruined what was supposed to be the best day of your life."

"Thanks for moving the cake, by the way." Wanda muttered remembering the day clearly, and you laughed, nodding.

"It didn't get any better after that, Wanda." You continued. "He was a terrible husband to you. He didn't go to any of your events, and I know that because I was at all of them. And remember the twins' anniversary and the wine accident? The jerk was more concerned about a damn bottle than an injured son. It was a good thing I already knew how to do decent bandages." You joke about the last part, but Wanda can't give you more than a short laugh. 

You keep listing - days and more days when Vision was a terrible father and husband - and you keep being right. But mostly, you were the one present in her life all the time. Attending her writer's publicity events, at family parties, gently picking the kids up from school, caring for this family as if it were your own. Wanda feels a lump forming in her throat. She wants to cry, especially if it means you are the one going to hug her.

Noticing her silence, you interrupt yourself mid-statement, looking at her with concern.

"See, Wanda, I knew I shouldn't have said anything!" You declare seeing the tears in her eyes, your face almost desperate. "I take it all back. Forget what I said, it was insensitive and foolish to say it at this moment."

Wanda gives a tearful laugh, shaking her head. "No, Y/N, don't worry." She says trying to push the emotion away, "You're right. Vis was an idiot, but that must mean I am too for believing him." She declares sadly and you deny frantically, but Wanda looks down at her own lap. "Maybe all of this is not for me, you know? I'm just not a good wife."

"That's what I mean, Wanda." You begin as you raise a finger to her chin, making her look up at you. Your hand doesn't pull away, fitting comfortably on her cheek, and it takes all of Wanda's mental control not to lean in or melt at the touch. "He made you feel like you weren't enough when he should have made you feel like you were everything." She knows she is blushing, and she knows that because your hand is on her face you are feeling the warmth of her cheeks. So she thinks it best to smile and nod, pushing her face away before she loses control of her own body.

"I have an idea." She declares because she doesn't want you to think she has rejected your touch or that she is angry, and is getting up. "Vis has carried most of his things away but left a bottle of wine from our wedding. I'm sure it was the last shot to try to make me feel guilty, but he's not going to have that victory. I want to drink that whole bottle with my favorite person, which is you."

Wanda didn't see the silly grin you had on your face because she was getting the glasses and the bottle from the cabinet under the sink. You checked on the cookies before you got up and Wanda brought the items to the countertop behind you.

"The saddest part is that your wedding wine is terrible." You commented, making her laugh.

"I know." She says as she opens it. "But it will have to do. One sip for the symbolism of the moment?" She asks, making you chuckle before nodding.

But time aging has improved the drink. You and Wanda share a surprised look as you taste the cherry, hum of satisfaction after the first sip.

"While it's not bad, I can't go to work drunk." You warn as you return the cup to the countertop and Wanda laughs, shrugging.

"More for me then." She says and turns your entire cup over in a single gulp, making you giggle and shake your head. 

You go into the living room to get your cell phone, and when you return to the kitchen Wanda is sitting on the countertop. She has given up on the glasses and decided to drink straight from the bottle.

"Natasha apologized again, and said that the attempted bribe ended up getting her an extra shift." You say as soon as you read the message from your cell phone, and Wanda lets out a hearty giggle.

"Damn, now I feel bad." She retorts. "I think I'll save some of my pie for her."

"My pie you mean." 

Wanda laughs, rolling her eyes. "We split the work!"

"Yeah, yeah, you can take five percent credit." You tease as you move closer, leaving your cell phone on the countertop next to her where you stop. 

"Five percent?" She repeats with false indignation.

"And I'm being generous."

Wanda lets out a short laugh, pushing your shoulder playfully but you are looking at her in a way that makes her legs go weak. Your cell phone vibrates the same second Wanda starts to lean in, and it breaks the moment completely.  She decides to take another long sip while you check the message.

"It's Harley. She wants to know if I can come in early because an appointment popped up." You count as you type. "Sorry, Wanda, but you just lost another hour with your favorite person."

Wanda chuckles. "You're never gonna let that one go, are you?"

"Not a chance." You retort with a mischievous smile, looking at her for only a second before you go back to typing. 

Wanda takes another long sip of her wine, and the next words are coming out before she can hold them back, "How come you never got married?"

You blink confusedly away from the phone at the sudden question, but you shrug. "I don't know. I guess I haven't met the right person yet."

Wanda is no longer smiling. She thinks she should, though. It would be the appropriate thing to do: smile relaxedly for a casual conversation with her best friend.

"Not even Harley?"

You chuckle at her phrase, putting your cell phone in your pants pocket, and she makes a surprised face. "You haven't heard? I think Natasha was waiting for the opportunity to tease me in the most efficient way about it." You begin. "We haven't been going out in almost a month now. We were doing well, I think, and I thought about asking her to be my girlfriend during a picnic. I set up a romantic date at the Municipal Botanical Garden, even took her to see a butterfly exhibit. And guess what? She fell in love with the flower girl."

Wanda stared at you in shock. "Sorry, what?" she asked, but you laughed, shrugging.

"There was a woman supervising the exhibit, a biologist. When it was over, Harley took my hand and said `Sweetheart, this has been lovely, but we can't go out anymore. I think I just found the love of my life because of you." You recount. "I particularly think it was a funny way for the universe to say it wasn't meant to be."

Wanda let out a nervous laugh, "Oh my god, I'm sorry." She said but you chuckled, shaking your head.

"Don't worry, I don't think it would have worked out anyway." You say. "Sorry for not saying anything too, I guess I ended up blocking that humiliation from my memory and forgot to tell you." You joke, making her laugh. You reached over to pick up the bottle she had left between her legs. "A sip of courage to face a twenty-four-hour shift." 

Your next sip of wine was miscalculated, and you downed a few drops, laughing at your own clumsiness. Wanda definitely must have been very drunk to be noticing the drop running down your chin, blushing as she realized the urge to taste it straight from your skin. 

And maybe because she was drunk, she thought it was an incredible idea to do exactly what she wanted. 

While you were scanning the place for a cloth to dry yourself, Wanda wrapped her legs around you before you could move away, ignoring your confused giggle as she pulled you closer by the shirt.

Your question about what she was doing turned into a gasping sigh when her lips met all the drops of wine falling between your chin and neck. You closed your eyes tightly, tensing up at the same moment, your hands gripping the counter as you try to keep your balance.

Wanda pulled away, licking her lips and her eyes so dark you couldn't see the green as you opened yours and faced her.

"There you go. Delicious." She spoke in a hoarse voice, and her gaze went down to your lips at the same moment. 

"W-what are you doing?" You stammered affected, your face burning and your heart racing. Wanda threw the consequences out the window, her brain screaming at her to kill this curiosity that had existed since high school, and she did. She closed her eyes and broke the distance, meeting your lips in a firm and deep kiss.

You choked in surprise, pulling back. Wanda blinked, mortified, and suddenly very sober. 

The apology died in a groan as you grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her for real the next second, tongue and teeth and with all the passion you had hidden for so many years. She matched the intensity, and as your mouths pressed together, her hands went to the back of your neck and yours went down to her thighs, encouraging her to wrap herself even more around you.

In the kitchen, all that could be heard was the sound of panting breaths and moving lips, until one of your hands went boldly inside her blouse and when your palm wrapped around her breast, Wanda gasped in a whimper, arching her body toward you. Something changed in you at the sound, your kisses grew harsher and your hands began to mark her. Wanda felt like she was burning from the inside out, so many years of buried feelings surfacing all at once and all she wanted was for you to release the hot knot in her belly.

Just as she felt your fingers work to pull up her blouse completely, the oven alarm beeped and awakened you. 

Wanda grunted at the lack of your lips, but you were stumbling backward in shock, and she had to hold onto the counter to keep from falling when you did, one hand on your chest and one in your hair, your breathing as out of rhythm as hers.

"Fuck, what we were..." You started practically panicking, only now noticing the wine bottle that fell on the counter with the movement, and exclaimed sweatily as you rushed to grab the item and a cloth, frantically preventing further mess. Wanda was busy trying to control her own breathing and ignore the waves of arousal and alcohol in her brain. 

But as soon as your gazes met again, she began:

"Y/N, don't panic." 

But you grunted, shaking your head. "Wanda, we're just-"

Your speech was cut off by the sound of a car parked in front of the house.

Shit.

"Oh, no, no, Shit." You muttered to yourself, and Wanda almost took it personally, but she could barely think about anything really, every cell in her body begging you to kiss her again when you moved closer again. But you were only trying to help with her messy appearance, letting out a gasping sigh as you raised your hands to smooth her hair and caught a glimpse of her swollen lips from the kiss. "God, so pretty..."

Wanda felt her face warm but you swallowed dryly, shaking your head and pulling away with a grunt. She would have complained but you adjusted your clothes and turned off the oven, and before she could comment, the front door was opening and lesser beings rushed into the room.

She heard your quick excuses about being late for work, and the promise of cookies in the oven was enough for neither Pietro nor the boys to question your hasty departure.

Wanda would have run after you, but she thinks her legs were still a bit wobbly.

–//–

You haven't spoken to Wanda in four days.

That's a record that impresses anyone who is part of your life - even Dr. Cho, who until last week though you were married to Wanda so many times she saw you leave the hospital for some family engagement with them. It was embarrassing to clarify that you were just a friend of the family.

Friend. 

You had a few. None like Wanda. And maybe that's why you're avoiding her.

The kiss hasn't left your mind since it happened. You had been running on automatic for days, and basically hiding at work to avoid the Maximoffs.

On the fifth day, Natasha had enough.

"This place is not a hotel, Y/N." She reminded as soon as she found you in the empty locker rooms again. You grimaced as you arranged the sheets on the bunk bed.

"But this has my name on it." You justified, gesturing with your head to the labels on the lockers. 

Natasha crossed her arms.

"The lodging is for on-call doctors. You were on call days ago. You have your own apartment, stop running away from your girlfriend."

You blush deeply and look away from the bedding in an attempt to hide it. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mutter, but Nat gives a dry laugh.

"Please, you've been working here for ten years, and for ten years Wanda has been making lunch boxes for you. Suddenly, she gets divorced and you start eating snacks from the machine and hiding in the dormitories. What, Vision finally found out that you were sleeping with his wife?"

“Nat!” You exclaimed embarrassed, but the redhead laughed and shook her head. "Don't say that! You know very well that Wanda and I, we never..."

"My god Y/N, you're still sleeping here?" Someone interrupted, coming to Nat's side. You sighed loudly at Harley, clearly arriving for her shift still in normal clothes and the lab coat inside her bag. "Did something happen to your house?"

Natasha smiles mischievously, leaning on the door. "That's what I'm trying to find out, and I'll bet you fifty bucks it has something to do with the hot Milf."

Harley raises an impressed eyebrow, her hands busy opening her own locker.

"What about Miss Maximoff?" She asks but you're sighing loudly and putting the covers away before walking away.

"Go mind your own business, Romanoff. And a good day to you two." You say as you leave in irritation.

But your escape from your colleagues is short-lived. Before lunch, when you've seen a few lovely patients that have improved your mood a bit, Natasha appears in your office.

"Hey, can I ask you a favor?" She asks leaning on the door, while you are checking the upcoming charts.

"Not if it's related to me staying in the dorm." You grumble grudgingly, managing a small laugh.

"I have found spiritual peace for that matter." She says mysteriously, and before you can clarify, she continues, "I'm going to take a little while at lunch, Maria and I are going to go over some adoption stuff. Do you think you can take over some General Practice patients? I can swap Pediatrics with you later."

You looked at your calendar before confirming, and Natasha smiled in appreciation, muttering that you were the best before you left.

In the afternoon, you were almost considering telling your long-time friend about what happened, but soon realized it was all her plan when you read Maximoff's name on the next appointment form.

In shock for a good few seconds, you almost considered faking a faint or escaping out the window, but both actions seemed very childish to you. 

It was just Wanda. Your best friend of a lifetime. You could have a conversation with her.

With trembling fingers, you pressed enter on the computer for the next password call and stood up to spend the next few minutes rehearsing exactly what you were going to say.

All the words went awry when Wanda's upset face came into your field of vision.

"H-hey." You greeted hesitantly, resisting the natural urge to break the distance and approach her, wrap her face between your hands and ask if everything was okay as you had done a thousand times. And Wanda missed that.

"Hi, doc." She greeted with a slight tease as she closed the door, you swallowed dryly wiping your soft palms on your pants.

"W-what are you, um, doing here?"

"Well, I figured if I made an appointment with the boys, you would have moved on to someone else. Given the way you're avoiding me." She replies without any ceremony, and you lower your head in shame, shifting the weight of your feet. "So I had to ask Nat for help."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Great plan." You mumbled before looking back at Wanda - who had taken off her coat. You cleared your throat. "Well, why don't you start by telling me what's wrong, Miss Maximoff?" You ask and Wanda tilts her head slightly, seeming to decide whether she was going to go through with this little theater or leave the room. Fortunately, she chooses the former.

With a soft sigh, she leaves her coat on the support besides the door and unhurriedly takes off one at a time the sandals she was wearing.

"I've had such a tough few weeks, Doctor." She begins, your eyes catching every movement of her hands taking off her sandals and causing your breath to hitch to the dark tingle that takes over her green irises. "With my divorce being finalized, I've been so stressed."

"That...I'm sorry to hear." You manage to say in a hoarse, affected voice, watching Wanda gently pushing her sandals to a corner of the room and starting to work the buttons on her red blouse in a tortured slow manner. Your heart leaps as you begin to see more skin. "W-what are you doing..."

"Oh, doc, I should be more comfortable, shouldn't I?" She asks with a false innocence that makes you swallow dryly, half her buttons open now. "So you can check me properly."

You choke softly, your face burning but your gaze mesmerized on the woman in front of you, who sighs softly as she removes her blouse, letting it fall down her arms to the floor.

Of course, in so many years of friendship, you had seen Wanda in lingerie a few times. But never like this. Not with her deliberately offering the image to you.

Your brain short-circuits, and she bites her lip, a hidden little smile as she watches your reaction.

"All this stress has left me so sore in so many places, doc..." Wanda begins, approaching in slow steps that make you hold your breath, the image of her cleavage covered only by a black bra making it impossible to concentrate on anything if not this. "Can you help me with that?"

You nod frantically, licking your lips to try not to look like a complete mess.

"W-where does it hurt, Miss Maximoff?" Your husky question makes Wanda smile even wider. She moves her hands to yours and pulls the first one until your palm is over her covered breast, drawing sighs from both of you.

"They are so sore since you touched me in the kitchen." Wanda confesses in an equally affected sigh, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, gasping a little. "Kept missing the feel of your hands around me, playing with them. It makes me tingle, unable to sleep. And thinking about that makes another spot hurt."

You blinked a little confused because of the liquid lust in your brain, but Wanda wasted no time in guiding your other hand to her belly and pushing down until it slid into her pants, past her panties.

You sighed deeply as you felt her wet pussy, instinctively squeezing her breast and making Wanda close her eyes tightly, her hands going to your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Wanda." You grunt but Wanda is throwing her hips against your hand gently, urging you to start moving inside her.

"Please doc, only you can help me." She declares, and you shudder at the meaning behind her words, not resisting the temptation to slide your fingers through her folds, collecting and spreading the moisture that only seems to grow and makes Wanda whimper. "In-in-side, please... I need..."

You interrupt her with a kiss, overpowering with ease because Wanda is twitching at the feel of your fingers. She tries to match your hungry, intense kiss, but as soon as you push two fingers inside her cunt, she moans loudly, hands gripping your shoulders tightly to keep herself from sliding to the floor.

You hum in approval, your body burning with desire at the sensation of the soaked and tight walls of Wanda's pussy squeezing your digits. When she can no longer kiss you back because you have begun to thrust harder inside her and she can only rest her forehead against your shoulder, clinging to your body to keep from falling to the floor as your free fingers stimulate her nipple, you whisper in her ear, "You have such a greedy pussy, Miss Maximoff. Taking my fingers so well, so wet and tight for me. You know If you wanted this, you could have told me sooner."

Despite the closeness of her orgasm - Wanda could feel her legs wobble, the knot in her belly tightening, and waves of hot heat spreading throughout her body - she managed to retort:

"Would you have...helped me...if I had asked you before?" She said between breathless moans, and you almost flinched at the hidden meaning behind the question. But instead, you switched the rhythm until Wanda began to whimper, her hips moving against your hand in search of relief. 

Leaving Wanda's breast, you moved your hand to her face so that she would look up at you. Dark, dreamy eyes with very red cheeks. Wanda was absurdly beautiful, a mess on your fingers.

You make her cum before you say what you want. And she has to close her eyes for it, and you swallow the deep groan she lets out as she gets deliciously tight in your fingers, and soaks your hand with her juices.

As she recovers, you wrap an arm around her and draw patterns on her swollen clit.

"Look at me, Wanda." You call out in a whisper and wait until she does. "I would. Any time."

She swallows dryly, lowering her gaze to your mouth. "Even when..."

"Any time." You interrupt as you assure, sliding your fingers inside again and making her choke on her own breath. "I've loved you since high school, Wanda. If you had told me how you felt, I would have said the same. I would have kissed you in your dorm room, or at the church door. It could have been me screaming when the priest asked if anyone had anything against that union."

"Dorogoya..." Wanda starts out affectionate but turns into something like a whimper when you curl your fingers inside her. "Y-yes, just like that... chert vozʹmi, eto tak khorosho." she gasps in her native tongue, and you smile with a wave of pride in your chest as you watch her roll her eyes to the back of her head.

"Do you realize how many times I wanted to fuck you in that kitchen, Maximoff?" You continue, appreciating the way Wanda throbs in your fingers. "Or on your couch. Or my bed, when you and that asshole were fighting and you were going to cry on my shoulder?" You question, fingers stroking harder now. Wanda whimpers, shaking her head. "He never knew how to love you right, Wanda. Fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name. Good thing best friends know each other so well. I know exactly what you need, pretty girl."

Wanda was about to complain about the lack when you suddenly remove your hand from her pants, but you are kissing her hard and spinning her around until she is placed on the table. Your hands work to push her garment out of the way, and Wanda grunts when you break the kiss with a tug on her lips, only to feel her whole face burn when you start to get down on your knees.

Of course, she knows what you're going to do. And of course, you know that she has never received this before. You learned about it in a very awkward conversation on girls' night out, where Wanda had to confess that she was the only one in the group who didn't know what it felt like. Nat and Monica were too drunk to remember, but apparently you - from the victorious smile as you kissed her legs now - remembered very well.

Wanda tensed in anticipation, and you kissed her thighs before looking at her.

"Relax, Maximoff. You'll love it." You say trying to reassure her, but Wanda swallows dryly.

"You don't have to." She murmurs embarrassedly surprising you a little, "If you don't want to. Vision used to say it was weird and even unnecessary and I understand if you-"

"Oh, baby, you have no idea how much I want it." You sighed in solidarity. Ten damn years without decent sex. It had to be a joke. "Trust me, Wanda. I'm going to make you feel good like no one ever has."

She smiled shyly, and you kissed your way up until Wanda jumped softly with the first kiss against her clit. Your original plan was to go slowly, but as soon as you had a taste, your eyes rolled and you dove in.

Wanda cried out in pleasure and a little surprise, her hands gripping the table tightly.

“Oh, malysha… that feels-ah-really nice.”  Wanda gasped with her eyes closed tightly, her hips trying to match the rhythm of your mouth. Your tongue moved masterfully, in and out in a breathtaking rhythm as you spread her last pleasure all around. Wanda cursed in Sokovian as you sucked on her clit, arching her back and squeezing the table until her fingers turned white.

She was close, so tight in your mouth that you could feel how ruined your own panties were, but you didn't stop - grabbing her thighs to keep her open and continuing to eat her out even after she came hard in your mouth.

"Chert vozʹmi, dorogaya, eto slishkom" She babbled in ecstasy, falling with her elbows on the table, her whole body spasming deliciously. But you kept licking hungrily until her rambling words turned into cries of pleasure and she came again even more intensely.

You would stay there forever if you could, but the appointment time alarm began to sound and you grunted impatiently.

Licking her clean, Wanda blinked affectedly before she felt your hands wrap around her and help her stand properly, your lips dancing on hers and turning her into an even bigger mess as she felt the mixed taste on your tongue.

"Go on a date with me, Miss Maximoff." You say between one kiss and another, and Wanda chuckles softly.

"Is that an order, doc?"

"It's a request." You clarify even though you know she is only joking. "One that I should have made the second I laid eyes on you."

