#i always imagined her as nina

[wildfangz]

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of Dina & Johnny Zest as an item. I think their personalities mesh well (especially since I don't view Dina as just a shallow & simple gold digger) and I also like the character development that'd come with her actively choosing a partner that not only isn't rich, but struggling.

She's definitely materialistic, loves luxury, loves being spoiled... but I also see her as ambitious and more than capable of making her own fortune, the faith in herself just isn't quite there and she's trying to hit an easy button. I feel like it'd be a relationship that'd push her more towards tapping into that part of herself and then I don't really view Johnny as a nothing. He's a hard worker and I think eventual success is a given, so overall I could see them ending up fairly well-off, and being each other's cheerleader along the way.

I think there's also something there about their place in their families. Johnny obviously has the shorter end of the stick but ironically enough even though I headcanon Dina as the one that gets more attention from men due partly to her more bubbly personality, which is something that gets under Nina's skin a bit, I view Nina as being more so the favorite growing up, at least with their mom, who I HC as Dina having a bit of a tense relationship with. So they both have mommy issues as far as I'm concerned

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)

Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.

Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”

Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”

“Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”

Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”

The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”

“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”

“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”

“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.

“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.

“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.

When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.

Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.

“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.

“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.

“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.

“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”

Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”

You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.

By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.

“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.

“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.

“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.

The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.

“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”

Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”

Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.

Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.

By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.

Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.

You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”

His response came almost immediately.

Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”

You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”

Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”

Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”

The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.

You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”

Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.

You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”

Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”

You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.

You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”

Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”

You: “I’m going to kill you.”

Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”

You: “No.”

You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”

Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”

You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”

Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”

You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.

You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”

Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”

You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”

Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”

You: “Absolutely.”

Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”

You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”

Rafe: “Angel.”

Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani. 

Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.

You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.

When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help. 

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”

He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.

The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.

You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.

The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”

“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”

You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”

“Oh. South Asian…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”

“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”

Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”

You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I already ate,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.

For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.

You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.

“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.

A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”

“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”

“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.

“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”

His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”

“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”

You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”

That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”

“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.

“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”

“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”

You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.

You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”

He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.

Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.

“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”

You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”

His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.

“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”

“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”

“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”

“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.

“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.

Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.

“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.

“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”

He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”

He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.

As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.

“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.

You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”

Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”

He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my wife, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”

Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”

There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”

His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”

You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”

The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”

“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”

“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”

“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.

chapter ten

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 3. New Trails

Masterlist

Summary: You and Riley take the beaten path to defeat boredom. Simon realizes that the seed of his new obsession has been planted.

Warnings: mild cursing, obsessive behavior

Simon had never told you how long he'd be gone - which was fine, your flat was only a twenty-minute drive from his home, should you need to do laundry or get more soap. You had some freelancing logo-design work you could focus on in your downtime, and Simon had been gracious enough to leave a note on the coffee table with the wifi password. Truth be told, you imagined this would feel like a holiday: no more shitty bosses. You were your own boss, here. You could make your own schedule, as long as you made time for Riley.

You soon discovered, after moving into Ghost's house, that it was very much not a vacation. The interior of his home was so barren that it made you feel like you had been sent to an asylum. On your first day there, you managed to get a bit of freelance work done; after that, you tried watching the telly, but you couldn't drown the heavy restlessness in the back of your mind.

You decided to phone a friend.

"What's Riley like?" Leslie said through the phone, which was tucked under your ear.

"Military dog." You replied. You were lying on the floor next to Riley, stroking her fur as her head rested on your stomach. "So proper, I've never seen anything like it. You know- when I made breakfast today, I dropped some food on the linoleum- she didn't bat an eye. Girl just watched."

"That's amazing... you know Donald would have run to it like it was the first meal he'd been fed in years."

You laughed, making Riley's head bounce on your abdomen. "Mum has got to stop feeding them real food..."

"What about the client?" Leslie said, changing the subject. "Simon, was it? What's he like?"

"Honestly?" You began, scratching between Riley's ears. "A decent guy, don't get me wrong - but bland. Gruff. His apartment is, too."

"Just like ya mum always said." She snickered. "Can I see?"

You sighed. "Nah, I never checked if it was ok to bring people over. Not sure if he'd appreciate me giving you a tour. But I'll ask next time if you can visit."

"That's fair..." You heard her shuffling around on the other end of the line. "Well listen babes, I should get back to work. Got five left on my lunch break."

You groaned at the prospect of having to be alone in Simon's barren home again. "Alright... still on for this Thursday?"

"You know it! Nina's coming too."

You grimaced. "Whoop-tee-doo..."

"Oh, c'mon, I'll make sure she's civil. Love ya."