Wanda blushes, smiling shyly before kissing you again, slow and deep.

"I would have said yes." She confesses breathlessly. "Before or now. I didn't know, Y/N. If I had known-"

"It's okay." You interrupt her before she gets more anxious, kissing her mouth once or twice. "We have all the time in the world."

She smiles in agreement. "My place or in yours?"

You rub your nose against hers gently. "Is there a difference?" You retort getting a giggle in return.

You helped Wanda get dressed between kisses and stolen touches, and even after she left, your heart was still pounding inside your chest.

Wanda loved you back. And even though you had been friends for years, part of you felt that your story with her was just beginning. It was somehow terrifying. The possibility of screwing things up, of course. Good thing you would have your best friend by your side.

[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader 

Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.

A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.

“Where do we start?”

The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.

“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”

“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”

You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”

“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”

“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”

And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.

“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”

You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.

“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”

“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.

“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.

Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”

And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”

“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”

“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”

“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”

Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”

“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”

“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.

“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”

“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”

You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”

“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”

“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.

“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'

Oh, how wonderful.

You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.

He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.

"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.

“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”

And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”

And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.

“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.

And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.

“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”

“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.

“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”

At the sound of the what—

And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”

Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.

And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”

You glance from him to his hand.

Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.

“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”

“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”

“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I’m just—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”

“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”

“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”

You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.

The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.

After all, money was money in their eyes.

You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”

“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”

“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.

And that was what scared you the most.

The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”

“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”

“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.

He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”

You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.

So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”

And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.

You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”

His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.

You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.

And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.

Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—

And then the lock clicks open.

He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.

And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.

You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).

But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.

Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”

“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.

“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”

“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”

“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”

“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,

He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”

“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”

“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.

And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”

His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”

And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.

Shit.

Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”

And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”

An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.

And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."

He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.

“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.

The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”

You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.

Probably fucking not.

~~~

Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.

Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.

The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.

By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.

Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.

“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.

“Is something going on?”

And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.

“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”

He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”

“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”

Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.

“If you want to sleep—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”

And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.

His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.

It felt so nice.

Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —

Because it was you.

And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.

[aubreyprc]

when I cheated it did

46 - are they really just a friend

summary - during hotch and haley’s separation, he has a thing with Emily. Haley pulls him up about it when he comes to her about the divorce papers and one confession later, he lands right back at emilys door once again.

word count - 2.6k - the way this was just supposed to be the hotch / haley scene and now it’s ?? this is just an example of how unwell i am in my head <33

She always told herself that no matter what she did, who she slept with or who she became she would never be the other woman never be the reason a child never saw their father, never be the reason why a child should grow up the same way she had to, never be part of an affair, yet when she finds herself sleeping with her married boss, she tells herself its okay because he's separated, that its not an affair if his wife left him, that she isn't the other woman if the wife is out of the picture, even if the couple still wear the rings on their fingers, even if they're still legally married.

She tells herself its fine because he and Haley are separated, she tells herself its different because Hotch still see's his son, she tells herself she isn't like the woman her father married after leaving her and her mother because she would never allow Hotch to abandon his family, she tells herself its not an affair, that its not the same, because otherwise the guilt would eat her alive, she tells herself its different because she can't end it, and the minute she allows herself to register that, separated or not, he is married she would have to.

"You okay?" he asks as he steps into the bathroom. He stands behind her, placing soft kisses on her neck as he wraps her in his arms, his hand locking over her abdomen as she smirks at him through the mirror, tilting her head to the side as he began to undo her robe with a playful smirk of his own. Laughing, she leans her back into him, resting against his chest safely as he places a kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah," she sighs contently, lacing her fingers through his own with a raised eyebrow, stopping him from pulling the robe open. He walks them backwards, a smile on his lips as he presses them into her neck, only to be interrupted by his phone and he curses his under breath as he digs through his pockets to find it, still keeping her wrapped up in him with one arm over her waist.

"Hotchner," he answers, winking at her when their eyes catch in the mirror. "Of course, we will be right in." he says, ending the call as quickly as he answered it. "We have a case." he tells her, kissing her cheek before exiting the bathroom, and she simply watches him go, a small smile on her face as her cheek burns from the touch of his lips, has to force herself to remember that this is casual, that they can't that they never will be anything more than what they are now, reminds herself that he will go back to Haley, and reminds herself that if she gets attached, she will get hurt, and pushes down her feelings, refusing to acknowledge the ache in her chest at the thought of this... them being over.

They, of course, spend their nights together in the hotel. He makes sure to get a room at the end of the hall, away from prying eyes and ears and in different cities he can take her hand in the hotel bar when the team have left, he can kiss her softly in the streets in the dark when he sneaks them both out in the dead of night, in different cities when the team isn't around he can pretend their not a secret, she can pretend there are no consequence's and they can pretend its just them.

They make plans to go to her place, the two of them denying drinks with the team for different reasons with a sneaky look to each other that no one notices and they're halfway out of the door when he's served with the papers, and suddenly nothing about them feels the way it had over the last three months and she can only watch him go as the knot in her stomach tightens, can only creep past the team and rush into the bathroom and breathe, leaning her head against the door as she tries to calm down, her heart hammering in her chest while she closes her eyes, taking deep breaths in hope that it will get rid of her nausea. Her mind spins, memories of them flashing in front of her eyes and she wants to scream, unsure of where this leaves them... leaves her.

-

Hotch all but storms out of the office and towards his car, slamming the door behind him as he throws the papers onto the passenger seat, embarrassment igniting in his body at what just happened. He’s their boss and now his personal life will be spreading like wild fire around the office, something he never wanted. He drives with fury, his whole body running on fumes as he thinks back to the look of pity written on all their faces. Yet, that embarrassment changes to something he can’t quite describe, an ache in his gut, as his mind lands on Emily. He curses to himself as he realises he left without so much as a glance in her direction, already hating how he knows exactly what she is thinking, about how fragile her trust is, especially in him, in them, the unsurety of their... situation something that lingers between them whenever they are together, even if it does go ignored.

He wonders for half a moment, why in the same hour he was handed divorce papers, he is far more concerned with Emily, about how she is, about how they are, but the moment ends as he pulls up outside his old home; he grabs the papers, the anger and embarrassment swooping right back in, taking over.

He knocks on the door of the house that just four months ago, used to be his own and waits, taking a breath as the lock clicks.

“What are you doing here?” Haley asks as she opens the door. “Jack’s asleep.”

“You didn’t think to call me before you had divorce papers sent to the office?” he asks, holding up the papers. “Do you know how humiliating that is?”

“I didn’t know where else to send them.” she explains.

“You could have called. I would-"

“I could have called?” she laughs, “Aaron, I don’t even know if you’re in the city half the time. I knew if I sent them to the office, at least you’d find them.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head, “Not only do you not even talk to me about separating in the first place, but you throw these in my face as well?”

“Will you stop shouting?” she hisses, pulling him inside with his sleeves. “You’re doing to attract the neighbours.”

“I don’t care about the neighbours,” he mutters, throwing the papers into the glass table and turning to face her. “You should have called me.”

“Why?” she questions, “I’ve given you months, to try and fix this, to do something that shows you still care but I’ve had nothing from you, not unless it’s about Jack.” she sighs, “I don’t have anymore time to give you, Aaron.”

“Would it have changed anything? If I’d have tried harder?” he questions.

When she looks to the ground, he has his answer, and all of a sudden he doesn’t feel that guilty about Emily anymore.

“Then I guess it’s a good job I didn’t waste my time trying.” he tells her and she scoffs, shaking her head.

“God you,” she stops, looking at him, “You really don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“That I didn’t just wait three months for you, Aaron. I feel like I've been waiting for you ever since you made Unit Chief three years ago.” she tells him, “It’s like we were never enough for you, you always had to be somewhere else.”

“I was doing my job-"

“Yeah,” she says, “I know. I’m not having this argument with you again.” Haley tells him, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you about the papers, I should have warned you I was filing for divorce.”

It almost seems then that there’s nothing left to say, that if almost ten years of marriage has come down to an argument in the living room of a house he no longer lives in when she speaks again.

“You don’t feel you have anything to apologise for?” Haley questions, and his head snaps up to look at her.

“What?” he says, “Of course I do, I have a lot to apologise for but..”

“But?” she laughs.

“But I’m not going to stand here and take the blame for the fall out of our marriage when we know full well you stepped out months before you walked out.” he tells her and she stares at him with shock.

“You don’t get to throw that in my face,” She hisses at him, “You don’t get to act like you haven’t been— I may have made some mistakes but do not stand there and tell me you hadn't thought about doing the same thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Emily..” she shouts, “are they really just a friend?” she asks him, “You must think I’m stupid. And don’t stand here and tell me the two of you aren’t something, I’ve seen the two of you, don’t make me out to be the cheater here.”

“You slept with someone else, Haley. While we were together. This is not the same."

“I needed someone, Aaron. And you weren’t here.” she shouts, “You were never here.”

“So that makes it okay?” he shouts back.

“No.” she sighs, anger boiling beneath her skin, “but how many times do I have to tell that when I cheated it didn’t mean anything?” she asks him loudly. He turns to face her, seeing complete red as they come to blows for the first time since she walked out.

“Well then that’s a waste, because when I cheated it did.” he says back to her, before taking a breath, watching as she nods her head slowly and wipes her tears. "I—"

"I guess you were right then," she says softly, "its certainly not the same..."

"Haley—"

"Don't," she tells him, "do you love her?" she asks, and he drops his head to the floor because he didn't have an answer, he didn't know. The only word he can think being maybe.

"Then there's nothing left to say," she says quietly, "we can't come back from this, Aaron. We were over the moment she joined the team... we were over the moment we both found comfort with someone else." she walks over to him, places her hand in his as they look at each other. “Sign the papers, Aaron. Set us free." she whispers, before smiling sadly and walking away, he simply watches, before grabbing the papers and walking out of the door, drives mindlessly with no destination in mind while he replays the moment his marriage ended once and for all.

When I had cheated it didn't mean anything.

When I cheated it did.

-

He finds himself parking in front of her apartment, as if he had driven there unconsciously and he sighs, closing his eyes as he leans his head against the back of the seat. With a deep breath he composes himself, looks at the papers and gets out of the car, heading into her building with the hope that she would at least just talk to him.

-

She’s in her own little bubble, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt as she stares out of the window, blowing the smoke from her mouth when three knocks at her door spook her out of her trance. She flicks the cigarette out of the window and stands, pulling the jumper down over her shorts as she heads towards the door, looking through the peep hole she sighs as he sees him, leaning her head on the door before she opens it, resting against the frame as he stands in front of her.

“Hi,” she says softly, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies in such a delicate tone she swears she’s never heard from him before. “I was hoping we could talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” she asks, dropping the side of her head onto the door frame as she wraps an arm around her front.

“Us...” he says hesitatingly, knowing putting a name on them at this stage is risky.

“Aaron...” she sighs, looking to the floor. “Us, is a string of late night hook up’s in hotels across the country, a hand full in my apartment, behind closed doors...” she tells him, “We’re casual sex at best. You have a family, a son, a wife.”

“A wife who’s filing for divorce.” he reminds her, “Please, can we just talk?”

She looks at him, opening the door wider and stepping aside as he walks through.

“Have you been smoking?” he asks as she follows him through the hall.

“I’m not nineteen anymore,” she smirks, “you can’t tell my mother.”

“I never did.” he says with a playful smile of his own, “You were just lousy at hiding it.”

“Yes well, it seems I was lousy about hiding a lot of things.” she jokes, “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure,” he says, taking the beer from her with a smile. “I thought you quit?” he asks her, tilting his head towards the open window.

“I did,” She says, “For a little while.” there’s almost a sadness in her voice, one that makes him stare just that little bit longer at her, noticing that she almost can’t meet his eye. “I guess I’m a sucker for bad habits." she mumbles, meeting his eye finally and he simply smiles.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" she sighs, "I can't kept doing this dance with you, I—" she stops, shaking her head, "what do you want from me?"

"Nothing," he tells her, "I just wanted you to know that there is an us, that this isn't just casual anymore... that we are something, that we can be something." he adds, looking at her as she stares back at him, hesitance written all over her face. "Give me time, let me get Jack through the transition... and I will come back to you. We can try, properly." he tells her, smiling when she lets out a laugh, her own smile growing on her face. "I'm signing the papers. Not for you. Not for us. But for me. For Haley. For Jack." he tells her, "my marriage was over long before you were became part of the picture. It's time." he says, standing right in front of her and he smiles. "Maybe in a few months I can take you on that date I promised..." he whispers and she smirks.

"You never promised to take me on a date." she tells him softly, and he places a finger under her chin, leaning forward slightly.

"I have now." he whispers, before kissing her. "Give me thirty days." he tells her as they separate, and she laughs.

"Okay." she accepts, "I only eat in fancy restaurants." she tells him as he heads for the door and he turns, smiling at her.

"Noted." he winks, before leaving her apartment, hope building in both of their chests for a future together they can now work for, rather than ignore. 

[rebelwrites]

The Flame That Never Died

Harvey Specter x Reader

A/N I said the other day I didn’t know whether to start writing for Harvey Specter and Mike Ross (from suits) so this is kinda testing the waters a bit as they aren’t many fics for them 🥺

Request by @little-diable : Okay so, what if the reader and Harvey had a thing going on at uni but once they graduated they lost contact. Maybe she needs help with getting out of a marriage where the husband is idk abusive or too powerful for her to just leave him and she seeks Harvey out and they fall for each other once again?

This wasn’t the life you wanted, you didn’t want to be the trophy wife, the one that was to complete the act that your husband put on for the world.

The life you wanted was the life of a lawyer, you had gone through law school coming out 2nd in the class. Being beaten by the one person who would always have your heart. The one and only Harvey Specter. But as soon as you graduated you went your separate ways. You were on the next flight to Chicago to look after your mother, your dreams of becoming a lawyer put on the back burner.

You hadn’t even bothered getting changed out of your sweatpants and oversized hoodie. The house felt so empty, it wasn’t a home, it meant nothing to you. It was a Friday night, the night you would always go over to your mum’s but today was a year since you lost her.

All you wanted was to be held, but no you were in the massive house alone whilst your husband was out with his latest flavour of the week.

You didn’t know what you were doing when you booked the next flight out of chicago. A flight to the one place you could call home. New York City. You were done being the second best.

Pushing yourself off the sofa you ran into your bedroom, pulling the suitcases out and chucking everything you could fit into the case. Including your Harvard certificates. This was about you and you will do anything to get your life back on track. And you needed help to do it, all you were known as were Mrs Beckett, it wouldn’t be a simple process filing the divorce papers but you knew just the person who would help.

Staring up at the building, you took a deep breath, as you walked in with two coffees in one hand and your suitcase in the other. You just hoped Harvey would help you still seen as you both lost contact with each other.

“Hi I wonder if you can help me?” You asked the security guy “I’m looking for Harvey Specter”

“Is he expecting you?” The guy said not looking up from his screen.

“Urm no” you sighed.

“Then no I can’t help you then” he laughed.

You knew this was a bad idea turning up unannounced. Turning on your heels you had decided to give up until you were stopped.

“Sorry did you say you were wanting to see Harvey?” A young guy asked.

“Yeah” you nodded.

“I’m Mike his associate” he smiled “I know you don’t have an appointment but something tells me this is important, so come on”

“Thank you” you smiled softly.

“Mike” Donna hissed gaining his attention “who have you just put in Harvey’s office?”

“She said her name was Y/N Beckett” Mike shrugged “she said it was important and that she’s an old friend”

“You know who she is right?” Donna said watching you through the glass walls “that’s Lucas Beckett’s wife”

“Wait as in Lucas Beckett the politician”

“Yeah” Donna nodded pulling her phone out to call Harvey “which means her and Harvey go way back”

You don’t know how long you were sitting in Harvey’s office, but time was dragging. Hearing the door open you took a deep breath before turning around.

“Hey Harv” you smiled

“Please tell me my eyes aren’t deceiving me” He smirked as you passed him the coffee you brought.

“Well I hope I’m real you idiot” you laughed as he pulled you into a hug.

“What brings you to my office?” He asked sitting at his desk “not that I’m complaining at all, I mean it’s been what seven years since I last saw you”

“I need your help” you said quietly.

“Anything” he nodded leaning forward on his forearms.

“I’m divorcing Lucas” you said, not making eye contact. “But I know it’s going to get messy so I need a lawyer and honestly you were the first person I thought of”

“It’s about time you divorced that prick” Harvey said “I mean as long as I can remember you wanted to be a lawyer and that prick stopped you”

“I know” you sighed “and he’s been cheating on me”

“You deserve so much better” Harvey sighed “tell you what, I will get Donna to clear my schedule for the day and you and me are going to go for dinner”

“Can I at least get changed first” you laughed pointing down to your outfit.

“Tell you what we will head back to mine and I will change and we will go to a low key place you know like old times” he smiled standing up from his desk to speak to Donna.

Part of you regretted ever losing contact with Harvey. But that was in the past now. Within a few minutes he returned with the smile on his face that made you fall for him in law school.

“Come on then trouble” he smirked grabbing the handle of your suitcase “also have you got anywhere to stay?”

“No” you said shaking your head “it was kinda a last minute decision”

“Well then you can stay with me” he smiled “it will be just like old times”

It had been a month since you left Chicago, meaning you have lived with Harvey for a month now. It was like you guys never lost contact, and was like old times with added flirting. It also meant you so called husband hadn’t contacted you at all showing how much he actually cared about you.

You were currently making breakfast whilst Harvey was in the shower, or so you thought. A low whistle brought your attention away from the stove.

“Damn I forgot how good you look in just one of my shirts” He smirked, making you bite your lip.

“As much as I like where this is going Harvs can we hold off until I am actually divorced” you whispered looking at him standing there in just a towel. “And please go put some clothes on”

“What’s up is it distracting you sweetheart” he winked.

“You know damn well it is” you laughed. “I need to finish breakfast and then we can hopefully serve Lucas the divorce papers today”

“Did you ever regret marrying him?” Harvey asked.

“All the time” you sighed “did you look into my chances of starting at Pearson Hardman?”

“I’ve got a meeting with Jessica today” he smiled “who knows you might become the next Harvey Specter”

“What like you have done with Mike” you laughed “I mean seriously Harvs he is like a mini you it’s kind of scary”

“Leave Mike alone” Harvey laughed as he walked back into his room to get dressed.

You were deep in thought and completely forgot about the food you were cooking until the smoke alarm went off scaring the shit out of you.

“Some things never change” Harvey laughed making sure you hadn’t set his kitchen on fire “still daydreaming and nearly kill us, what makes on your mind”

“Urm it’s nothing” you shrugged feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Sweetheart you burnt my bacon it’s definitely something” he said running his thumb across your cheek.

“Okay I was thinking about us” you whispered “as a couple and how much of a power couple we would be”

“It won’t be long before we can make that happen” he whispered before his lips connected with yours. He couldn’t help it, he had fallen for you once again and wasn’t planning on losing you. You felt him smirk into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Come on then trouble go get ready”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎-𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝐴 𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging, promoting, nor romanticizing yandere or mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: This reaction contains scenes of violence, blood, death, and other material that might not be suitable for some people. Reader discretion advised.

❧𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

The fact Hongjoong seemed completely unfazed by you throwing the stack of papers on his desk was starting to frighten you.

"Aren't you going to look over them?" You asked him when he made no move nor any sound.

Hongjoong hummed softly before taking the packet and merely flipping the pages.

"I'm not going to ..... if you want me to sign over the papers, I'll gladly do it right now."

Now he was terrifying you. There was no way he was going to give in that easily.

You knew him too well.

Hongjoong smirked when he saw your suspicious look.

"Just get it over with so I can leave. It's almost time to pick up our son."

"Actually honey........ you won't find him there." He said as he picked up the ballpoint pen next to him.

Your head snapped up at him.

"What? What are you saying?! If you hurt my-"

"Our son, at least he still is at this moment, and you know I'd never let a single hair of his get harmed...."

Hongjoong hovered the pen above the dotted line at the bottom of the page.

"But I'm letting you know now Y/N, the second I sign these divorce papers, is the second you'll no longer be his mom or ever see him again."

There it was, just as you feared. He was blackmailing you into staying.

"Still want me to sign them?"

❧𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa sipped his tea calmly. Taking a quick glance at the clock, he let out a soft chuckle.

"She'll be here any minute."

Sure enough, just as the clock struck 10, the doors bursted open. He barely batted an eyelash at his wife who was now caged in between 2 very tall and muscular men who were carrying her in the room. Y/N swung her legs around, trying desperately to free herself but it was no use. They managed to sit her down at the opposite end of the table.

"Sit the fuck down."

Seonghwa's voice boomed throughout the dining room, and Y/N immediately abandoned her plan of running out the door once the security guards left. Seonghwa was even more menacing than them combined.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhaled and then released a heavy sigh.

"Seriously? You start acting up these last few days and I let it go because I'm trying to be patient...."

Reaching for something underneath his plate, he threw it across so it landed right in front of Y/N.

"But that is the last straw."

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa was right in front of her, harshly gripping her chin as he made her look into his cold and fiery eyes.

"Let me make this clear Y/N: you're my wife. I own you..... and I won't let you go around embarrassing me with some divorce shit."

Letting go of her, Seonghwa shoved her face away rather harshly.

"As if marrying you in the first place wasn't humiliating enough...."

❧𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

"Y/N....what are you-?"

When Yunho got the call from the lawyer telling him that you had filed for the divorce, he refused to believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He loved you, and you obviously loved him. It had to be a mistake.

But when he came home and found you packing the last of your things, reality hit him. You kept refusing to answer his questions, merely brushing past him as if he didn't exist. Getting frustrated, Yunho gripped your arms and held you in place.

"For God's sake Y/N! Why can't we just talk about this?! Talk to me! We have to work this out!" He didn't realize he began to shake her rather violently.

"There's nothing to work out here Yunho! I'm sick of all this! I'm sick of your possessiveness and I'm done!" You cried out.

"No baby please don't! I promise you I can change! Just please don't walk out on me!"

He embraced you tightly when you tried to push him off, his height and strength making your attempts at pulling away futile. His desperate sobs began to make you feel guilty, making you start to regret your decision......

But the still rational part of you refused to give in. You had to get out....

Even if you ended up destroying Yunho and yourself in the process.

❧𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang stared coldly at you. He had just finished reading the documents and he was definitely not amused. Without even blinking or moving his gaze from you, he ripped the papers in half, throwing them onto the floor.

"You've really gotten more brazen these past months." He noted.

"What can I say? I learned it from you." You spat back.

Yeosang lifted his hand but stopped himself midway. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath before snapping his fingers. One of his guards immediately came up to you and landed a harsh slap to your cheek. Although it stung like a bitch, you refused to let any tears spill out and opted for keeping a straight face, knowing it'll piss him off even more.

"You can't keep me locked here with you forever Yeosang." You told him.

Raising an eyebrow at your challenging words, Yeosang hissed out:

"Oh no? Watch me."

He walked out of your room, motioning for two of the guards to stay positioned at your door. He glared at you as he closed the doors, the sound of them being locked resonating throughout the room.

Now you definitely were trapped.

❧𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

When they brought the documents to San and he took a look at them, he was furious. He actually got his gun out and shot the messenger dead with a bullet to the head.

"Where is she?!" He demanded.

"We don't know sir." One of his men replied.

"Well I'm giving you 1 hour to find her unless you want me to skin you all alive and feed you to the dogs. This is an order: find my wife and bring her back here. Do not harm her and most of all, do not allow her to try anything..."

San knew you were crazy enough to end your own life before allowing yourself to be taken back to him. You had already tried running away years before, which resulted in him caning your back so severely that it took you months to fully recover and to walk properly again. You remember when he warned you that if you tried anything like that again, he would not hesitate to torture you to death.

"I want her here! And I want her here alive! Do you understand me?!" He roared at his men.

"Sir yes sir!"

The men quickly sparsed themselves out, dedicated to finding you and bringing you back to your devil of a husband.

San looked out the window, his eyes squinting in rage and disgust as he looked at the city lights beneath him.

"I'll find you Y/N, you can't hide from me forever. Even if I have to set the entire city on fire and burn it to the ground, I will find you...

And I will kill you. "

❧𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi grunted, his fist once again colliding with the poor man's face which was already badly bruised and dripping insane amounts of blood. But it wasn't enough for Mingi. He was livid, he was like a beast, and most of all, he was going insane after being told that not only you had filed for divorce but that you had actually left the country to god knows where.