"She'd better be. Love you!"

The call ended with a click, and you let the phone slide from your shoulder with a sigh. You stared at the ceiling, running through what you could possibly do. You'd already had a shower at your flat before coming here, you'd done plenty of work...

Riley tilted her head up to look at you, sensing your frustration. You looked back down at her.

"What d'you and Simon do all day?" You asked.

She sighed and looked away.

Maybe it was time for a walk.

"Alright, Riley!" You said, pocketing your phone and sitting up. She scrambled up at the sudden movement; her eyes followed your every move as you stood, her stare expectant and excited.

"Fancy a walk?" You asked.

She whined and yapped, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

You chuckled. "C'mon, then - before you and I both start going insane."

On your way to the closet to fetch her leash, she had nearly knocked you down to beat you there. You huffed, leaning down to grab your shoes and tug them on. She sat (im)patiently and watched, her tail slapping against the wooden floor.

"Alright, alright..." You laughed, grabbing her leash and latching it onto her harness. She obediently trotted to the front door and sat, waiting for you. You opened the door and stepped outside, confused when the leash tugged in your hand. You looked back inside and saw that Riley hadn't moved from her seat on the floor. She looked at you, ears forward and eyes eager as she waited for... something.

You looked at her, puzzled. "What's wrong, girl?"

She whined, pointing one foot up and thumping her tail against the floor.

Oh, right. Military dog.

"Okay, Riley." You said clearly, and she happily trotted out the door. You chuckled, locking the deadbolt behind you and beginning the much needed walk. She stuck right by your side, never passing you nor falling behind.

For the kind of gruff, admittedly shady man that Simon was, you noticed that he lived in a pretty nice area. If you told your mum where he lived, she'd blow a cap out of jealousy - the houses were neatly lined down the street, each one with a driveway and a small garden bed underneath the living room windows. Simon's was noticeably bare - Christ, even his grass was thinner than the other neighbors', how does one manage that?

You eyed his empty garden bed as you passed it. You wondered if he would let you plant a few things... just to liven up the drabness. A couple of Hostas, maybe some African Violets... you knew he wouldn't want too much colour, but he definitely needed something to brighten his home. Currently, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the other houses. Not to mention, it would give you something to slice through the boredom of staying here.

Eventually, the sidewalk led to the edge of a small patch of woods. A bridge stretched over the creek, which then led to a longer, winding path through the trees. You came to a halt, reading the sign next to the trail.

"Po-wee-hee-co park..." You mumbled and Riley stared at you with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. "Poeheko Park? You ever been here?"

She looked between you and the trail, sniffing the air. She licked her lips and whined.

"Suppose not, Simon's only ever dragged you around the block a few times, huh?"

She eyed the trail warily, but you could see her eyes brimming with eagerness and interest. You chuckled, reigning in her leash and starting over the bridge. "Time for an adventure!"

Simon sat stoically on the heli, eyes fixed on the wall across from him. His palms rested on his thighs, fingers splayed. He appeared calm and collected, focused on the mission that Priced had debriefed not too long ago.

Except, the mission couldn't have been further from his mind. He was thinking about you and Riley. We're you giving her enough attention? That was a dumb question; clearly you knew how much attention a dog needed. You'd done this before... but had you ever worked with a dog that had certain needs and medications? You never mentioned it during the interview, and he didn't remember to ask. What if you couldn't see the signs when Riley's pain was flaring up? What if you had forgotten that she needed pain medication?

He thought about texting you - but he quickly shut the thought down. He'd reserved texting for emergencies only, and he knew you were good at your job. There wasn't a moment of your life you hadn't spent around dogs, of course you would take perfect care of Riley.

"Honin' in, LT?" Soap's voice echoed through the coms as he took the seat opposite from Simon. He was relaxed, as if this was just another Friday for him - well, Simon supposed, it was.

"Always." Simon replied gruffly, focusing back on the mission at hand. He cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, trying to keep a cool composure.

"How's Riley doin'?" Soap asked. "Know I jus' seen 'er a few days ago, but- ye finally cave n' get someone to pet sit?"

Simon grunted. "'Course. Not gonna leave 'er alone that long, it'd be torture."

"Who'd ye get?"

"What's it to you?"

"Secret service? Ye snag one of the Royal Guards fer the job?"

"Jog on, Soap." Simon warned with a serious look, and Soap raised his hands in defense.

He couldn't tell Johnny about you. A fierce, possessive feeling in his chest told him not to. He knew Johnny had a thing for young, pretty things like you, and he refused to let you fall victim to his desires. In fact, he hated the thought of it.