"Fucking christ! Where is she?! Why can't any of you give me any answers?!" He shouted at the terrified people behind him.

"S-sir, we're trying our b-best.." they tried to explain.

"Well obviously, it's not good enough!"

Reaching his limit, he violently bashed the man's head against the concrete wall, cracking his skull open as blood spurted all over Mingi's shirt, neck and jaw, effectively putting an end to the man's suffering.

"Sir? We got a confirmation."

Mingi's eyes lit up instantly when he heard that. His subordinate showed him the coordinates of where you were located and even got a hold of the hotel room you were staying in.

Not able to wait any longer, Mingi gave orders for his plane to be prepared. Getting out his phone, he immediately called your room, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would burst out his chest.

"Hello?"

He stopped breathing for a moment when he finally heard your voice.

"Baby? Please wait for me.....

I'm coming for you."

❧𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you.

"Do you want to die?" He questioned you.

"Why? Are you offering?" You counteracted him.

"Don't fucking test me cause I can easily arrange it."

Whether it was you feeling a little more brave or you simply had forgotten the kind of man Wooyoung really was, you had the audacity to scoff at him.

"But you won't Wooyoung. You're not going to kill me. Cause you're so puffed up with pride and power and with this obsessive need to control me, that if you kill me, you'd lose that power....."

You smirked at his shocked expression.

"And you can't have that now, can you?"

Wooyoung lifted his hand to slap you, but you quickly evaded it, landing a punch to his stomach that had him doubling over. You began running away, almost reaching the door when you cried out in pain as a loud bang sounded through the room. You clutched your leg as blood poured out from your shin, meanwhile Wooyoung strolled over to you, gun in his hand.

"You're right..... I won't kill you...

But that doesn't mean I won't hurt you.."

❧𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho's eye and hand began to twitch as soon as he saw you walk in with Yunho, not liking your close proximity.

"Yunho....... distance." He reminded his friend.

Yunho looked over at you, who were now trembling slightly. Now Yunho understood why you begged him to accompany you for this. Sighing, Yunho merely walked up to Jongho and handed him the folder in his hands. Jongho furrowed his eyebrows as he peered through the contents. He immediately threw them on the floor in outrage.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" He demanded to know.

You winced at his tone of voice and immediately stood behind Yunho for protection, which only enraged Jongho more.

"I swear to God, if you're leaving me for him.."

Jongho walked up and tried to tear you away from Yunho, but luckily Yunho intervened and kept him from landing a finger on you.

"Let me go you fucking bastard! How dare you take my wife away from me!" Jongho accused him.

"First of all it's not like that and as long as I'm here, I won't let you hurt her! Jongho you've got to stop!"

But being stronger than the taller male, Jongho easily shoved him to the floor. He then proceeded to corner you in the wall, pining your arms as he slammed you against it. Yunho now panicked and accidentally blurted out:

"Jongho stop! You'll not only hurt her but the baby-"

Yunho immediately clasped a hand over his mouth as he realized he said what you wanted to keep secret. Jongho looked at Yunho then at you, who had fear written all over your face. Jongho softened up a little as his hands clasped around your stomach.

"And you still tried to leave me...?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 1)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you’d probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on the prologue!! like WOW i couldn't have expected that big of a response so THANK YOU!!! As a reminder: I already have the first 17 chapters out on ao3, so I will be updating on here pretty quickly! This takes place two years after the prologue, and this is where the actual storyline starts!

masterlist || read on ao3

Anything you say can and will be held against you

So only say my name

It will be held against you

-Fall Out Boy, “Just One Yesterday”

Present Day- Two Years Later

You tugged at the handcuff that was attaching you to the interrogation table, hoping that if you glared at it enough, it would just go away. One minute, you were at your apartment and getting ready to go out with some of your friends, and the next minute Metro D.C. police were banging on your door, ordering you to go with them, no charges and no explanation.

So now you were just stuck, sitting and waiting for somebody to tell you what the hell this all was about. Law school had taught you enough about interrogation tactics, and they were pulling out all of the stops- turning down the room temperature, forcing you to sit in the most uncomfortable chair you’ve ever been in, and just making you be by yourself in the metal room. A small part of you was nervous, but mostly you were just confused. You couldn’t think of anything you’d done that would warrant your arrest.

Just as the isolation of the room was about to get to you, the door swung open and in walked two people. The first one was a petite blonde woman and following her was a younger looking man in a cardigan. You narrowed your eyes slightly at the site of them. You had expected the usual “good cop/bad cop” technique, but neither of these cops looked very intimidating.

“Hi there,” the woman spoke, sliding into the chair across from you. “My name is Agent Jareau and this is Dr. Reid. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

Her name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you knew it from. You raised an eyebrow and jutted your head towards Dr. Reid. “Is the handsome one not an agent?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

Dr. Reid seemed unphased by your question, as if he was used to that question. “I am an agent. But I also have three doctorates,” he answered.

You just smirked at him before looking back at Agent Jareau. She had placed a file on the table, the seal of the FBI practically staring you in the face. Whatever they brought you in for was an FBI matter? Oh, you were definitely screwed. You tried to keep your cool. “So are you guys going to actually charge me with anything, or are you just going to hold me for 72 hours until you find something to stick?” you accused.

Agent Jareau shook her head, and you were still desperately trying to remember how you knew that name. “The faster you cooperate, the faster we can let you go.” It didn’t go unnoticed to you that she refused to answer your question. She leaned over the table slightly to slide the file towards you and you caught a glimpse of her ID. Everything came back to you at once.

Jennifer Jareau. FBI. Business cards. “You can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU…” Holy shit, you did know that name.

You laughed softly to yourself and crossed your legs as the memories came flooding back. “Okay, I’ll cooperate,” you agreed, but you were looking directly at the two way mirror. “But only if I can speak to your unit chief. It still is Aaron Hotchner, correct?” Your voice was innocent enough to not be too suspicious, but you knew it would drive Aaron crazy. It was the same voice you would use when he had a fistfull of your hair and you were promising to be his good girl.

You could only imagine what was going on behind that two way mirror; Aaron’s team looking at him with complete and utter confusion, trying to figure out how you knew him, all while Aaron was probably clenching his teeth, red with anger. Maybe if you made him mad enough, he would bend you over the interrogation table once everybody else had left.

Jennifer and Dr. Reid shared a quick glance before looking back at you. Dr. Reid spoke first. “It would be best if we could go over our questions with you first.”

You bopped your head, pretending to think it over. “I get it, the two of you have a job to do and you have a strategy to stay in control, so I’ll give you guys a choice. You can let me speak to Agent Hotchner or I lawyer up and invoke the 5th.”

Like clockwork, the door swung open violently and Aaron stormed in. “I’ll take it from here,” he ordered, and the other two agents quickly shuffled out of the room.

He sat down in the seat across from you and you just raised the hand that was handcuffed to the table, wiggling your fingers. He was pissed, you could tell, and you loved every second of it. You leaned over the table, signalling for him to move closer to you. He hesitated, which earned him a roll of your eyes, but he eventually leaned over the table too.

“If you wanted me in handcuffs again for you, you didn’t have to go through all this effort. My phone number hasn’t changed,” you whispered, low enough so that the group watching on the other side of the mirror couldn’t hear. He refused to answer and instead just pulled back to his normal seated position. Ever the good agent, Aaron’s face went back to it’s normal, stoic look, and it made you pout. You wanted to get more of a rise out of him.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he said cooly. “Why don’t we get started?” You realized with a sinking feeling that he was already starting to lose interest in you flirting, his attention focused back on the task at hand, attention that you selfishly wanted all to yourself.

You slipped off the heels you were wearing and stretched your leg out so that your foot could brush against his leg. If you couldn’t touch him with your hands right now, you were going to make sure he could feel you in some way. His eyes shot up to yours, giving you a warning look, as if to say “Stop right now or I’m going to make you.”

You knew that look too well, craved for it even. You just responded with a smirk and dropped your foot, relishing in the fact that he actually looked slightly disappointed that you stopped.

“How are Haley and Jack doing, Aaron?” you asked lazily, leaning back in your chair. “Visiting them more often?”

Aaron cleared his throat and ran his hand down his tie to flatten it, as if it had come out of place. He was always so put together at work. “Jack is fine. Haley passed away a while ago,” he said quickly, and guilt immediately engulfed you.

You lowered your gaze so that you were staring at the interrogation table. “Oh,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry.” And you really were sorry. Sure, your relationship, or lack of relationship, with Haley was weird. You were sleeping with her ex before the divorce papers had time to be fully submitted, and even though Aaron was well in his right to be with whoever he wanted, the two of you still found yourselves sneaking around with each other. But you never had anything against her personally- she seemed like a great mother and obviously made Aaron happy for however long they were married.

Besides, you could take a guess as to what happened to Haley. Your fling with Aaron lasted for a fun few months, neither of you ever expecting anything other than sex whenever you met up, so when you and Aaron had decided to stop seeing each other, it was completely amicable. He had explained that the BAU was closing in on a serial killer who was going after him and his family, and you did not want to be involved in that mess. The fact that Haley died right as a serial killer was chasing her… that definitely wasn’t just a coincidence.

The tension was thick in the room as the two of you desperately searched for how to continue the conversation. What were you supposed to say after finding out your fuck buddy’s ex wife was murdered?

You started talking before your brain could even process what you were saying. “Well, like told you, if you ever need somebody to help you pick up those broken pieces...”

He ignored you, electing to direct the conversation in his own direction. “You know, I read the paper you were working on,” he said casually, and that sure caught you by surprise.

“You did?” you asked.

“You piqued my interest,” he admitted. “Your professor and I worked on a few cases together, so he gave me a copy. It was good. You are much more professional on paper.”

“I could say the same about you,” you countered, and he gave you a hint of a genuine smile.

“Although I did notice that you didn’t mention The People vs. Michaelson anywhere in it.” There was something in his voice that put you on edge. You could feel yourself walking into his trap, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know more.

You shrugged. “Well, I got some shit information about the case.”

For a split second, you thought you saw a flash of the old Aaron, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and he was business as usual. “What intrigued me even more, however,” he continued, completely ignoring your previous comment. “Was that you didn’t mention recidivism at all, which is what that case is all about. Your thesis was on jury selection. Why ask me about the case if you weren’t going to use the information for school?”

You glared at him and clenched your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms. What a dick. He knew why you were interested in the case- it mirrored your father’s situation almost perfectly. You were 12 the first time your father was arrested. When your mom realized that your dad was involved with some shady people, she immediately turned him into the cops to protect you. The prosecutor barely even tried during the case and your dad was in and out of prison within two years. The day he was released, he came right back to your home and killed your mom out of revenge. He’s now rotting in a max security prison for life, but you were still angry that he even had the opportunity to come after your mom. It’s why you wanted to become a prosecutor in the first place, so that you could ensure these criminals were actually brought to justice.

Aaron knew all that. You realized as he began to inch the case file closer to you that he was just trying to knock you off balance. The actual interrogation hadn’t even started yet. “And you say that I’m the one who gets under people’s skin,” you snapped at him.

Aaron humed to himself, arrogance oozing off of him. If you weren’t so angry at him, you would have thought it was hot. “You’re currently interning at DuPont and Associates?” You nodded, annoyed at him brushing off your last comment. “What do you know about the recent string of murders in the area?” Aaron asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his question. “Um… Just what they’re saying on the news? Somebody has been killing a bunch of people whose cases were dismissed because of technicalities- their Miranda rights were read incorrectly and that kind of stuff. I haven’t really been keeping up,” you admitted, still unsure of why you were there.

Aaron flipped open the case files, and instead of gruesome crime scene photos, you just saw legal briefs. More shocking, however, was that they were all legal briefs you had helped write. “Each of these victims had their initial cases through duPont and Associates, and we found that you were the only person who assisted on every case. What did you think about those dismissals? Some of these people really should have been locked up, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried desperately to find the words to say. Unconsciously, you started to tug at the handcuff again, as if they would suddenly just release you if you fought it enough. “Maybe, but that’s not really my decision,” you said disdainfully. Then the fear and realization slowly creeped into you. “Wait you don’t… you guys don’t think I did this, do you?” Your voice was rough and panicky.

Aaron placed his hands on the cold metal of the interrogation table, his fingers interlocked. His FBI Unit Chief exterior melted away ever so slightly. “No, I don’t,” he said softly, and his use of “I” instead of “We” did not go unnoticed by you. You weren’t sure if you were comforted by that or not. “But you are our best lead right now, and I think you know more than you realize. We have reason to believe that the unsub works for the law firm you’re interning at and is playing out a vigilante fantasy and considering you are the only one who actually worked on every single case, we need to use you and your position at the firm to get more intel.”

We need to use you. He realized his slip before he even finished his sentence. It was innocuous enough that his team probably didn’t even notice it; He was just letting a potential witness know that they were going to be an important part of the investigation. But you knew Aaron better than that, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to figure out how to go back on what he just said.

You gave him a smirk and brought your elbows up on the table, steepling your fingers. Of course you were going to help them, whatever they needed. You’d do that even if Aaron wasn’t involved. But after being forcibly brought to the interrogation room, you figured you could make him sweat a little. “Oh Aaron, I’m flattered that you think I could be an asset to the BAU’s investigation. But if you want something from me, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

You got him right where you wanted him. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy with the roll reversal, using his own words against him. But you missed the playful banter between you and Aaron, and nobody knew how to get you off the way he did. Aaron had quite literally ruined sex for you, much to your disappointment. The other people you had slept with since meeting Aaron all lacked the confidence and intelligence that Aaron brought to every meeting, and they could never walk that fine line of fucking you like they adored you and hated you at the same time.

The way that Aaron would demand you to ask and use your words was more than just a way for him to remain in control, although you knew that was definitely part of it. And it was more than just checking for consent- that always came earlier and you had your safeword. No, it was more than all of that. He wanted to hear you beg for the things you wanted, as if he wanted to be validated; He always wanted to know that you still wanted him, which you did. So you just kept asking him for things, and he happily kept giving them to you.

Aaron looked downright murderous, his eyebrows scrunched together and his breathing getting heavier. He stood up and slammed the case file shut. “I’m not going to ask for anything, because where I’m standing, I have the control here. In case you forgot, you’re in handcuffs and I can walk out of here whenever I want.” But even as he said it, he stayed exactly where he was, his hands on the table and leaning down so that he was closer to you.

In return, you just arched your eyebrow at him, waiting for his question. He had to ask you for the sake of his job and the case and you both knew it, and you got a strange satisfaction from watching him have to ask you for something for once. He stared at you for a few moments, jaw clenching, until he realized the entire BAU team was behind the two way mirror watching this situation go down. “Will you please help us with the case?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You gave him a smug smile, which only served to irritate him further. “I would love to,” you told him, your voice too sweet and too innocent. “Now can you please take my handcuffs off?”

Aaron walked towards you wordlessly, taking the keys out of his pockets. “You’ll still have to wait here for a few minutes so that you can sign some papers,” he told you, keeping his voice even, but it all changed as he kneeled next to you, slowly unlocking the handcuffs. His fingers lingered on your skin for far too long to be considered appropriate. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he whispered in your ear, voice low enough so that nobody could hear what he was saying. “You’re going to be in handcuffs for the rest of night while I punish you for that little show you decided to give everybody. Did you already forget how to not be a brat? Do I have to teach you again?”

His words made your arousal shoot straight to your core. You were released with a soft click! and you rubbed your irritated wrist lightly. “Yes,” you practically moaned, and you were sure that your face was flushed. And just like that, it was as if only a few days had passed since you and Aaron had last seen each other, instead of two years. The two of you fell back into an easy rhythm. “I still live in the same apartment. Five minutes from here.”

With that, Aaron stormed out of the interrogation room, already barking orders at the cops. “Get her processed and out of here quickly, I don’t want to spend anymore time on this,” he demanded, making a beeline to grab his stuff. Unfortunately for him, Rossi was standing right in front of Aaron’s bag, a knowing smirk on his face. Aaron stopped mid step and groaned in annoyance. “Dave, don’t.”

Rossi just ignored him. “Old friend?” he asked, stepping aside just enough to let Aaron grab his bag.

Aaron looked around quickly and was relieved to see that there were no other BAU members near them. “You could say that,” Aaron mumbled and started to walk to the doors.

To his dismay, Rossi just followed him. “She’s pretty,” Rossi hummed, and Aaron hated how easily Rossi was able to keep this conversation so casual. “Not your usual type, though.” It didn’t take a profiler to get the underlying comment: She’s young.

Aaron took an audible breath, keeping his eyes on the exit sign that seemed to be getting further and further away. “Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off, unable to find a good response.

“When did you meet her?”

Aaron paused, deciding how honest he was going to be. He figured that if anybody was going to find out, it would be Rossi, and if he was honest with Rossi now, they would be able to keep it a secret from the rest of the team. He cleared his throat. “An alumni event at George Washington. Before Foyet but after the divorce.” Another pause. “Right after the divorce,” he clarified.

Rossi just nodded understandably, a soft “Ah” coming from his lips. He would push the full story out of Aaron later, but it was obvious that Aaron was just desperate to get out of the police station. “Okay, well... I will let the team know about your emergency meeting with Strauss that she just called, which is why you’re leaving so quickly. And if they ask, from what you’re telling me, Y/N is just one of Sean’s old friends from before he dropped out of law school. I’m pretty sure you never got along with his friends, am I correct?” Sometimes, Rossi was too good at thinking on his feet.

Aaron turned to face Rossi, his mouth open and ready to argue, but he knew there was no point. With Rossi’s lie, it would keep the team from asking too many questions, at least until Aaron got his need for you out of his system. Just one night, he promised himself. That’s all I’ll need. So instead of arguing, Hotch just nodded at Rossi, a hint of a smile on his face. It made it all worth it, in Rossi’s eyes. Aaron hadn’t been this excited about a girl since Haley’s death. He deserved a night of fun. “Thank you,” Aaron breathed before swiftly stepping out of the police station.

[pedro-pascal-love]

The Unfortunate

Chapter Thirteen of Well, This is Awkward

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Rating: 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: Dave starts investigating with Susan and certain events transpire.

Warnings: Language, some fluff, soft!Dave, violence

A/N: Decided to post this a little early. The next couple chapters are going to be really intense so buckle up! There's going to be a fire in the Dave York pit with the next few updates! >:D

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“Fuck,” Dave said under his breath. You looked at him questioningly, making sure the girls were still preoccupied with the movie.

“What’s going on?” you whispered, spotting Dave’s phone face down on the couch.

“Nothing,” he replied with a shrug. You quirked your eyebrow at him.

Nothing my ass.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you state with finality before turning back to the movie.

You had gotten more confident in yourself over the last few months and Dave loved it. You used to be so timid, but now you were a changed woman. Two weeks before you had gone to Brussels his lawyer had reached out and let him know that Carol had reluctantly signed the divorce papers. He was officially rid of her and had excitedly told you later that day. He had originally thought of telling you while in Brussels but decided against it, instead telling you right after getting the news. He did not want to give you the news while he was on an assignment, knowing he would be too busy with other things.

He had finally accepted his feelings for you and had whispered them into the night while you slept, but he was still unsure of when to finally admit those feelings to you. He knew you loved him, but you also had not voiced your feelings to him short, of asking him if you were both dating that one day. He wanted to wait for you to tell him but was aware that you feared rejection with a passion. He thought that your trip might have shown you how much he cared for, but you remained quiet regarding your feelings and Dave was itching to tell you. However, with Susan’s text he knew that the timing was not right, and it would have to wait.

Once the movie had finished, Dave remained on the couch as you corralled the girls to the den, giving you and Dave some time alone. He watched you give each of them a kiss on the head through the security feed and heard them call you mom. He was overjoyed that the girls had accepted you as their new mother and had thought once or twice about making it a permanent role for you. On more than one occasion, Dave had caught himself browsing rings and had even gone as far as to look through your things while you were in the shower or dropping off the girls. He was looking for clues regarding your taste in jewelry and one day, to his delight, had stumbled upon your web browsing history. He studied the different styles and noted that you had an affinity for princess cut diamonds. He filed that information away and would use that in the future.

One day.

Soon.

After you left the den you sauntered back to the living room and sat next to Dave, pulling your legs up, settling your feet on his lap. You looked at him expectedly, wanting answers.

“What was that about?” you asked him firmly. Dave let out a sigh.

“I have to call Susan and get details about something, but I have a feeling I know what it is,” Dave answered.

“Susan?”

“She’s my colleague and works for the agency.”

“I thought you didn’t work for them anymore,” you stated in confusion.

“I sort of still do. The boys and I take off book assignments, but the agency still has useful resources. And Susan doesn’t exactly know,” he replied. “I have to give Susan a call now.” Dave stood up and you grabbed his hand and gazed up at him with sad eyes. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before walking out of the room and made his way to his office. Once he sat down at his desk, he dialed Susan’s number and heard her pick up after one ring.

“Dave,” she greeted.

“Hi Susan, what’s going on?” Dave replied, impatient to get the phone call over with as quick as humanly possible.

“We have a situation in Brussels. Join the Skype meeting I’m in and we’ll get more of the information from the Brussels police.” Dave woke his computer and joined the call.

“Give me the rundown,” Dave said as he greeted Susan and the detective from Brussels.

“It appears that there was murder-suicide. Mr. and Mrs. Calbert,” the detective began. “Gun oil on his lips. Nine-millimetre at his feet was registered to the victim. No other prints in the house. You have questions?”

“Well, Mr. Calbert did work for us. When something occurs to one of ours, the agency is obligated to look into it. So, yes, you will be hearing from us. Thank you. Keep it locked down until we get there please.”

Fuck, I knew that name sounded familiar.

How was I supposed to know he was one of ours?

Dave quickly looked through the agency’s database and came up with nothing.

“I can’t find a file on this guy. When did he become one of ours?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Upstairs kept him off the radar for some reason,” she replied.

“Susan. Car’s here. It’s okay?” Dave heard Brian’s voice.

“Oh, hey, Oh, you look great. What about a tie? You need a tie.”

“I’d do what she says, Brian,” Dave threw in.

“You have one?” Susan asked.

“Got it,” Brian replied.”

“Great, that’s perfect.”

“All right, I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun, sweetheart.”

“Bye,” Brian replied and appeared to leave.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to go there and cross the T’s. Wanna come?” Susan finally said to Dave.

“Oh, damn, and leave this shitty office. You know Brussels has the best chocolates,” Dave replied nonchalantly.

“Well, we better go. We’ll find out,” Susan said with a sip of her coffee. “I’ll book us a flight out for tomorrow.”

“What time tomorrow?”

“The flight is at 6pm sharp. I’ll meet you at the airport and give you more of the details that they’ll send us.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow. Have a good night, Susan,” Dave stated before ending the call.

This is going to be such a shitshow.

I need to figure out a way...

I can’t leave anything to chance.

Fuck! Dave thought as he began to formulate a plan…

You were exhausted but knew that the house needed tidying up. You let out a sigh as you got up from the couch and began to clean the kitchen, making sure that the dishes were put away and the counters wiped down. You proceeded to make your way around the house, picking things up as you went, before you decided to get ready for bed, even though it was still very early in the evening. You strolled into the master bedroom, which you had since moved into the week after you came home from the hospital. Dave had invited you to move into the room with him and you had gladly accepted, looking forward to making the nights you spent in his arms a nightly recurrence. You began to your nightly ritual of cleaning your face and brushing your teeth before making your way into the shared walk in. You waltzed over to Dave’s side and grabbed one of his shirts and slipped it on, the shirt falling just below the curve of your butt. You felt two arms encircle you and a gentle kiss placed on your neck and you let out a hum, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, hello there, sweetheart,” Dave greeted into your ear as he squeezed you slightly. You turned to face him and pulled him into a passionate kiss, slipping your arms around his neck.

“Hey yourself,” you replied with a grin. Dave shook his head and released you from his grip, sliding past you to get a set of pajama pants. “So how did the talk with Susan go?”

“I have to go back to Brussels,” he finally said with a disgruntled sigh.

“What? Why? We were just there,” you replied, confused as to why he had to go back. “Is it for another assignment?”

“You could say that. I fly out tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s so soon! We’ve only been back a few days,” you exclaimed, unhappy with the news.

“I know, baby. I know.” You looked at Dave, sadness evident in your eyes. “You’ll have to pick up the girls after piano lessons on your own tomorrow.”

“I can do that. Are you going to tell me why you have to go back?”

“I think it’s best that you don’t know,” Dave replied. You crossed your arms and let out a huff.

“Dave, if we’re going to be together you need to be honest with me. You took me with you on an assignment, but did not give me details, which is fine. But now you have to go back, and I want to know why.”

“They’re investigating a murder-suicide that happened with an agency affiliate,” Dave finally answered, gnawing over the fact that he might have to come clean about the job he had worked while you were on vacation. He understood your need to know the finer details, but he did not want to put you in an awkward situation, even though he knew you would not bat an eyelash at it.

“Is it the assignment you and the boys worked while we were there?” you bluntly asked him, not giving him an option to dodge the question.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “But I didn’t know he was tied to the agency.”

“So, the task was to kill some guy and his wife, and make it look like he had done it?” Dave nodded his head.

I’ll give her credit, she picked things up pretty quick.

“You have nothing to worry about, okay?” Dave reassured you, rubbing your arms comfortingly.

“You don’t know that,” you replied, pulling away from him. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Dave.”

“I promise everything will be fine. I already have things in motion so that it can’t lead back to me.”

“What things?”

“I think it’s best that you don’t know that bit,” he replied. You shook your head.

“No, Dave. That is not fair. If you are going out of the country, to basically investigate yourself, then I need to know exactly what you are going to do to fix this,” you huffed out. Dave shook it head, determined not to involve you in his affairs. “You promised you would be honest with me.

“I have to tie up loose ends, alright?” Dave growled out aggressively. “The more you know about what I have to do, the more you’re at risk. I am trying to keep you out of this in case people come sniffing around and ask you questions. Questions that you should not know the answers to. Are you satisfied?” You nodded, fear evident in your eyes.

“You know I would never betray you like that,” you muttered, looking down at the ground. He let out a breath and took your hands into his.

“I know, baby. But either way, I do not want to risk it, okay?” You nodded your head, not wanting to push the subject further. Dave brought your hands up and gave your knuckles a kiss. “Let’s go lay down, shall we?”

Dave guided you to the bed and you both slithered in, Dave pulling the blankets over you to get comfortable. You curled yourself up into his side and rested your head over his heart, wanting to get as close to him as possible. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, securing you against his body. You never wanted to leave his side and clung to him tightly.

“Dave?” you whispered, stroking small circles on his chest.

“Mm?” he hummed in response.

“I don’t want you to go,” you spoke out.

“I know.” He turned your bodies over, so you were side by side and looked into your eyes.

“I promise you that everything will be fine,” he said, placing a kiss to your forehead as you nodded. He reached over and pulled you into a heated kiss, slipping his hand down your side, coming to rest on the small of your back. You let out a moan at the action and pressed yourself up against him, wanting more. That night Dave made love to you tenderly, intertwining your bodies so close that there was no telling where one of you ended and the other began. He lovingly whispered sweet words to you as he claimed your body over and over again, making sure you would not easily forget him while he was away.

—ONE DAY LATER—

Dave made his way to the airport after bidding you goodbye that afternoon. You had shed a few tears and made him promise to be safe and to check in with you as much as he could. The uneasy feeling that you had would not cease and he had to reassure you several times that he would be fine. Plans were already set-in motion, and he was ready to deal with the aftermath should he need to. He had agreed to check in with you every night, anything to keep you calm. That had appeased you, but he knew that it would only be for a short while.

Dave made quick work of getting to the airport and made his way to the gate. He saw Susan sitting in one of the chairs, looking over a file while waiting to board and he walked over to plant himself next to her.

“Hey Susan,” he greeted nonchalantly. She looked up from the file and smiled.

“Hi Dave. Thanks for coming on such notice,” she said with a pat to his shoulder. He nodded at her words.

“No problem. So, what more do we have?”

“Take a look at these,” Susan replied, handing him the file she was previously looking at before his arrival. He sifted through the photographs, studying each one carefully. The first set of pictures were of a Calbert with his head cocked back, gun at his feet, brain matter painting the window behind him. Blood was splattered over some picture frames on the side table and there was gaping bullet hole in the window, whistling as air passed through. Dave shuffled through the photographs until he came to another set of photos, this time of Mrs. Calbert, face planted to the side on a dish, blood matting the table and plates beside her. Dave scanned through the police report and saw that the son had come home and seen his parents, alerting the police right away. Dave did not have to read anymore of the report, knowing exactly what had happened.

“So, the agency thinks that he killed her and then himself?” Susan nodded. “But over what?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out. We meet up with the police once we land and go over to the crime scene. They’ve already cleaned up most things but we’re going just in case they might have missed something.” Dave nodded as she spoke.

Fuck, I need to get things going faster than I thought.

“Flight 635 now boarding,” announced a voice over the speakers.

“That’s us,” Susan said as she got up and Dave followed. Dave’s mind was working overtime as he boarded the plane, shooting Resnik a quick text before shutting off his phone.

Dave: Make sure things are ready in a couple days.

—FLASHBACK—

Dave paced around his office, hand under his chin, devising a plan to get Susan off his scent. Susan was a seasoned investigator and a talented agent, so it would only be a matter of time before she put the pieces together. Dave could not risk that. He knew that there was nothing tying him to the supposed murder-suicide but given enough digging something might come up. Especially if the agency wanted answers.

“Fuck,” he cursed out as he unlocked his phone and dialed Resnik’s number.

“Yes, boss?” Resnik greeted.

“I’m going back to Brussels tomorrow with Susan. I need you to find two guys to do a job for us, make it look like it wasn’t a hit,” Dave spoke, irritation seeping out the more he thought about the situation.

Leave it to Susan to go looking into a job.

“On it. Just anyone or?”

“Someone we can get rid of in case we need to. Junkies or whoever. I don’t care,” Dave answered. “We’re going to be staying at the Hotel Manos Premier.”

“Okay, I’ll get things set up,” Resnik replied.

“Good. We’re going to investigate for a few days, and I’ll let you know when it’s time,” Dave declared before hanging up. He rubbed his temples, annoyed at the situation. He hated having to clean up messes, and this was turning out to be one hell of a mess.

Goddammit!

—END FLASHBACK—

The flight to Brussels went by quickly, as quickly as a ten-hour flight could be, and Dave was restless. Thankfully, he had been able to sleep for most of the flight but having to meet with the police right when they arrived was the cause for his annoyance. Once they landed Dave checked his phone and saw that he had a message from you and Resnik.

You: I hope you had a safe flight. I miss you already. Resnik: Things are almost set up. Should be ready to go by the end of the week.

Dave sent you a reply first.

Dave: Flight went by alright, would have preferred it if you were on it with me. Will be at the hotel later to call you.

Then he replied to Resnik.

Dave: Good. Make sure it is all ready by then and do not fuck this up.

He put his phone away as he and Susan were greeted by the Brussels police and were escorted to the station. They went over more of the details, most of which were already in the report and photographs that Dave had looked over. Husband killed wife at dinner table before himself, between 7pm and 7:30pm. Family had a routine and did not appear to have any issues. No gunshots were heard by neighbors. Phone records and financials pending. Dave rolled his eyes at the information. It seemed that the Brussels police were not as competent as he gave them credit for. They should have already had the financials and phone records before he and Susan even arrived.

This is going to take for-fucking-ever at this goddamn rate.

By the time they finished with the police it was well into the day, and Dave glanced at his watch. 6pm. They had been scouring the information from the Brussels police for hours, and Dave was getting a headache. As he and Susan exited the station, she turned to him.

“Fancy a bite to eat?” she asked. Dave shook his head.

“I think I’m going to call it a day and grab something at the hotel,” he replied, itching to be alone.

“Your loss. I was buying,” Susan spoke with a chuckle. Dave falsely smiled at her and let out a chuckle of his own.

“I have to check in with the girls.”

“No problem. I totally understand that.”

“Well then, I better head out. I’ll meet you at the hotel lobby tomorrow morning?”

“Sure thing. How’s 9am sound? The agency wants us to look into this for a couple days, but I don’t anticipate it taking longer than that,” Susan stated.

“Sounds good, Susan. You have a good rest of your night and I’ll see you tomorrow.” They parted ways, Susan walking down the street while Dave hailed a cab to take him back to the hotel, sending you a quick text.

Dave: I am headed to the hotel for the evening.

Your reply came shortly after.

You: The girls are eating lunch right now but want to call you. Can you Skype us when you get there? Dave: Of course. I will call you once I am settled.

The cab ride was only a few minutes and Dave looked forward to calling the three of you. My girls, he thought fondly. It had only been a day, but he knew that you all missed him, and he missed you all as well. He quickly made his way to his room and pulled out his laptop, starting it up while ordering some room service. The laptop booted up with a quiet beep and then he was greeted by his lock screen. It was a photo of the four of you. A rare photo that you had all taken together one day when you had insisted on going to the park. The girls had been ecstatic that day and roped Dave into taking a ‘family photo’. He had secretly made the photo his lock screen on his computer, wanted a piece of you with him when he was away. His computer chimed with a notification; it was an incoming Skype call from you. Dave swiftly answered and was greeted by the sight of you and the girls sitting at the dinner table.

“Daddy!” Molly and Alice cried with happiness as the saw him.

“Hi girls,” he greeted with a smile. They waved at him through the screen and he saw you behind them with a large grin on your face.

“Hi honey,” you greeted him with a little wave.

“Hi sweetheart,” he replied, and he saw the girls squeak at how you greeted each other. Dave rolled his eyes at them. “Are the girls behaving for you?”

“Yes,” they replied, and you shook your head in amusement.

“They’ve been two little angels,” you replied sarcastically as they looked at you with matching smiles on their faces. “Causing no trouble at all.”

“Mhmmm. Why is that hard to believe?” The girls pouted at him before the doorbell rang.

“Oh! That must be Mel. She’s picking the girls up to go play with her niece,” you informed him. Dave nodded as he watched you walk out of the frame.

“You girls better behave while I’m gone,” he spoke sternly. They nodded as you and Mel walked into the room.

“Girls, say bye to your daddy. It’s time to go.” Mel greeted Dave with a wave, and he waved back, waiting patiently for you to guide Molly and Alice quickly out the door.

“Bye, daddy!” they both said with a wave. Dave blew them a kiss before they left the frame, and he heard the front door shut. Now he had you to himself.

“So how is everything going?” you asked him as you took a seat at the dinner table, propping your hands under your chin.

“It’s going fine. Things should be taken care of in a few days.” he replied.

“That’s good to hear. Everything going alright with the investigation?”

“Just peachy.” You nodded your head. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” you questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Can you have Mel watch the girls for the next few days?” Your curiosity was piqued.

Why does he want the girls gone for a few days?

“Yeah, let me text her really quick and ask.” Dave watched as you pulled out your phone and typed out a quick text, hearing the whoosh of the message being sent.

“Care to tell me why I just inquired for her to watch the little demons for the rest of the week?” you probed. Dave let out a chuckle.

“There may or may not be a ticket for you to take a red-eye tonight,” he answered, watching in amusement as your eyes expanded.

“Wait, you want me to come join you?” Dave nodded. “But aren’t you busy with things?”

“Yeah, but I want you to be here. You better start packing, sweetheart,” he directed.  You shook your head in disbelief.

“You’re really flying me out there?” Dave let out a chuckle.

“Yes. Check your email.” He watched as you opened your phone to check the email and gasped. There sat a confirmation email for your flight, leaving at 10pm tonight, arrival at 2pm in Brussels.

“This is too much, Dave,” you said in shock, mind reeling from his efforts to get you there.

“I beg to differ,” he retorted. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” You nodded your head and stood up, picking up your laptop in the process. Dave watched as you made your way up the stairs and into the bedroom, setting the laptop down on the bed.

“So now that I have the house to myself, why don’t I show you just how much I miss you?” you cheekily asked, tugging at the hem of your shirt. Dave raised an eyebrow.

“Baby girl, you’re going to get it when you arrive if you keep this up.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” you answered defiantly. Dave watched as you pulled the shirt over your head and shook his head in amusement. The rest of his evening was spent doing some very wicked things over a video call.

—TWO DAYS LATER—

Once Dave had told you about the ticket to come see him you were brimming with excitement. It had only been two days at that point, but you missed him dearly. And other night’s events confirmed that he missed had you just as much. When you stepped off the plane and walked through the airport to baggage claim you had been greeted by a familiar face in the crowd. You had both spent the afternoon in the hotel room, hardly stopping except for food and a break here and there. That was two days ago. Today you were lounging on the couch reading The Magic Mountain, when Dave poked his head in.

“I’m going to meet Susan in a couple of hours, so why don’t you go shopping or treat yourself to the spa while I’m gone?” he suggested. You shrugged your shoulders at him.

“I guess I can do that. I was getting bored with you anyways,” you replied with a playful grin. Dave rolled his eyes and walked over to poke your ribs and give you a tender kiss before making his way out.

“Put that black card to use, woman!” he shouted from the doorway before shutting it.

“I suppose I’ll go shopping. At this point I have already done all the sightseeing I can do,” you spoke to yourself. You looked up some stores to go to in Brussels and was pleasantly surprised that there were so many. Most of them were boutiques and you decided to pin some of them on your map. You finished getting ready and pulled on your shoes, sauntering through the hotel and down the street to your first stop.

This is going to be an interesting day, you thought to yourself. Little did you know, it was going to be an extremely eventful one.

Susan was getting too close to discovering the truth regarding the deaths, and Dave was getting impatient with each passing day, waiting for his plan to unfold. They had gone back to the crime scene twice since they arrived and Susan still could not find anything, but she persisted. They had finally gotten the phone records, financials, and anything else that could possibly give them a clue to the mystery. After he left the room, he had gone to the hotel lounge to wait for Susan’s arrival. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was time to meet Susan in the hotel lobby. His phone buzzed with a message from Resnik as he waited for the elevator.

Resnik: Things are all set to go. They should be right on time. Dave: Good.

Dave put his phone away and spot spotted Susan in the lobby, about to get off the phone and walked up to her. Here we go.

“Yeah?” Susan asked as they began to walk to the elevator at the opposite side of where Dave had come down from.

“Hey. Calbert’s bank records are fine. Texts, emails. No marital discord. No girlfriends, no boyfriends, no loves. Not even one inappropriate message to a co-worker.”

“What about the wife?” Dave gave her a skeptical look. “Oh, come on, Dave. Women fuck around too.”

Don’t I know it.

“Think about it. When’s the last time you sent your wife flowers?”

“Noted. Noted,” Dave replied.

Not for a long time but fuck that whore.

Though maybe I should bring flowers back to the room after this.

Dave felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out.

Resnik: They are there now. Two backpackers in front of you.

“Data on Calbert’s hard drive just came in,” he said pretending to look at said information.

“We’ll talk about it on the plane. I wanna get out of here as soon as we can. Run some theories by Stan.” Dave typed out a quick message to Resnik.

Dave: Make sure we tie up the other loose end once this is done.

The elevator doors opened, and people began to pour in. They began to pour in, and Dave stopped to let the two backpackers in ahead of them.

“Alright. Watch,” he said as he let Susan in first after the backpackers.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur, pardon,” (Excuse me, sir, pardon me) Susan spoke as she squeezed her way in between the backpackers. “Merci.” (Thank you) Dave followed closely behind her and they both came to stand in the back. He kept an eye on the backpackers, one of them bouncing a ball, as the elevator doors close, which caused him a little irritation but did not let it show.

They better get this done fucking right.

They patiently stood and waited as each person got out of the elevator on their respective floors until only Susan, Dave, and the men remained. The elevator dinged once it arrived on Susan’s floor and she waited for the two men to exit before following.

“I’ll see you downstairs at six?” she asked him as he was looking down at his phone, checking the new message from Resnik.

Resnik: Things are all set to take care of the two of them once this is done. Kovac is keeping an eye on their place.

“You got it,” he replied without looking up.

“Oh, hey,” Susan paused and stopped the doors from closing, causing Dave to look up at her. She pointed her finger at him. “Or you’re not getting on the plane.” Dave clenched his jaw at her words.

You won’t live long enough to get on the plane, much less have some chocolate.

He looked down at his phone again to check your location and saw that you were still out and at a boutique on the other side of town.

“Guess I’m going back out,” he mumbled as he hit the button for the lobby, not intending to actually leave the building until the job was done.

He waited in the lobby for a few minutes before he exited the building. He then snuck around to the back of the hotel to a service elevator, making sure to stay out of sight of any cameras. Once he entered the elevator, he pulled a glove over his right hand and pressed the button for floor 16.

It should be just about done right now, he thought as he glanced at his watch. The elevator stopped and he made his way out and down the hall towards Susan’s room. The door was ajar, and he walked in, careful not to make any noise or leave any trace that he was there. He went through the hotel room until he spotted her by the bathroom, sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall, breathing heavily. Her hair was in disarray, blood ran down her face from a gash on her head and seeped down into her shirt. At the sound of his footsteps Susan looked up and saw him, relief flooding her face and she exhaled a deep breath. He stepped over her legs to crouch down beside her, and she reached out to him, comforted by his presence. She was saved. Or so she thought.

“Did you get the chocolate?” she managed to mutter out through the pain. “Oh fuck.”

Dave grasped her hand and placed it on his knee as he pushed some hair from her face and neck, letting her continue to think that he was there as a friend. Her head rocked back and forth, her eyes closed, as she struggled to breath and he gently moved her face to look at him. He then lifted his hand away from her chin and clasped it over her mouth tightly, pulling a knife out of his pocket. Susan, eyes still closed, head still foggy from her wound, was unsure of what was happening. What event was about to transpire until it was too late. She felt a weight over her mouth and realized that Dave had covered it, so she opened her eyes in confusion and let out a muffled scream as Dave skillfully, and without hesitation, drove the knife between her ribs and straight into her heart. The knife easily punctured the beating muscle, and Dave, pressing his forehead against hers, watched as she heaved out her final breath, her body falling limp within seconds.

Goodbye, Susan.

He withdrew the knife and stood from his crouched position, wiping the blade clean with a cloth before pocketing both items. He would dispose of them later once he was nowhere near the hotel. He stepped over Susan’s lifeless body and walked out of the hotel room, retracing his footsteps until he reached the service elevator, quickly reaching the ground floor and exiting the hotel. He stepped foot on the street and reached for his phone, checking your location once more. You had moved to a different boutique and he gathered that you would not be back for some time. Dave thought for a moment, pondering what to do while you were off shopping, finally coming to a decision. He swiped over to the map app on his phone and looked for a specific store, seeing that it was about ten minutes away from him via cab. He memorized the address and hailed a taxi.

“Waterloo Boulevard 66,” he quickly stated to the driver. The man nodded before pulling away from the curb and navigated through the streets expertly.  Dave drummed his fingers on his leg as they drew closer and closer to the destination, and he thought about his future purchase.

What size?

What type of metal?

What shape?

He wanted it to be something that you would really love and take your breath away, and he was willing to drop any amount of money to achieve that goal. Once the taxi arrived, he paid the driver and slowly walked inside, an associate warmly greeting him. Dave already had an idea of what it was that he would was going to get, but he wanted to be sure before making the purchase. He spent almost an hour at the store, mulling over all the different choices, asking questions about different styles and what made each one unique, before finally settling on one particularly beautiful piece. He made the purchase without hesitation and soon waltzed out of the store, pocketing it away for safe keeping while throwing the knife and cloth into the trash outside the door.

Now to keep this thing hidden away from her.

After Dave had left you decided to get up and get dressed to go out. The black card Dave had referred to was burning a hole in your purse and you decided to follow his directions and put it to some use. After all, when in Brussels. You had been feeling a little weird all day but paid it no mind. Once you got dressed you slipped on your shoes and slung your purse over your shoulder, making your way down to the lobby. Once there you strode through until you walked outside into the sunshine. You took a deep breath, enjoying the European air. You looked up the nearest luxury boutiques near you saw that there were some about fifteen minutes away by foot. You decided to take the little stroll there instead of hailing a cab, so you turned and began your journey.

Thank god I wore comfortable shoes.

After about fifteen minutes you finally arrived at your first stop. A quaint little clothing store. You walked inside and looked around, finding some dresses and pants that were your style. A store associate helped you try each of the items on and you made your selections from there. You nearly had a heart attack when the employee informed you of the total.

It’s Dave’s money.

He told me to spend it.

More like commanded me to but whatever.

You handed her the card and internally scolded yourself for such a large purchase.

Next, you meandered down passing a few stores before one caught your eye and you found yourself walking inside yet another clothing shop. Upon entry, you were greeted with a cozy environment and a woman came to greet you. Again, you made your way through the store and picked out some blouses that caught your eyes and tried them on. The total this time was not as much as the first purchase but was still quite a bit. Your third stop was at a shoe store this time, knowing that an outfit would not be complete without the proper footwear. Some heels caught your eyes and a few pairs of flats, and the saleswoman gladly found the shoes in your size before you pulled the trigger on your purchase. The shoes cost almost as much as the clothing at the first store, but then again you had bought four different pairs of shoes that were high end brands.

By now you had three large bags dangling from yours arms and you decided that you needed a break and some food. You felt your stomach turn over and spotted a café across the street. You quickly crossed the street and grabbed a table, quickly being greeted by a server. You politely gave them your order, having decided on a charcuterie board and an espresso to quell your appetite. You pulled out your phone and began to browse through your social media and sent a quick text to Mel asking her how the girls were doing. She promptly replied with a photo of Alice and Molly sitting with her niece, Emma, watching Frozen on the television in front of them. You chuckled and shook your head, sending her a reply to thanking her for watching the girls.

I need to get her a thank you gift, you mentally noted.

Your food arrived shortly after and it looked absolutely divine but had a slightly putrid smell.

Maybe it’s just some weird meat or the cheese, some of it doesn’t look familiar.

You picked up a slice of meat and sank your mouth into it, hunger outweighing the strange smells that swirled through your nose.

Oh no.

You squeezed your eyes shut and brought your napkin up to your mouth and feigned a cough, spitting the food into it. It took everything in you to hold back a visible gag and your stomach churned. You hastily got up and flagged down a server, asking where the lavatory was before nearly sprinting to it. Once inside you shut yourself into a stall and knelt over the toilet, unleashing the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. After a moment, your stomach had finally calmed down enough for you to stand up and wipe your mouth of the bile that had stuck to the sides of your lips. You felt another wave of nausea wash over you and you lurched forward, clutching the sides of the seat, as another rush of half-digested food was expelled from your mouth. After a minute, you found yourself dry heaving over the toilet, tears streaming down your face.