But- who was he? Why was he being so protective over someone he barely knew? You were an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions. Why should Simon cockblock you and Johnny? So what if he wanted to shag you?

Mentally, he shook his head. No. Never. He'd lock you in his house if it meant keeping Jonny away from you. Even if Simon wasn't anything more than your client, he wasn't going to allow Johnny to get close to you. It would be too weird. You're his, after all.

...

Fuck.

He sighed and adjusted his position in his seat. You and Johnny didn't even know each other, for Christ's sake. He was overthinking all of this. You'd probably never even meet his team, why would you need to? You only ever have reason to spend time in his house, not on base. You just watch Riley, make breakfast in his kitchen, sleep on his couch, maybe his bed, if you're with the dog... using his bathroom, his shower...

He scowled at himself. Maybe hiring you was a huge mistake. You were too distracting.

Next ->

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[oldwritingm]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?

Some background about my cat first.

I (25F) have a pet cat named Max (not real name. It would be too identifiable if I used his real name). Max is a rescue. He had been abandoned by his previous owner because he would meow too loudly. This had happened several times, so he has been in and out of the shelter a lot. None of the previous owners had tried to figure out why he always meows so loudly, so I took him to a vet. It turns out that Max is deaf, so I don't blame him for meowing so loudly. He can't hear himself! He is scared of strangers and tends to hide, so I don't try to force him to come out if he doesn't want to. I also don't usually take pictures of him because the cameras and phones scare him. I just do what I can to respect his boundaries. Max isn't just a cat to me. He is my treasured family who brings a smile to my face everyday. I can't imagine life without him.

My friend, Amelia (22F) is trans. Her folks are transphobic and were not accepting of her when they found out. However, they had not kicked her out of her home right away. They had given her a week to pack her things and find a place to stay. I'm not sure what they were trying to do with that but another friend, Nina (24F) thinks that they did that as a manipulation tactic to get Amelia to retransition and Amelia thinks so too.

But the week had passed and Amelia couldn't find a place to stay. Nina had said she would have offered, but she lives in a small apartment that hardly had enough room for two people. So Amelia had asked out friend Ted (26M) who had also said he couldn't because he was housing his younger siblings since their parents had passed and he was struggling financially.

So that left me. But Amelia said she wouldn't be able to stay unless I got rid of Max. Why? Amelia is highly allergic to cats. Whenever she had come over to my place in the past, she had to take allergy medicine to keep from having severe allergies around Max. The allergies are bad enough that they could trigger an asthmatic attack. I told her that I refuse to get rid of Max because of his past with being abandoned. I do not want to become one of the people he distrusts, not after it took so long to get him to feel comfortable around me.

Amelia is upset with me for this and says that she doesn't want to have to always take allergy medicine. She said that I should get rid of Max because he is just a cat and his needs are not as important as hers when she could become homeless soon. I argued that he wasn't just a cat and was part of my family. Max would be staying no matter what. Amelia ended up renting a motel room, but she couldn't afford to stay for more than 4 nights. Nina ended up taking her in, but that has made her own living situation harder.

Amelia and Nina are calling me an asshole for choosing Max over giving Amelia shelter. They are saying that I am being a horrible ally and friend by valuing an animal over a human life. I don't think I made the wrong choice by choosing Max, but it doesn't feel great that they are starting to tell some other friends that I am being transphobic for not choosing Amelia. A part of me is saying that I should have chosen Amelia, but that same part is also saying I would fee guilty for being one of the people to also abandon Max if I chose to do that. Amelia and Nina barely talk to me aside from saying that I am being a transphobic asshole for "choosing an animal over a trans person's livelihood." I am thinking about just cutting them off now, but I'm afraid that would just lead to more backlash.

AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?

What are these acronyms?

[crushedsweets]

Love Bonnie interacting with Toby and Kate, curious on how she'd act with the others. Sorry if this sort of ask was answered before!

You guys flatter me too much . I will self indulgent talk under the cut

ok i havent really thought THAT hard about bonnie in Creeped because 1. i only put her in self-insert OC worlds with my friends 2. she's not that interesting to interact with 3. i'm putting her in place of the hypothetical Y/N i wouldve done for a Creeped visual novel (not dating sim...just visual novel LOL) ....maybe i'll redo this with the ghost bride bonnie i made for a slender mansion AU? she's a lot more interesting

HOWEVER. i think with the main cast it could be kinda funny. cuz bonnies just kinda weird and awkward and difficult to talk to. she's so quick to just go right home.