What is wrong with me?

You began to think back to the last few days and how you had been feeling. Today you had been experiencing a little queasiness but shrugged it off as the fish you had the night before for dinner. However, the reaction you had from the charcuterie board was what made your head spin. You had eaten charcuterie many times in the past, but you never had an issue with the smell that had wafted into your nose, and most certainly had never vomited from the mere taste. Your eyes widened at the realization of what it could be. Your breasts had been feeling quite tender the last two nights, but you had guessed that it was just from Dave’s treatment of them since your arrival.

You started piecing the clues together and gasped, hand flying over your mouth when it dawned on you. You swiftly exited the stall and rushed to the sink, holding onto the countertop as you looked at yourself in the mirror, breathing heavily at your thoughts. You managed to calm yourself after taking some deep breaths and made a beeline for the exit. You were in such a hurry that you nearly forgot your bags and to pay for your barely touched food. You speedily threw some bills down onto the table and grabbed your bags, quickly hailing a cab.

“The nearest pharmacy please,” you requested, throwing yourself into the back seat and tried not to start hyperventilating again. The cab driver drove down two blocks and stopped in front of a pharmacy, the large green cross staring you in the face.

“Could you please wait here?” you politely asked, and the driver nodded. You sprinted into the store and dashed down each aisle until you found the one you were looking for. Wanting to be completely thorough, you grabbed one of each box and ran to the counter, almost throwing them at the attendant. She looked at you with terrified eyes seeing your ghostly pale face full of panic. She quickly rang you up and you handed her some cash, not wanting the transaction to show on Dave’s card statement.

Oh fuck.

Dave.

Anxiety crept through you once again at the thought of how you were going to tell him if the results were what you assumed them to be. The girl handed you the bag and you charged back outside and hurled yourself back into the cab, telling the man to take you to the Hotel Manos Premier, and to get there as fast as possible. Upon arrival you speedily grabbed your bags and hastily ran up to the hotel room.

Thank fucking god it is on the second floor.

You hoped and prayed that Dave would not be there, but your prayers were not answered. As you flung open the door, you were greeted by the sight of him seated by the window, glass of whiskey in his hand. At the commotion, he spun around to face you and raised an eyebrow at the state of chaos you were currently in.

“Hi honey,” you heaved out, sucking in a deep breath as you dropped your bags and walked over to him, trying to calm your nerves.

I am so fucking glad I put the stuff in the bigger bag.

Fuck.

“Hello, darling. Are you alright?” he questioned as he closed the gap between you and pulled you into a kiss. Once you broke away you nodded and nervously smiled at him.

“Of course. Nothing to worry about. Sorry, I just really have to use the bathroom,” you replied, pulling away from him and turning to pick up your bags, trying not to arouse suspicion.

“Do you want any help with that?” he offered, gesturing to your bags. You frantically shook your head.

“I got it!”

“If you say so.” As you exited the room, you abruptly stopped and took a step back, poking your head around the corner to look at Dave.

“Oh, I forgot to ask, how did your meeting with Susan go?” You saw Dave clench his jaw and shrug.

“It was fine. I’m finished up with things here, and I have a flight set to go back in a few hours,” he answered. His behavior felt a little off. You were not sure what it was, but you had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, and it wasn’t the nausea this time. You quirked an eyebrow at him and narrowed your eyes.

“So, the investigation is over?”

“More or less. I booked a separate flight for you that leaves around the same time as mine. The agency doesn't need to know that I flew you out here.”

“I suppose I can understand that. I guess that's fine. I do miss the girls, and all this traveling is getting to me.” Dave nodded understandingly and took a sip of his whiskey.

“We have a few more hours before we have to go, but you should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright,” you answered. “I’ll be back in a jiffy; I really have to pee.” He let out a chuckle as you rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you, making sure to lock it. You threw the bags onto the ground, pulling out the undesired products and savagely ripped the packaging apart. You pulled down your pants and proceeded to do your business, making sure the tips were meticulously covered in your bodily fluids.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You repeated the same action to the other three sticks and capped them all, placing them on the counter. You set a timer for three minutes on your phone and paced the bathroom. This was the longest three minutes of your life. The three minutes crawled by and you were snapped out of your thoughts with the buzzing of the timer. You timidly walked over to the counter and looked at all four sticks. You nearly collapsed at the sight that greeted you.

On each and every stick, two hauntingly pink lines stared right back at you.

Oh my god.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[swiftiesimonriley]

hurts like heaven (divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader)

divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader, silver linings playbook! au

rating: teen (I guess), no explicit content except for drug use

warnings: depictions and descriptions of drug use (if this makes you uncomfortable you may want to skip this one), mentions of divorce and custody battles, mention of time spent in an inpatient behavioral health setting

word count: 3.9k (WHOOPS i got excited)

a/n: I am so excited for my first frankie oneshot!! thank you so much to @hailmary-yramliah​ for this request, I hope you like it!! here is my masterlist, and if you have any requests you can send me an ask! also credit to @hunterschafer​ for the beautiful frankie gif!!

"Mr. Morales, after a thorough review of the details of this case, including but not limited to testimonies of your close friends and NA sponsor, revision of your record, and speaking with the judge who oversaw the suspension of your pilot's license, I have come to the conclusion that you are currently unfit to have full custody of your daughter. I am hereby granting full custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales to her biological mother."

The minute Francisco Morales hears the words of the family court judge before him ruling in favor of his now ex-wife, he nearly passes out.

The former Delta Force soldier vaguely heard the protests of Pope, who is the only person sitting within the rows of seats on the side of the courtroom where he currently resides. He doesn't register his lawyer uttering a half-assed apology or even the cheers from his ex-wife and her family on the other side of the room.

All he hears is white noise as the judge bangs the gavel to settle the room, explaining that Ava now will have primary and sole custody and that Frankie will only be allowed supervised visits with a social worker, and that Ava can take her daughter home today.

Their daughter.

Frankie knows he isn't perfect - fuck, he is far from it but this just seems like a sick joke.

As soon as his license was officially stripped from him, he knew his marriage was over. The tension had started almost a year earlier when Ava suspected Frankie of using, to which he vehemently denied.

Of course, it was true, but how was he supposed to explain and admit to the love of his life that he needed the cocaine flowing through his body in order to feel anything anymore.

Things began to crumble soon after the initial suspicion by Ava. 

The best way Frankie thought to deal with this problem was to put some space between himself and his wife. He didn't want her to see him when he was strung out and begging for one last hit - God forbid his daughter see him like that.

In a way, Frankie was grateful that Ellie was still an infant, and that she would have no memory of the fights he had with her mother over his addiction.

He began staying out late at bars and other places downtown where he knew he could meet his dealer and get more of his fix, trying to keep it as far away from his home as possible. 

After a few drinks and a successful meeting with his dealer, he would make his way home where he eventually came down, the immediate rush of guilt and sorrow filling his heart as he would return home and see the bedroom door was locked, indicating he had to crash on the couch.

It was when he stepped through the threshold of his small cottage that he felt the shame bubble up from deep inside him, knowing that he couldn't just snuggle up next to his wife and pretend things were fine, or even cradle his daughter in his arms and rock her to sleep, as on these nights Ava made sure to keep Ellie in the bedroom with her. 

Those were the nights that haunted him the most.

Breaking Ava's heart was something long in the past - and he knew she wouldn't be able to just forgive him for what he put her through. She was always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt - something he used to tease her about but now feels scorned by. She was the one who stood by him when he admitted he had a problem - giving him support and resources for healing all while lending a helping hand. 

She knew he wouldn't try to harm their relationship on purpose.

But when his use began to impede more on their relationship, Ava put her foot down. She was getting tired of the cycle of hurt that came with each band of withdrawal and promises of this being the "last" time, only to see her husband relapse again and again. She tried her hardest to continue supporting him, her high school sweetheart, but she had reached her limit. She started spending more time with her parents, leaving Ellie in their care for most days so she didn't have to see her father stumble through the door after a night out. 

Two weeks later she served him with the divorce papers.

Frankie knows that he fucked up, be he never meant to harm Ava or Ellie along the way, especially his baby daughter, whose brown eyes were almost carbon copies of his own. He can't even stomach the idea of Eleanor growing up without her father in her life - she is his whole world, and since the day she was born he promised her that he would always be there for her.

But now, his heart aches knowing he is going home to a semi-furnished one-bedroom apartment, no wife or daughter waiting up for him like when he returned from missions or deployment.

Francisco Morales was not one to take the easy way out.

He clutches his patient belongings bag tighly in his right hand as he walks out of the lobby of the inpatient rehabilitation center, scanning the outside pickup area for a familiar truck. After looking around for a moment a truck horn beep startles him, turning to see a familiar mop of black hair peeking out of his truck.

Chuckling to himself, Frankie jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, feeling Pope immediately wrap him tightly in a hug. "I missed you Cat," he murmurs into the pilot's shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before releasing the brown-haired man from his arms.

"I missed you too Santi," Frankie sighs, placing his bag down on the floor at his feet, "I don't know how much longer I could stay there without seeing a familiar face."

Santi lets out a low laugh as he starts up the truck and pulls out of the patient drop-off area before turning onto the main road. The two sit in silence for a few moments as Frankie stretches out his limbs, turning his head to look out the window as they drive down through the city.

The black haired man knows better than to pry and quiz the pilot about his 2 month stay at the local inpatient rehabilitation center. After the fallout of the trial, things got rough really fast. Santi knew deep down there was a chance of relapse, even with Frankie left the courtroom promising that this would never happen again - but it was all too much.

At 3:11 am Santi got a call from Frankie.

By 6:30 the pair were at the very same doors that Frankie had just emerged, with Santi comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down the brunette's back and they waited to check him in and head over to intake.

But Santi doesn't pry.

He just drums a tune on the steering wheel as he continues driving down the main stretch of road in the city. He watches out of the corner of his eye as they get to a red light as Frankie fixes his hair, running his fingers through the brown fringe across his forehead and he lets out a chuckle.

"What's so funny Pope? I don't wanna look like I'm fresh out of the hospital." He huffs, looking over his hair again before closing the mirror.

To say Frankie was nervous was an understatement. He had been out of the hospital for less than ten minutes and he was already on his way to meet a new lawyer. His new lawyer.

The previous week Frankie received a call from Santi during his afternoon rec time. At first he couldn't make out what the other man was saying, he remembers huffing out something the lines of "are you fucking drunk?" but made sure to keep quiet as he knew some people in the rec area didn't take too kindly to brash language.

He then remembers the hearty chuckle on the other end. "No I'm not fucking drunk 'fish, I'm excited! I just ran into one of my old college buddies-"

"Do you mean fuck buddies?" Frankie teases, letting out a quiet laugh as he hears a scoff on the other end of the line.

"No you idiot! I didn't sleep with every girl I knew back then, I know it's hard to believe," Frankie lets out a loud laugh, "I ran into an old friend of mine who went to law school, and let's just say she owes me a favor and she agreed to take on your case! Fish? Frankie?"

The pilot drops the phone as soon as the words are processed.

He has another chance. Another chance to see Ava and his baby girl. A chance to get them both back into his life for good this time, now that he has detoxed and spent his time working on his coping strategies.

They could be back in his arms once again.

"Mr. Morales? Mr. Garcia? She's ready for you."

"It's go time." Santi nods, standing up out of his seat and motioning for the pilot to follow him.

The pair make their way down the white and bright hallways of the law offices, walking past several cubicles full of lawyers and other workers chatting away before coming to an office with a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Frankie nervously plays with his fingers as Santi knocks on the door, hearing a soft "come in" from the otherside.

He follows the black haired man into the office and freezes in his tracks when he sees you get up from your desk and rush to pull Santi into a hug. He tries to keep his eyes from widening like a cartoon character but he can't help it - Santi didn't mention how gorgeous you are.

He listens to you both talk for a few moments before you reach your hand out and introduce yourself, a light smile playing at your lips. Frankie nods and takes your smaller hand in his before watching you go back to your desk. You open your laptop and pull out the file your assistant gathered on the details of the previous case.

"Mr. Mora-"

"You can call me Frankie," the pilot interjects, his cheeks turning red as you nod and take a mental note of that. "Frankie, do you want to start off at the start of your story for me? I always find it more beneficial to ask from the client's perspective about the details of the case, it makes a stronger case," you say, picking up a pen and looking at the brunette sitting across from you.

Frankie lets out a small cough and takes a soft breath in before laying his cards out on the table.

Santi stays quiet in the seat next to him, nodding along at the details of the story and offering a comforting hand on the back as one of his closest friends speaks about some of the darkest points in his life with you as if you have known him as long as you have known him.

It takes about 45 minutes of Frankie's explanations and your questioning to get all of the information you need for the initial meeting, making notes of the progress the pilot has made within the inpatient treatment center as well as Santi's testimony. You put your files away in the folder on your desk and stand up, making your way over to the two soldiers and giving them each a handshake, telling them both that you feel extremely confident in this case, and that you can't wait to help Frankie get his family back.

You can't miss the way he breaks out into a grin, probably one of the first genuine ones in a while, and you see Santi nod his head approvingly at you before giving you a quick "thanks" as the two begin to stand up and walk towards your door. 

Before they leave you quickly call out to Frankie, who turns around quickly and his chocolate brown eyes lock with yours.

"What's your daughter's name?" You ask softly, watching as his posture relaxes at the mention of his pride and joy. He reaches into one of his back pockets of his jeans and pulls out a small photo from his wallet and hands it to you.

You look over the tiny photo - it must have been from the day she was born. Her big brown eyes are the same as her father's, a small smile on her face.

"Her name is Eleanor, Eleanor Luciana," he smiles, a small tear welling up in the corner of his right eye.

A smile plays at your lips as you see the absolute adoration in his eyes as he talks about her.

You know you have to win this case.

You spend the next 3 months prepping for the case.

You know this process is not an easy one, especially for Frankie. At first, he came to your office twice a week in the afternoon right after his NA meetings, most times with Santi in tow. It was awkward at first for sure - I mean it isn't fun working with a lawyer about the bad choices he had made or the fact of the matter that he feels like a piece of him has died since he has been away from his family.

Santi helped ease the tension.

When it got hard for Frankie to talk about some of the details of his drug use, or the fights he had with Ava, Santi was there to help ease the conversation and help Frankie get through it. It helped that the two knew each other like the back of their hands, with Santi being able to crack a joke at a moment's notice and bring the pilot back down to the ground.

It was when Santi brought up old memories of your time back in college that you heard real laughter from the brunette.

They weren't your proudest memories, but the way that Frankie laughed at you and Santi's old college stories brought a smile to your face and gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you didn't want to go away. You knew deep down you shouldn't feel those butterflies, especially when dealing with a client, but something about the pilot made your heart flutter.

But the minute you would feel the butterflies, like after Frankie gave you a compliment about your outfit, you would feel the guilt wash over you in waves. Frankie was a father, a former husband who was working with you in order to win back his ex. How could you feel this way about a man who was fighting through hell to get his family back.

You were just his lawyer.

Seeing him open up each time he came into your office was something that struck you deep down, knowing that being this vulnerable is something that he doesn't take lightly. 

The two of you continue meeting twice a week after NA, with Frankie telling you about his feelings from his meeting and talking about his goals for this upcoming trial.

You continue preparing him with questions you know will be brought up by the family court judge, focusing on his plans for the future after his discharge from the inpatient center, focusing on the changes in behavior he has made of the past few months. His answers become more confident the harder you work, and you feel your heart start to swell as he talks about how excited he is to see his baby girl again.

But you also feel pain in your heart at the thought of the man before you leaving your life after this week.

It's the Friday night before the trial, a night you typically take off early on, but tonight is different.

Frankie was sitting here in your office earlier this week when he casually mentioned that he was getting his 6 month sober chip on Friday. Upon hearing this news you gasp and stand up from your desk, your feet carrying you over towards him before you could even register what you are doing - suddenly you realize that you have pulled him into your arms.

Frankie is shocked at first, a small "oof" escaping his lips as you held onto him, but he is grateful you cannot see the blush rising on his cheeks.

You quickly pull yourself back and subconsciously smoothing out your light green work pants before taking a step back. "I'm so proud of you 'Cat, that's so amazing!" You smile, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear.

The pilot nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"How about you come here on friday. You, me and Santi can have some pizza and a beer to celebrate," you suggest, watching as Frankie furrows his brow before letting out a chuckle.

"You don't ask all of your clients to have a pizza party in your office after hours do you?" He laughs, taking his hat off and fixing his brown locks before sliding it back on his head.

"I can't say that I do, but this is what Santi and I would do back in the day to celebrate, so why not celebrate this achievement before we get in the courtroom." 

You chuckle, remembering the days spent in the shitty apartment Santi had off campus. "Alright I'm in." Frankie smiles, "I'll bring the beers."

That night the three of you sit on the floor of your office like kids and chuckle at old stories, both from college and from the boy's times spent overseas. You watch as Frankie laughs at something Santi says and you feel the pain in your heart return, knowing that in a few short days your client would be back to his old life, and you would be stuck here back in the real world at your job. You know it's wrong, but these past months have been different than any other case you have taken on.

You know Frankie is going to be able to go back to his family after all of this - he is stronger than when this whole ordeal started and he has the support to prevent another relapse. 

Hell, you are proud of him outside of work, knowing this process wasn't easy - but the idea of this man walking out of your life brings you sadness. Knowing he won't be in your office twice a week for hours, cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular towards the end. 

Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if you met under other circumstances. Maybe you two would have a shot - walking hand in hand at the local farmer's market, singing karaoke at the bar with Santi, Benny and Will, or even going on a flight with him.

You even opened up to him, telling him things even Santi doesn't know. But you need to remember why you are here - to win this for your client.

"Mr. Morales, after going over the details of this case, I see the dedication you have made towards your rehabilitation and future. I have talked with the treatment team at Maple Grove rehabilitation as well as your NA sponsor, and based on all of the information I have gathered is that you are fit to have custody of your daughter. You will now have shared custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales."

Before you can properly process the words of the judge, you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso and lift you in the air. You feel a blush come over your cheeks as you hear Frankie saying "thank you" over and over again as he sets you back down on the ground.

You both simultaneously pull back and hide your blushes as you thank the judge for his discretion and you faintly hear the bang of the gavel in the background as the court is dismissed.

You don't miss the way Ava storms out of the courtroom with her family and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Santi walks over to the two of you and pulls you both into a hug, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down your back and thanking you for everything you did.

You nod as Santi pulls back and turns to his brother in arms, chatting about something you can't quite hear as you begin to pack up your white briefcase, pausing when you see a photo of Ellie on the table.

Since the beginning of the trial Frankie felt the nerves wash over him as this suddenly felt so real. You had suggested that he bring in a picture of Eleanor to place on the table so that whenever he became nervous, he could look down and see who he was doing this all for. Seeing the photo now brings tears to the corners of your eyes and you close up your briefcase - turning around to see that Santi has left the courtroom, just leaving you and Frankie.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything," he says softly, nervously scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You nod curtly, trying to ignore the sore feeling in your throat - a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Frankie tilts his head in confusion and walks closer, reaching out and grabbing your smaller hands in his. "I mean it - you have helped me through this whole process, and you are the reason I get to see Eleanor again, and for that I cannot thank you enough."

His words cut through you like knives - you knew this was coming. Your job is over, and it's time for him to move on.

"All in a day's work," you chuckle quietly, having to look down at your shoes to avoid letting the tears fall.

You suddenly feel softy fingers tilt your head up. Blinking through your lashes you see the pilot looking at you with only adoration in his eyes. You lock onto his chocolate orbs and nod slightly as he moves closer, softly crashing your lips against his.

You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling him flush against his chest in a soft yet comforting way. You find yourself getting lost in the moment, one of your hands tangling in his hair as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A moment later you both pull away, leaning your forehead against his as he lets out a small chuckle.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he smiles, locking eyes with you once again, "I had to wait until I wasn't your client anymore, I didn't want to make it awkward or unethical."

You smile at his confession, brushing a piece of his brunette locks out of his eyes.

"Well now that you are no longer my client, would you like to go grab a beer?" You ask, looking at the way his eyes light up at your question.

"I would love that."

He watches as you grab your briefcase and wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you head for the courtroom doors.

He feels his heart swell in his chest knowing he not only has Eleanor back in his life, but now he has you too.

taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @babyprim​ @shadowolf993​ @jasterslegacy​ @collectorofexperiences​

[missymurphy1985]

Bella Italia (part 3)

Warnings - smut / cheating

Featuring Jim from the Delinquent Season

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers

You sat in the cafe, latte in hand. A small secluded booth at the back, as requested by Jim when he'd texted you that morning. Your phone beeped.

"Can't meet you there, my sister's sat two tables away from you. I'm in the car outside." You rolled your eyes - this was ridiculous, but you still found yourself heading out and jumping in his car.

"I'm already a dirty little secret Jim?" You sighed, putting your seatbelt on. He was fiddling with his phone, before turning the ignition and driving you both down the road.

Pulling up outside a small B&B on the outskirts of Dublin, he turned to you.

"I know how this looks, but I just want to talk, okay?"

"You have one hour Jim, and I'm out of here."

Sat on the chair in the small hotel room, Jim stood by the window looking out at the view. He took a breath and moved to sit on the bed.

"I got a call after I left you in the janitor's cupboard. My son was sick.. really sick.. I needed to get home. I booked the next flight out."

"And you couldn't tell me this at the time because?"

"I wasn't exactly thinking straight y/n.."

"Fair enough..."

"They found a mass in his stomach. It was benign, thank god, but terrifying."

"Jesus, Jim I'm sorry..."

"It all happened so quickly, I didn't know what to do! Once it had been removed and he was better, I planned to file for divorce properly, but she's.. she's nuts y/n okay? She's a complete fruit loop. I can't leave my son with her, I just can't.." his eyes were watering and he walked over to the window again. You joined him this time and pulled him close. He wrapped his arms around you and breathed deeply. After a few minutes, you pulled away, catching yourself before you did something you'd regret. He caught your hand as you did and you looked at each other for a few moments before he pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours gently. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you couldn't pull away this time, the kiss quickly becoming heated as he backed you over to the bed.

Once your knees hit the mattress, he kept you upright as his hands moved under your T shirt, over your back and across your bra covered breasts.

"We shouldn't be doing this Jim..."

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop.."

"I can't tell you to stop..." you pulled his t shirt over his head and ran your nails down his chest, over his toned stomach and played with the buckle on his jeans. Your desire for him overtaking any rational thoughts. Unfastening the buckle, you turned him round to sit on the bed, pulling his jeans and boxer shorts down as you did. Kneeling between his legs you licked a trail up his shaft, his hands in your hair pulling gently. Sinking your mouth over him, you set a steady rhythm, your hand over what you couldn't reach, his groans above you sending shockwaves through your core.

"Fuck... That feels so good..." His eyes never left your face, his mouth hanging open slightly as you took him further down your throat, your nails scraping over the inside of his thighs. He tapped your chin gently to stop you, his breathing deepening and you could feel he was close. You stood, pulling your clothes off as he watched you, eyes over every inch of your bare body. His fingers traced over the new tattoo on your upper thigh, before moving over to your mound, brushing lightly over it as you took his hand away, easing into his lap.

"I never got to ride you in Italy..." You almost purred in his ear as he bucked his hips up to meet yours.

"There was a lot of things we didn't do in Italy..." You sank onto his length easily, his hands on your backside as he lifted you up and down his shaft, both of you gasping into each others ears. You leaned him back on his arms and moved your hips, taking full control. Bringing a hand down to rub your clit as you bounced on him, riding him harder, three years of pent up feelings and desires completely taking over now.

"Shit... I'm so fucking close Jim..." His cock hitting your G spot with each thrust as he leaned back and watched you bounce on him. His eyes on your fingers rubbing your clit, he was groaning your name over and over. Your head flew back as you came hard, his eyes scrunched together trying to hold his own climax back but it was impossible. He grabbed your hips and moved your faster on him.

"I'm gonna come y/n... Fuck..." His back arched slightly as he came, eyes scrunched up and groaning, panting as his release subsided. Your bodies falling together onto the bed and under the covers.

A silence followed as you simply looked into each others eyes, both of you knowing this was wrong but powerless to stop it. His lips met yours again, softly, as his thumb brushed your cheek.

"I have the divorce papers ready to serve y/n.. I have for months. I'm just waiting for the right time to do it."

"You said she was nuts Jim.. how 'nuts' are we talking here?"

"She - she hasn't been the same since Jack was sick y/n. Flies off the handle at the slightest thing... I wasn't gonna bring her to your party last night, but she didn't give me an option. I either took her or - " he paused, a nervous frown on his face.

"Or what?"

"She just didn't give me a choice in it." You felt confused by the whole situation, if things were that bad why didn't he just go?

You shared one more kiss before you both redressed and headed back to the city centre. Another stolen kiss in the car before you headed to the bus stop - you couldn't risk him dropping you home in case your parents were home.

You didn't hear off him that night, but then you didn't expect to. All you could feel was this weird combination of lust and shame.

He's a married man.

But he's leaving her?

He has a son.

But he's leaving her?

She's a nutcase.

How much of a nutcase?

How could you have allowed yourself to fall into bed with him so easily? Again? This was insane...

The following morning you woke to a text and your heart lurched, an instant sick feeling.

"She knows."

[sunmoonandeddie]

marriage story

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5,641

summary: Fake marrying Bucky was only supposed to be a means to an end.

prompt: college au, fake marriage au, and enemies to lovers

warnings: swearing, talk of past sexual abuse

a/n: This was written for @broadwayandnetflix​ for @bucky-smiles​‘s Secret Santa!  SURPRISE!!!!  I’m so sorry I’m a day late, I just wanted to make sure it was as good as I could make it!!  I really hope you enjoy!!!

You weren’t sure how you ended up staring at divorce papers.

Hell, you’d just graduated college three weeks ago and had miraculously landed your first job that was conducive to your career.

And now, you were a divorcée at the age of twenty-one.

Granted, your marriage had lasted much longer than a lot of those that happened when the two people were teenagers.

It had also been fake, but that’s beside the point.

You read over the divorce papers for the eightieth time since they’d arrived.  Both of you took your individual things, no need for lawyers…

It had all seemed so simple when it first began.  A means to an end.

You were eighteen and stupid.  Desperate.  You had no idea what the consequences would be.

You had no idea that you’d actually fall in love with your husband.

He’d needed to live off campus since he couldn’t afford the on campus housing.  At a minimum of seven thousand dollars a school year, it was ridiculous.  You couldn’t really afford it either, but the school had a rule that you couldn’t live off campus until your junior year, and the two of you were still second semester freshmen.

Then there was the issue with your FAFSA.  You weren’t exactly on good terms with your parents.  And by not on good terms, you meant that you didn’t speak to them.  At all.  Getting their tax information wasn’t going to happen, and it wasn’t like they were helping you pay for college.

But FAFSA wouldn’t let you fill it out as an independent student until you were twenty-one.  Apparently, being cut off from your parents wasn’t enough of a ‘special circumstance’ to allow it.

But, there was one little thing that could fix all that.

Matrimony.

If you were married, you’d have to file independently.  No questions asked about parents.

And the university would allow you to live off campus, too.

It was a perfect solution.  A quick little trip to the courthouse.

Living together had seemed logical.  A little two bedroom apartment was much cheaper than seven thousand dollars for nine months in a dorm room you had to share.

Plus, you had to keep up the illusion to the school and the government that you were married.

Outside of living together though, there wasn’t much needed.  Each of you wore a fake ring when you went to your meetings with your advisor and your classes.  It kept the rabid frat boys away from you, at least.

And then there were the scholarships.  Turns out, there are scholarships specifically for married college kids, and your advisor thought you were just perfect for it because she’d never met such a wonderful couple.

It was all perfect.  Until it wasn’t.

First off, you and Bucky didn’t even really like each other when all of this started.  You only knew each other because you were best friends with Natasha, who was his best friend’s girlfriend.  It had actually been the two of them that had gotten the idea in the first place.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why we gathered you here today,” Steve said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Steve, this is my room.”

This was not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night.  You’d worked a double that day, from eight in the morning to ten that night.

The perks of working at a bar that did Mimosa Mornings on the weekends.  The worst part was that you weren’t even allowed to take a shot or two to help you get through it since you were eighteen.

Stupid fucking law.  If you could work in a bar, you should be able to drink to deal with the customers.  Because fuck, they’re horrible.

But you made more than you’d be making at Buffalo Wild Wings, that’s for sure.

“Can we just get whatever this is over with?” Bucky asked from across the room.  He definitely wasn’t keen to be stuck in a room with you for any longer than necessary.  “I have work in the morning.”

“Same here,” you added, narrowing your eyes at the two who sat in front of you.

Natasha was your best friend and your roommate, but fuck were you ready to put out a ‘New Friends Wanted’ sign.  You could take applications.

Requirement number one: Must not be dating the best friend of the most annoying prick in the world AKA Bucky Barnes.

Requirement number two: Must not be waiting to ambush you in your own dorm room with said prick.

“So, both of you are having issues with the university,” Nat said as she took out a bunch of papers.  “The dorms are crazy expensive and you’re not allowed to live off campus.  Also, FAFSA is ridiculous.”

“And we have a solution,” Steve said, a grin on his face.  He was such a giver.  He loved his friends more than anything in the world and would literally give anything for them.  Seriously.  You’d once watched him actually give the shirt off his back to Bucky when the latter had gotten drunk at a party and puked all over his.

He’d also gotten it on your shoes, and Bucky had just burped and said, “They look better now.”

The disgusting asshole.

“Well, spit it out,” you said, rubbing your temples.  You were still in your uniform, a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top.  Your hair smelled like cigarette smoke and someone’s beer that they spilled on you.  “I’d like to go to sleep before sunrise, please.”

“You two could get married.”

Both you and Bucky stared at them like they’d grown two heads.

“I’m sorry…  What the fuck did you just say?” You asked, standing up.

Natasha rushed to continue, still grinning.  “If you two get married, the university will let you live off campus, and FAFSA will let you file as independent!”

“And it’s cheap!  A marriage license only costs like… fifty bucks?  Something like that!” Steve said.

Well…  It wasn’t… a horrible idea, even if you and Bucky might end up killing each other before then.

“I don’t know...,” you said, the whole idea making you nervous.  Marriage?  Come on.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  “I really don’t want to be married to her.  We’d kill each other before we hit our six month anniversary,” he mocked, shooting a glare your way.

“It would only be until you graduate!” Natasha said.  “And then, you two get divorced and it becomes a funny story to tell at parties!”

You shared a look across the room with the brunette.  It would solve your problems…

“Fine.”

Turns out, getting married was a lot easier than you thought it would be.  All four of you went to the courthouse that next Tuesday when all of you had a break in between classes.

You wore a sweatshirt and leggings, your ratty sneakers that were covered in mud along the bottom.  Bucky wore jeans and a university hoodie.

Not exactly usual wedding attire.

Natasha, ever the optimist ever since she met Steve, had shoved a daisy she’d picked in your hair.

And an hour later, you’d walked out as Mrs. Barnes.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stood up from the couch and walked around the little place you’d called home since you were eighteen.

It had been quiet the first few months.  You signed a lease on an apartment a few blocks from campus and had moved in right at the end of the school year, but he went home with Steve to Brooklyn, New York.

You were alone the entire summer except for the few weekends that Natasha managed to come visit.  The only time you and Bucky spoke was when he texted you to let you know when he was moving in.

And that’s when the fighting had started.

As you stared at a picture of the two of you on the wall, you couldn’t help but laugh.  In the photo, you two were sitting on the couch, holding a cake that Natasha and Steve had gotten you as a joke.  HAPPY 2ND ANNIVERSARY! was written across it in bright blue icing.

It was a far cry from when you two had first moved in.  Everything was an issue.  You didn’t do this, he did that, the both of you wanted to watch different movies and he had brought the television but you’d brought the DVD player.  Everything.  Hell, you’d sleep on the bean bag in Natasha’s dorm some nights because even being in the same apartment as him was too much.

Eventually, there was compromise.  An understanding grew between you and with that, a truce.  You couldn’t keep living like you were.

You were pretty sure the war had finally, silently ended one late night in October.  It was the weekend before Halloween, and you’d had the worst shift of your life.

Your keys clanged as you unlocked the front door, trying to open it as quietly as possible.  Even from where you stood, you could see the clock above the stove that read 1:42 AM.  You were supposed to be off at ten, but that clearly hadn’t happened.  One of the other girls working had gotten sick and you were forced to cover the few hours she was supposed to work alone until close.

And to add onto that, you made less the entire weekend than you had last Friday night.  You’d been hit on, groped, yelled at.  Fuck.  You just wanted to collapse in your bed.

“You’re home late.”

“Fuck!” You jumped in shock, your heart pounding in your chest.  God.  Your anxiety had just spiked and the exhaustion you’d been feeling was replaced with your fight or flight instinct.

Bucky was standing in the hallway entrance, brows furrowed.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”  He had on those gray sweats that he looked so good in…

No!  Down girl!  Bad!

It didn’t matter that he was hot.  He was a total dick.

Though, lately he’d be rather kind.  Nice.  There’d been less fights in the past few weeks.

You cleared your throat, looking away from him.  “Yeah, Wanda got sick, so I had to close.”

“There’s dinner in the microwave,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh.  Thank you.”

He nodded, before disappearing down the hall.  It surprised you when you heard the bath start, but whatever.  Whether or not he took baths was none of your business.

You were surprised to find a huge bowl of vegetable soup in the microwave.  Huh.  You’d just been talking to Natasha about how much you missed your mom’s homemade version.

Whatever.  It wasn’t like you’d ever be having that again.

You let your head rest on the counter as you waited for the soup to heat up.  Fuck.  Your entire body ached.

“Hey, do you want epsom salt?” Bucky called out from the bathroom.

“Uh, what?” You said as you raised your head.  Even just moving that little made your head pound.

He poked his head out of the doorway, his long hair pulled back in a bun.  “For your bath?  Do you want epsom salt?”

“My bath?  What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as the microwave beeped.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe.  “The bath that I’m currently running you.  Do.  You.  Want.  Epsom.  Salts?”

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other.  “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you expected.  “That would be nice.”

Once he’d disappeared back into the bathroom, you pulled out your phone and texted Nat.

To: Tasha

Why is Barnes acting weird?

From: Tasha

Which one of you?

Get it?

Cause you’re married?

To: Tasha

Yeah

I got it.

But he’s being fucking weird.

From: Tasha

How so?

To: Tasha

He made me dinner?  At least, he poured vegetable soup from a can into a bowl and left it in the microwave.

Oh

And he’s running me a bath???

V V strange.

If I don’t text you tomorrow

It’s probably because he killed me

From: Tasha

Oh that

To: Tasha

What do you mean

“Oh that”????

NATASHA

ANSWER YOUR PHONE

From: Tasha

Sorry, was talking to Steve

He mentioned you’d been working a lot and how tired you were so I told him he should do something nice.

And I may have told him that you missed your mom’s vegetable soup.

So that probably explains that.

“Hey, it’s ready,” Bucky said as he came into the kitchen.  “I’ve got some towels in the dryer going, so they’ll be all warm when you’re ready to get out.”  He seemed so… laissez-faire about it.  Like you two didn’t fight on a daily basis usually.  He watched as you took a bite of the soup, his blue eyes zeroed in on you.  “Do you like it?” He asked.  “I tried following my ma’s recipe.  Don’t know how well it went.”

You couldn’t help but moan around the spoon as the warm soup went down.  Even reheated, it was amazing.  “This is your mom’s recipe?  It’s amazing.”

His cheeks flushed as he tried to hide a grin.  “Thanks.  I’ve missed her cooking.”

It was silent as you finished up the soup, the only sound being the spoon clanging against the bowl.  It wasn’t until you set your dishes in the sink to wash the next day that he spoke again.

“Oh, I got you this,” he said as he pulled out a box.  “I saw my advisor and he knows that we’re married and he mentioned that we still don’t have rings, so I just went and grabbed a ring from a thrift store.”

It was then that you noticed the simple silver band on his left ring finger, glinting in the low light.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you took the box.  But your breath was stolen from your lungs as you opened it, revealing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring with a matching diamond wedding band.  “It’s…  It’s beautiful…  Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Uh, you go ahead and get in the bath.  I’ll bring you the towels when they’re done.”

As you sat in the bath, you couldn’t help but stare at the rings that now resided on your left hand.  They glinted in the low light of the candles that had been placed in various places around the bathroom, most likely lit with Bucky’s lighter from the local smoke shop.

They were absolutely stunning.

Maybe… just maybe… this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as you first thought it would be.

You glanced over at the table as your phone buzzed, running to it.  Maybe it’s Bucky…

But your hope was dashed as you realized it was Natasha calling you.

You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until a drop of water fell on the screen.  Wiping your eyes, you brought it up to your ear.  “Hey, Tasha!  What’s up?”  You couldn’t help but wince.  You sounded like a fucking real estate agent.  Perfect and peppy and… not you.

“Hey, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing,” she whispered, as though she was trying to keep someone else from hearing.  “Bucky got the divorce papers today and I figured that meant you did, too.”

Ah, another thing.  He’d been staying at Steve and Natasha’s place since all of you had graduated, and the time had come for the divorce.  He’d gotten all of his things out within two days, except for the hoodie you were currently cocooned in and your wedding rings.

“I know how much you love this place,” he’d said with a wry smile.  “So you can have it in the divorce settlement.”

It had been a joke.  The divorce settlement.  Like you two had actually been in love and things just hadn’t worked out.

“You aren’t gonna change the Netflix password on me, right?” You asked as you stood in the doorway of Bucky’s room, arms crossed over your chest.  “Because I’m still paying for half of it.”

Buck grinned at you as he taped the last box shut.  “I don’t know…  Might change it up on you.  Have it all to myself.  Then my suggested movies and shows won’t be so fucked up,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, glaring at him.  But there was no heat behind it.  “We have separate profiles on there, you dumbass.  So if Gossip Girl is on your suggested, that’s your fault.”

The laugh that erupted from his mouth made him throw his head back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seeing Bucky Barnes laugh was one of the Seven Wonders of the World.  It was better than the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, and the Great Wall of China all rolled into one.

“We’re still gonna have Thursday night movies, right?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked.

In the three years since you’d gotten married, Thursday night had become your sort of fake Date Night.  You two would order takeout and watch movies until the both of you passed out of the couch.  You both changed your availability at your jobs to let them know that you couldn’t work Thursdays.  Not even Natasha and Steve were allowed to intrude.  It was just your special night to hang out.

“I’ll bring the food.  Do you want Thai or Mexican?” He asked, his features a little softer.

“I’ll text you what I want,” you said.  Biting your lip, you toyed with the rings on your left hand.  “I guess I should give you these back, huh?”  You started to slip them off, but he stopped you.

“They’re yours,” he said, his hand closing over yours.  His blue eyes shimmered in the light as you swallowed.  “Keep them… as a reminder of your former husband.”  The corner of his mouth twitched, but you couldn’t tell if he was going to smile or frown.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, suddenly surging forward to hug him.  “Even though you’re super annoying.”

Bucky laughed as he wrapped his arms around you just as tight.  “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“How’s he doing?” You asked as you moved to what had formerly been Bucky’s room.  It was now completely bare, except for a single gum wrapper on the floor.  You sank down against the wall as you stared at it.  Extra wintermint gum.  Because he absolutely hated spearmint.

“About as well as you, I imagine,” she said slowly, choosing her words ever so carefully.  “I don’t know.  He went out for a walk a few minutes ago.  But he locked himself in the guest room for hours after getting the papers.”

You let your head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to stop another onslaught of tears.  “This is what we wanted,” you said, your voice cracking.

A pause.  You could feel the tension even through the phone, a can of worms Natasha was about to open.  “Is it?  Is this what you wanted?”

“This was always the plan!” You retorted, the tears coming in a wave now.  “We’d stay married until after we graduated and then we’d divorce.  No drama, no court, no lawyers.  Just a means to an end.”

You could hear her whispering to someone that you knew was Steve on the other end for a few seconds, the sound muffled.  She’d probably covered the speaker.  “Do you want me to come over?” She finally asked.

“No,” you said with a sigh, rubbing the hell of your palm against your eyes.  “I just wanna… curl up in bed and watch cheesy movies and never come out.”

You didn’t understand.  Why did this hurt so bad?  He was just a friend.  You two had never even kissed, for crying out loud.  This wasn’t some fanfiction where you two fell into bed one drunken night and then woke up with feelings.  This wasn’t an ‘Oh no, there’s only one bed’ type of deal with 100K+ words on AO3.  You two were just friends.  Really.  There was no happy ending for the two of you waiting.

“Are you still gonna go to the Barnes’s Fourth of July party?” Natasha asked, her voice softer.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your knee caps.  “There’s no point.  We’re not married anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” she chided.  “You know he’d want you there.  So would his family.  You’re still a Barnes, even if you change your last name back.”

“I don’t know,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip.  “I like the last name Barnes better.  It’s not like I have any connection to my old last name.  Maybe…”  You swallowed.  “Maybe I should keep it.  It costs money to change it back, after all.  It’s on my license now.”

Ah, yes.  Because your license had expired while you were married and you’d had to get a new one.

“You’re a Barnes now and forever, hon,” she teased.  You could hear her smile through the phone.  “And you know Winifred would be pissed as hell if you didn’t go.  You’re her daughter now just as much as Bucky is her son.”

God, the tears came on like a tsunami when you remembered the Barneses.  George, Winifred, Becca, all of them.  Especially Winifred.  Sweet, sweet Winnie that had become your mom in the years since you’d met her.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this,” you said as you walked up the steps to his place.  Or, rather, his parents’ place.  “I should just go home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed as he searched for the right key.  “I’m not letting you drive the way back just to spend Christmas alone.”

Truthfully, it was stupid to even suggest.  Your apartment that you shared with him now was over eight hours away, and it was two days before Christmas Eve.

God, how the hell did you end up here?  You’d been planning on spending it alone, just like you had Thanksgiving.

But when Bucky had come back from the break and realized that you hadn’t gone anywhere, it’d prompted him to ask why, which had then resulted in him insisting on you accompanying him to New York City for Christmas with his family.

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked, barely audible.  In truth, you were terrified.  This was your first holiday season that you were away from your parents.  Thanksgiving had been strange, and you had certain it wasn’t going to get any better up until a few weeks ago.

Bucky stopped suddenly, looking at you with big blue eyes.  “Sweetheart, they’re going to adore you,” he said, more sincere than he’d been since the two of you had gotten married.  “How could they not?”

“You didn’t!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t like me either.  And then we got to know each other.”

He had a point.

You grumbled, staring down at your boots.  They were still covered in snow.

“And besides, Ma hasn’t shut up about meeting you ever since she found out about you,” he muttered as he finally found the right key.  “Dad said she’s been obsessively cleaning the house since she found out you were coming.”

As soon as the opened the door, you were hit with a wall of sound.  A woman with the same shade of hair as Bucky rushed forward, trapping the six foot man in a hug.  “YOU’RE HOME!”

“Winnie, come on, don’t suffocate the boy.”  A man with Bucky’s eyes appeared, his hands shoved in his pockets.  He was trying to appear nonchalant, but the second he was free of his mother’s grasp, he was dragging him into another hug.  “I’ve missed you, son.”

“And you must be his wife!” Winifred Barnes said, suddenly turning on you.

“Ma, she has a name.”

“I know that!”

“Winnie–”

You were pulled into a hug, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with feelings.  Maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t hugged your own mother in so long, or maybe it was just because Winifred was that lovely of a person.  Either way, you were tearing up as she hugged you tightly.  You gave her your name as she pulled back, looking over your face.

“Oh, you’re even prettier than Jamie said!”

Your cheeks flushed as Bucky grumbled out a quiet “Ma…”

It was then that you were swept into the apartment, finding it bustling with people.  You were then introduced to the rest of his family: his younger sister, Becca, who was going to be a senior in high school and was SO grateful to have a new sister, his aunts, his uncles, his parents.  The entire apartment was bursting with people even days before the actual holiday.

It wasn’t until after dinner (which was absolutely delicious) that you were able to capture a quiet moment in the kitchen, helping Winifred wash dishes.

“Thank you for having me over,” you said, to break the silence.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, surprisingly, you just felt like you needed to vocalize your thanks for what was probably the third time.  “It means a lot.”

“Any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she rinsed off a plate.  “And we’re so grateful for what you’re doing.  He mentioned that it helps you, too, but…  Our family can’t afford to pay for his housing.  We can barely make his tuition.”  She looked at you with crystal clear eyes that seemed to bore into your soul.  “We’re so happy to have you.”  She then paused, glancing over at the side of the sink, where you’d set your wedding rings just to make sure they didn’t slip off in the water.  “You know, I was so happy when he asked for my ring.  He’s always dreamed of giving it to a girl.”

“What?” You asked, looking at her in shock.

Winifred paused, her brows furrowed in a way that really reminded you of your husband.  “Did he not tell you?  The engagement ring is mine.  But he saved up over the summer to buy a matching band for it.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared at the rings.  Bucky had gotten his ma’s ring for you?  But… why?  You two were barely friends at this point.

“I would’ve been spending Christmas alone if it wasn’t for him inviting me,” you said, breaking her stare to look down at your soapy hands.  “He found out I spent Thanksgiving at home and almost shit a brick.”  You rushed to cover your mouth, to apologize, but she just snorted.

An easy smile tugged at her lips.  “Holidays are a big thing for our family, and I guess we passed that down to Jamie.  Everyone comes to town for about a week and we spend it drinking and shooting the shit, baking.  We can’t afford much, so our gifts are usually just spending time together,” she said.

“It sounds nice,” you whispered as you scrubbed absentmindedly at a pan.  “My family… even when I still talked to them, we were never big on holidays.”  Winifred had gone quiet beside you.  “It was always just us.  We’d eat dinner together and sometimes I’d get a present, but mostly it was just spent like any other day.”

She took a deep breath, setting a plate on the drying rack.  “What… happened?  If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I… confronted my parents about the sexual abuse I went through as a kid,” you said slowly, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat.  “My cousin…  He, uh…  He’s only a year and a half older than me.  From the time I was… four or five, I think, to about twelve, he would… you know.”  The kitchen felt deadly silent, and you were so glad that the rest of the Barnses, including Bucky, were in the living room.  Even though he knew the basics of what had happened, you never told him details.  “And my parents would punish me for it when he got caught.  They blamed me.  They’d ground me or spank me or… whatever.”  You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood.  “They didn’t really take it well.  It doesn’t matter though.  I’m fine.”

You were shocked when you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.  Winifred’s arms formed a cocoon around you and you could feel her tears on your face.  She was only an inch or two taller than you.  “That was not your fault,” she gasped out, holding you to her.  “That was not your fault.”

Before you realized what was happening, you were clutching onto her as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You didn’t know how long she’d held you before she leaned back, wiping away your tears.  Or at least, trying to before they were replaced with more.  “You are not what he did to you, you hear me?” She asked, wiping at her own face.  “You are always welcome here.  We’re your family now.”

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Bucky in the doorway, his sea blue eyes wide.  He was holding a few extra plates that had been left behind.

“Nothing,” she said with a watery grin.  “Just… talking.”

“Here,” he said as he walked over and put the dishes inside the sink filled with soapy water.  “I’ll finish up with my wifey here, and you go clean up before dad freaks out because you’re crying.”

She barked out a laugh, nodding.  “Fine.  Fine.  You know how he gets if I’m upset,” she said, kissing your forehead before leaving.

“So… You actually okay?” Bucky asked as he took over rinsing the dishes you washed.

The smile that found its way onto your lips was real, surprisingly, as you said, “Everything’s great, Jamie.”

And even though he let out a groan, he was smiling, too.

It was after that trip that you’d started calling him Jamie.  It just… felt better rolling off your tongue than Bucky ever did.  It was also when holidays in Brooklyn became a permanent thing.  Anytime Bucky went home, so did you.

They were your family.

But now…  Now what?  Did you lose them like you lost your parents?

Granted, losing your parents wasn’t exactly the worst thing.

“Sweetheart?  You there?” Natasha asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head to clear out the cloudiness of your memories.  “Yeah, I’m–”  You broke off as you heard a knock at the door, a frown tugging at your lips.  “Hold on, Tasha, I’ll call you back…”  You hung onto your phone as you walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole.

Bucky?...  What the fuck was he doing here?

You opened the door wide, shocked to find him crying.  His eyes were puffy and red, his nose running.  “Jamie?  What’s wrong?”  You reached forward to touch his shoulder, shoving your phone in your back pocket.

“Don’t sign those papers.”

“Wait…  What?”  Now you were even more confused.  Your brows furrowed as you pushed his hair back from his face.  God, he needed a haircut.  Maybe you could…  No.  Not the focus right now.

He stepped toward, half inside the apartment that had been his, too, just two weeks before.  His large, calloused hand caressed your face.  “I don’t want to not be your husband,” he said, his voice cracking.

Your heart thundered inside your chest and you were half sure this was some kind of trick of your mind to soothe its aching.  “What do you mean?”

“I want to make this work,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands.  “I… I want to actually have Thursday night Date Nights and take you out and when we go home for the holidays, I want to kiss you under the mistletoe my ma always hangs up, and I want you to wear my ma’s ring.  I want to be your husband.  Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying–yet again, fucking damn it–until he wiped them away.  “I don’t want to not be your wife, either,” you said, your voice shaking.  “I love you, I love you so much.”

His lips met yours in a blazing kiss, holding you closer than you thought possible.  “I love you more,” he whispered against your lips.  “I’m never letting you go.”

You dragged him inside, shutting the door before kissing him again.  “You’re staying here.  None of this bullshit of you staying with Tasha and Steve.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled, holding onto your waist.  “But only if I get to sleep in your bed.”

“Only if we can shred those divorce papers.”

The moment was interrupted by his phone ringing, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw it was Winifred.  He shot you an apologetic look as he answered it.  “Hey, ma.”

She was speaking so loudly you could hear her clearly.  “Well?!  How did it go?!  Did you ask her?!”

“Yes, I asked her,” he said slowly, squeezing your side.  “She said yes.  I’m with her now.”

Both of you flinched away as she screamed in excitement.  “GIVE HER THE PHONE!  GIVE HER THE PHONE!”

You smiled as you pressed it to your ear.  “Hi, mom.”

“BABY!  I’M SO HAPPY!  NOW WE CAN HAVE A REAL WEDDING!”  She was speaking at a hundred miles an hour.  “Do you want a summer or fall wedding?  I think it might be too late to do summer, but I’m sure we could scrounge something together!”

You giggled as Bucky stole kisses from you while she was speaking, distracting you.

“Sweetheart?  You there?”

“A late summer wedding sounds perfect,” you said, unable to wipe the grin from your face.  “Absolutely perfect.”

[onlyfortheplot]

I Don’t Know My Name?

➳ PART OF THE DADDY UNIVERSE

➳ Pairing:Habia Lev x Fem!Reader ft. Koji L/N

➳ Synopsis:

“I can give you an autograph if you want. Your kid said that you liked—“

You raised a hand to get him too stop.

“You’re Lev Haiba?“ you said softly, he gave a through nod, swiping of his sunglasses in proof.

“See?“

“See.“ you said. And you did see. Oh god.

➳ Warning: Slight language!! 

➳ Word Count: 2.4K

➳ A/N:

OMG!! I could barley focus on this because of the uwujima things (if you haven’t seen it its on my blog!). But, I am 100% gonna write a part 2/ extra for this??? Like it seems like a part 2 sort of fic??? Should I?? ANYWAY ENJOY <3

You shuffled the books on your desk, piling them on top of each other almost randomly. You had changed the order of these books five times, still bored as you gazed at the almost empty bookstore. Sure, it was still morning. And sure, maybe most people won’t plan to visit a bookshop at seven a.m, but you couldn’t help but wish that people would come. You had been sitting here, almost two hours, watching as a few people passed the windows, some stopping to wave a small ‘hi.’ Bu, you were glad that you could some extra cash, your sons’ birthday was coming up after all and you couldn’t expect his useless existence of a father to do much.

You had remembered, since you had been divorced to him, the excuses he had came up with to not celebrate his son’s birthday. On Koji’s second birthday he had made the excuse that he was too young to have a birthday party. You had looked at him angrily, fuming as you asked why he had celebrated his step-daughter’s first birthday. He shrugged, saying it was the way it was.

On Koji’s third birthday, you had asked your ex-husband to get him a present, a small figurine that Koji had begged you for. Then, on the day of his birthday, your ex had nonchalantly said he forgot, bu had bought him a gift card to his favorite store. You had grabbed the gift card, and throwing it on the ground. You swore as you kicked him out of your house. 

Koji’s fourth and fifth had gone swell. The cake was tasty, being made by your best friend and your mother. The gifts were even better!

But, Koji’s sixth birthday is when it had all gone down. You still cried at night as you remembered it. It wasn’t really your fault, or at least not fully. If anything it was your stupid ex’s fault. He had come to Koji’s party, slightly intoxicated. You could smell the dampening scent of alcohol. It was disgusting. You remembered, as he punched open the door and trying to grab Koji. You got angry, shoving him away from your son, pulling him behind you.

“Gimme my son.“he slurred, as he made grabby hands at him, “I want it.“

You gritted your teeth angrily as you slapped him, across his face. He looked at you shocked, thick tears streaming down his face. He then passed out on your living room floor.

That was the last time you and your son had seen him. Not that you tried to reach out after that. Even Koji had given up asking about his father. 

You watched, eyes thick with incoming tears and tiredness, at Koji, who lay asleep on the front couch of the bookstore. You sighed, rubbing your temples. You could only hope that his seventh birthday would go smoothly.

“Mommy?“ you whipped your head to Koji, who looked up at you with drooping eyes. You gave him a soft smile, waving him over.

“Come here, baby.“ He nodded, rubbing his eyes, as he moved from the couch to your lap. He shuffled on, wrapping his small hands on your neck. You rubbed his back as he cuddled into you.

“Are you sleepy, buddy.“ He gave a muffled response and a nod.

“Well, do you want to stay here or go read?”

He lifted his head up, looking at you.

“Books? Can I read comic books?” His eyes twinkled, even through the obvious drowsiness.

You nodded as he gave you a smile, making his way to move off your lap.

“Be careful okay?“ you murmured as you ruffled his hair.

“Okie!“ you watched as he shuffled off, behind some bookshelves. You heard the slight rummaging of books, and the shifting of papers. You listened as Koji let out a soft sigh.

You were glad he was mature—or more mature than other six soon-to-be seven year old. You reached under the stack of books for the magazine you had hidden. It wasn’t a bad magazine, but you felt slightly guilty as you flipped through it looking for a specific page.

“There it is.“ Your fingers brushed over the smooth page, as you gazed at the model.

Most models in the magazine were nice, good-looking, but this one made your stomach clench. There was just something different. Maybe it was the green, cat-like eyes that seemed to look through the paper, right at you. Or maybe it was perfectly trimmed hair, that framed his face nicely. Or maybe it was his long, lithe arms that seemed so elegant. You blushed as you looked at him. Whatever it was, it made your stomach flutter.

You flipped through the magazine resting your hand on your cheek.

“Lev Haiba” you read out-loud as you saw another picture, his name printed out right under him.

“Nice name,“ you muttered to yourself.

You continued to flip through, stopping periodically, to look over at the customers that began to file in. You gave a small wave as they grinned at you. Some came over to your desk, to which you leaned back slightly, cupping the magazine in an attempt to shield it from the customer's view. Some merely gave you a small greeting and went behind bookshelves.

“Good mornin’ L/N!“ You recognized , the smiling figure and smiled.

“Good morning,“ you replied, “How was your day?“

“Well, the day just started, L/N. It is just eight! Or did your boring job make you forget.“ she teased.

“Yukie,“ you whined as you closed the magazine, “it’s not my fault!“

“Sure,“ she smirked peering onto your desk, “Whatca got there?“

“Nothing,“ you said, stiffly, as you pushed the magazine towards you, “So what can I get—“

She didn’t let you continue, as she walked forward, swiping the magazine from under your nose.

She flipped through the pages, stopping where the pages seemed to be more creased.

“Oh?” she raised a brow, looking at the image of Lev, “Y/N you have a kid!” 

You scoffed, swiping the book back, and stuffing it in your bag under you.

“I am looking, respectfully.“ you replied to her amused glare.

“Sure.“ she rolled her eyes, as she looked around, “Anyway where’s the kid?“

“Koji?“ you asked,”Reading.“

“His birthday is coming up soon, right?“

“Yeah. A month and a half.“ you said, as you gave a small to the old man who had just walked in.

“Have you thought of a present?“ 

You bit your lips, scrunching your nose.

“I’m thinking.“ you muttered.

“Have you thought of getting him a new dad.“ You choked, gaping at Yukie. She had said it almost, nonchalantly, you had thought you heard her wrong.

“Yah? What about that model?“ she wiggled her brows, laughing at your emotionless face.

“He’s a model.“ you said before pointing to yourself, “And I’m a single mother with a degree in law, but works in a bookstore.“

“Well, he is a nice guy you know,“ you gaped at her again, jaw dropping at the statement.

“You—you know him?“ you screeched, receiving odd looks from your customers, “Yukie, why didn’t you tell—“

“I thought you were looking, respectfully.“ she said in a teasing tone. You huffed, crossing your arms.

“I was, but—“

“Crap!“ someone yelled as they ran through the door, slamming it open with their feet. You instinctively lept to your feet, at the cursing man. Your heart beat in your chest, as the man looked behind him, before walking into the store. 

Giant. That was the first thing you noticed. He had to bend under the door frame to make sure his baseball hat wasn’t knocked off. You gasped as he stretched slightly, his full height revealed. You felt small. So small. You weren’t short— or not too short, but beside this man. You were an ant compared to him.

The next thing you noticed, was his lean figure, draped with multiple layers, a hoodie being the top. His pants hung low, on his hips, the belt being useless. The sunglasses were pushed right up the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes from you. You scrunched your nose, as you thought. Familiar.

“He told me I should have been careful, but it wasn’t my fault. This time. I think.“ he muttered to himself.

You leaned closer, as customers gave him an annoyed glance, but continued with their work.

“Can I do something for you. Sir.“ you added, to be respectful. He winced away, looking at you with eyebrows raised high.

“Wait, people actually come here?“ he asked, his voice low and gruff. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes people come to my store. What can I do to help you“

“What?“ he asked, pulling out a phone from his pocket, fumbling as he swore.

“Sir, if you could not swear, that would be much appreciated,“ you gritted your teeth. Just who did this man think he was.

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair, as he walked behind a couple of bookshelves. You peered your eyes, suspicious.

“Is that normal?“ Yukie pointed at the door. You sighed.

“No?“ Sometimes it was, it really depended on the day. You just wish it wouldn’t be the day you brought your kid to the store.

“Anyway, about Koji’s birthday. Just think about getting a—“

“Cool!“ you flinched at the high voice, that you knew was your sons’.

“Isn’t that Koji’s voice?“ Yuki murmured.

“That’s so cool, mister!” 

You lept from your seat, stomping across the store.

“Thanks!“

“Are you really a...“

“Model? Yeah!“

You paused. A model in your bookstore? You slowly peeked from behind a shelf. You gritted your teeth as you saw the man from before, crouching down to talk to your son. He had taken of his hat, his silver hair tousled as he ran a hand through them. He grinned at your son, who looked at him with awe.

“My mom loves models!“

“Really? Who?”

“This one model named Lev! She looks at him all the time. She talks about him too. She—“

“Koji L/N!“ you hissed as you jumping from behind the shelf, scaring both the man and Koji.

“Mom!“ he shrieked, baching away from the stranger.

“Koji L/N, what in world are you doing.“ Heat crawled into your cheeks as you refused to look at the man.

“Mom I—“

“No excuses, young man.“ you hissed, “What have I told you about strangers!“

“But, he’s not a stranger! He’s a model!“ he squeaked under your intense gaze. You turned your head slightly, looking at the man.

“Sir, you could be a model, a doctor, or the goddamn president, but when I say—“

“I’m sorry ma’am!“ he gushed, bowing “I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Its just that the press keeps on bothering me.“

You looked at him. His silver hair falling over his head, as he continued to bow his head. You sighed, kneeling in front of him, and patting his head.

He looked up, looking at you. His glasses had slipped off, revealing his slanted green eyes. Well shit.

“I can give you an autograph if you want. Your kid said that you liked—“

You raised a hand to get him too stop. 

“You’re Lev Haiba?“ you said softly, he gave a through nod, swiping of his sunglasses in proof.

“See?“

“See.“ you said. And you did see. Oh god.

“I’m sorry!“ you sighed, as you looked at Koji, warily. “Koji, Auntie Yuki is up front.” He nodded, giving a small, apologetic smile, before he rushed off.

“Its too early to deal with this.“ you muttered, as you continued to kneel before the man.

“So Mr.Haiba?“ you asked, he shot his eyes to yours.

“Call me Lev!“ he grinned, giving you a big thumbs up.

“I—are you really Lev Haiba?” 

“Yeah!“ he looked at you, tilting his head in confusion, “I look like myself, right?“

You gave him a deadpan look.

“Okay, first of all—“

“What’s your name?“ he blurted out, blushing slightly.

“Pardon?“

“Name. What’s my—your — name.“ he stumbled over his words, as be rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Y/N L/N,“ you said.

“Y/N. A pretty girl for a pretty name?“ he sounded confused, even if it were his own words he spoke.

“What?“ you asked incredulously.

“You’re pretty?“ he said, more a question than a real statement.

You rubbed your temples, softly pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Let’s restart. Hi!” you looked up to him, hiding the wariness with a layer of warmth, “My name’s Y/N L/N, what’s yours?”

“Lev Habia!“ he said, holding a lithe hand out to you. It really was elegant. You reached out grasping it. You fluttered your lashes, as he looked into your eyes. The blush grew as you grasped tighter on his hand. He squeezed slightly, as his eyes immediately shot to your fingers. You giggled, as you removed your hand and wiggled your empty ring-finger towards him. He sighed, as if content. You smiled as you looked up at him. His eyes were so pretty. His lashes fluttered slightly, as he blinked at your face. At the awe in it.

He had lied when, he blamed their run in on the press. Or at least, he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Sure, there were a couple of crazy fan girls trying to follow him. But, he wanted to come here. Come to see you,at least. He remembered months ago, when you had screamed at a man in front of your bookstore, giving him a glare that could kill. He remembered the scoff you had given as you shrugged him off and slamming the door in his face. It was a weird reason to be attracted to someone, rather it would be something most people avoided. He remembered telling Yaku about the incident. He could feel the disappointment reeking from his senpai after he told him.

“But, senpai, she’s so pretty!“ he had whined to Yaku, who had called him a moron and promptly cut the call.

He looked at you, with your hard, peeking out from your poorly tied ponytail. His eyes trailed from your hair to your face, especially your eyes, that glowed with curiosity. He blushed.

“You have a cute kid!“ he blurted, taking in your surprised face.

“Would you—would you like to meet him?“ you asked shyly, looking at the ground.

Lev smiled, his eyes crinkling.

Yes. Yes he would.

[fridayfirefly]

Bruises

Read Bruises on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 30 - Goodbye

Bruce picked up his phone on the second ring. It wasn't unusual for him to get phone calls at eleven o'clock at night - he was a busy man, after all. What was unusual was the fact that the call was from an unknown number. Bruce very rarely gave out his personal number. "Hello?"

"Bruce?" a tiny voice questioned through the phone.

"Emilie?" Bruce recognized her voice, even though it had been ten years since the last time he spoke to Emilie Graham de Vanily (now Emilie Agreste). He never knew what had happened to her, just that one day she stopped answering his emails and her phone number was disconnected. Bruce wanted to reconnect with her, but at the time it seemed like Emilie chose not to speak to him on purpose.

"I'm sorry for calling so late at night. I know we haven't spoken in a long time, but I'm in Gotham and I need your help."

Bruce didn't hesitate for even a moment. "What do you need?"

Twenty minutes later, Bruce pulled up in front of Gotham International Airport. He didn't recognize Emilie at first, not until he got out of the car and she called his name.

"Bruce!" Emilie had changed. What surprised Bruce was that the first thing he noticed was not the black eye that marred her face, but the little blonde boy who stood at her side.

"Hello, Emilie," said Bruce, pointedly ignoring the fact that she hadn't told him about her son.

"Hello, Bruce. This is Adrien," she introduced.

"Hello." Adrien greeted Bruce quietly, his eyes trained at the ground. The white cast on his arm was decorated with little doodles. Bruce assumed that Emilie had drawn them with the pen she tucked behind her ear.

They all got into Bruce's car with little fanfare. Emilie sat in the passenger seat. Adrien sat in the back and was asleep before they left the parking lot.

"Did your husband give you that black eye?"

Emilie didn't waste words explaining the situation. "Yes."

"What about Adrien's arm?"

"I told Gabriel a long time ago that if he ever touched Adrien, I would leave him. Either he forgot or didn't believe me. I'm keeping true to my word. In the morning I'm going to a lawyer to file for divorce papers and a restraining order, and to press charges for Adrien's arm."

Bruce nodded, "I have a whole team of lawyers that you can use." He kept his eyes fixed on the road even though all he wanted to do was stare at her. It had been ten long years since he had seen her face to face.

Bruce first met Emilie during his junior year at Gotham University. He'd been a mess before that. He could barely stay sober long enough to go to class, and his grades were a testament to that fact. Emilie Graham de Vanily came to Gotham University as part of her study abroad program, in which she would spend two semesters at an American university, then return to Paris to finish her degree. She was Bruce's exact opposite: no-nonsense and dedicated to her studies.

The first time Bruce met Emilie, she slapped him in the face. It was the first day of the semester, and he was incredibly hungover. He only showed up to get the syllabus so he knew what the best days to skip were. Bruce sat down next to Emilie Agreste and started flirting with her, an action he had gotten very good at over his years at Gotham University. Emilie told him three times to knock it off, getting increasingly less polite until she eventually slapped him across the face and stormed out of the classroom.

Emilie must have slapped some sense back into Bruce because decided to apologize. She didn't forgive him immediately, but after a few weeks of sitting together in class, they decided to study together. By the end of the semester, they were meeting up every weekend to hang out. Bruce stopped drinking so much, started going back to Wayne Manor on the weekends, started talking to Alfred again.

Bruce asked Emilie out at the beginning of her second semester. To Bruce's disappointment, Emilie declined, but with a gleam in her eye that let Bruce know that there was a chance that their relationship could become more than platonic. They spent the semester together, sharing meals and inside jokes, study rooms and secrets. Bruce was certain that when he asked her out a second time, as they both stood in the airport, waiting for Emilie's flight to Paris to board, she would say yes. Instead, Emilie pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him, "Third time's the charm, Bruce." Then she got on her flight and they never spoke again.

Bruce found out three months later that she was recently engaged. He was never sent a wedding invitation. He tried his best to forget her entirely, after that.

"We're here," Bruce broke the silence as he parked the car in front of Wayne Manor.

From the backseat, Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Maman?" he mumbled.

Emilie got out of the car and opened up the backseat, helping Adrien to his feet. "Tu es en sécurité, mon fils," she whispered to him, assuring her that he was safe here.

Alfred opened up the front door and welcomed Emilie and Adrien into the house, offering to escort them to their rooms. Bruce was suddenly reminded of the time difference between Paris and Gotham. 1 AM in Gotham was 7 AM in Paris - early morning. It had been at least 24 hours since Emilie and Adrien last slept.

"Are you sure we should go?" asked Emilie, yawning through her sentence.

"Of course. I'll get everything for the lawyers taken care of by morning."

Emilie nodded. "Thank you, Bruce."

Emilie and Adrien left the foyer, following Alfred. Bruce made his way to his office and got to work.

Some time later, Alfred entered the room. “Miss Graham de Vanily and her son have just gone to bed.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You should go too."

Bruce shook his head. "I have too much work to do. I need this paperwork ready for my lawyers in the morning." At the top of his desk were divorce papers for Emilie, papers for the termination of parental rights, and two restraining orders, one for Adrien and one for Emilie, both against Gabriel Agreste.

"What you need, is some sleep. You'll be no use to Emilie and Adrien if you're dead on your feet tomorrow morning."

Bruce sighed, casting one last glance at the half-filled forms. "Alright."

----------

At the breakfast table the next morning, Adrien and Dick had become fast friends.

“If you were a superhero, what would your name be?” Dick quizzed the younger boy.

“That depends on what my powers are.”

Dick wrinkled his nose in objection. “You don’t need powers to be a superhero, you just need training.”

Bruce was certain that he had said the same thing to Dick at one point. Dick heeded the words like gospel - now he spent most of his free time training to be Batman's partner. Though Bruce had already told Dick that he wasn't allowed to fight crime until he was thirteen, Dick seemed to think that enough skill might make up for the two-year difference.

"Okay. What would your superhero name be?" asked Adrien

“I would be called Robin, after Robin Hood.”

“I’ll be called Peregrine. Did you know that the peregrine falcon is the fastest type of bird? They can reach speeds of up to 240 miles per hour. I learned that from one of Mom's movies."

Bruce could recall that Emilie narrated a few nature documentaries in her rather brief film career.

Emilie walked into the kitchen, her black eye hidden by a thick layer of concealer. "Good morning, boys." She looked a bit startled, and Bruce realized that he hadn't told her about Dick.

"Emilie, could I talk to you in my office?"

"Sure."

As they made their way down the hall, Emilie remarked to Bruce, "You didn't tell me you had a son."

"I was.... distracted, last night. I adopted Richard a few months back. I was there when his parents died and he reminded me of myself when I was his age."

Emilie nodded. "I'm glad Adrien has someone to talk to here."

They continued down the hall, stopping at the door to Bruce's office.

"So what is it that you wanted to talk about?" asked Emilie as she entered his office.

Bruce held up the forms on his desk. "Divorce papers, restraining orders, termination of parental rights, and a police report for the injuries he caused. I wanted to know which papers you wanted to be filed and when. "

"I want them all filed, as soon as possible." Emilie's voice was hard.

"Are you sure?" Bruce didn't want to ask, but he felt the need to double-check.

"Bruce, I spent ten years of my life with Gabriel. I let him manipulate me into thinking that he was a good man. And he had his good days. There were days when I remembered why I fell in love with him in the first place. He was so passionate..." Emilie's wistful voice turned cold. "But passion turned to obsession, love turned to hate, and he couldn't stand me but he couldn't let me go either. I was willing to give him second chances when I was his only victim, but I can't let him get away with hurting Adrien. If I don't leave now, if I let him get away with even one of the bruises he's given me, then Adrien and I will never be free of him."

Bruce nodded. "We can get to work on these after breakfast."

"Wait." Emilie gently grabbed his elbow. Bruce turned to face her. "Once the divorce is finalized..." Emilie paused and took a deep breath. "Remember what I said at the airport, when we were both young?"

Bruce nodded and quoted her, "You told me: 'Third time's the charm, Bruce.'"

Emilie gave him a small smile. "Third time's the charm. If you still want me, ask me again."

Bruce knew that Emilie had been through a lot these past few days. He didn't want her to make a decision she would later regret. "Are you sure?"

"I've said goodbye to you one too many times, Bruce. I never want to say goodbye to you again."

There was a deep, earnest honesty in her eyes. Bruce knew that there was no longer anything holding her back. There wasn't anything holding him back, either. "Whatever you need, Emilie, I'll give it to you."

Emilie smiled, a hopeful look on her face. "Tell me I can stay."

"Forever."

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