with Nina, i could see nina fawning over bonnie a little. "your hair color is so pretty do you know how many girls at the salon would kill for this?" "oh my god where did you get that top" "smell my perfume do you like it let me spray you!". bonnie would get overwhelmed and unsure if nina is making fun of her or being genuine, BUT i think the second nina's like "oh yeah im from california too" bonnies like ! OK WE R LIKE THE SAME ! i could see bonnie inviting nina out to a cafe to study but ninas writing fanfic the entire time (unbeknownst to bonnie). bonnie would get along the best with nina, on account of them both being friendly girls with similar interests

With clocky. bonnie would 1000% frequent the restaurant clocky works at, always order the same stack of pancakes, and nothing else comes from it. clocky would be alright with her cuz bon tips well + cleans up her table before leaving (mom was a server so she developed the habit + she's nervous about being a bad guest LOL). BUT . as you can see in the pic. i think it'd be funny if bon immediately called camila(my friends oc) and started going on about "oh my god you wouldve fucking loved my server she was so tall dude come visit me im gonna make you come here" and walked past clocky with a coat so she didnt even realize it was her. dumbass

bonnie would have 0 reason to interact with jack... but bonnie has her issues with ghosts that land her freaking out in forests trying to get away from them. and she'd freak the fuck out if she saw jack, cuz bonnies anxiety/nerves/paranoia is already maxxed out all the time. now imagine a 6'7 grey man in an ominious mask being the only person youve seen in your involuntary hike through the woods after having ghosts swear theyre gonna kill you. shes gonna throw up

she'd have 0 reason to talk to jeff too. they would never be in similar circles(not that bonnie really Has a circle), but. i like the idea of them constantly coincidentally getting stuck on the same train/bus and it being hell on earth. for her, at least. he dgaf. maybe he had plans to kill her one night and started following her and something went wrong and he gave up. dunno

i legit struggle to get in-depth with bonnie and crp characters cuz she's just. so not in their realm. she legit just exists and has bad ghost shit happen to her and is like Guys this is really unfair.

[megalony]

Model Patients

This is an Evan x Reader x Eddie imagine, based on a lovely anon request, kind of like my Doctor Diaz fic. I hope you will all like it I loved writing this. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n), Eddie and all their kids bar one get food poisoning, Evan has to look after them all. And he loves it.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie leaned forward and slumped his elbows down on the table, but his eyes flitted to the right to look at the girls sat next to him.

The sight of (Y/n) swaying Nina from side to side in her arms made Eddie's lips curve up into a grin. It was something that Eddie and Evan would never get tired of seeing, which was a good thing considering the three of them had five kids in total now.

And Nina was by far their easiest baby, she didn't fuss, she barely cried and she settled for her naps almost straight away. And she didn't care which parent or person was holding her. All the team had been able to hold and cuddle Nina for ages and she didn't fuss or cry or scream out.

When they had Lois, she was attached to (Y/n), if Eddie or Evan held her for too long she would cry out for her mum. And Eddie knew that had hurt Evan. She was his first baby and he couldn't cradle her all night long like he wanted.

Pete had been a fussy baby, but he had colic so he was always unsettled and crying because he was in pain. They wouldn't have been able to bring him out to a restaurant like this when he was one month old like they could Nina.

Grace had been a daddy's girl through and through and she still was. If Eddie passed her to Evan, she didn't fuss. But if he passed her to (Y/n) she would wake up immediately and if Bobby held her, she knew instantly that it wasn't one of her dads and she would scream.

"Daddy…"

Shifting his eyes from (Y/n) to the highchair resting between them, Eddie smiled softly at Grace. She dropped the children's menu they had put in front of her and held her arms out expectingly.

She made grabby fists in his direction and began to whimper, shedding superficial tears until Eddie sighed and gave in. He unclipped the buckle around her waist and lifted her out the highchair. He knew she wouldn't sit in it for long. They hadn't even ordered yet and she was making a fuss so she could be cuddled instead.

"Come here then," He murmured as he lifted her up and sat her down on his lap, letting her burrow into his chest. Her fingers started to trace over the tattoo on his right arm and she smiled when Eddie leaned his chin on the top of her head.

"What do you fancy, baby?" (Y/n) shifted Nina a little higher in the crook of her arm and looked down at Pete who was sat next to her, tucked up into her side.

Evan was next to Pete, Lois was sat on his lap and Chris was wedged happily between both dads.

Pete shrugged his shoulders and took anothher look over the menu, but he didn't know what to have. He didn't always like what was on the children's menu, he wanted to be like Chris and Lois who always chose of the adult menu. Even though Lois was only one year older than Pete; she was six and he was five.

"Wanna share some pasta?" (Y/n) turned and pushed her chair back so she could ease the newborn down into the pram behind her. Nina was settled now and she'd had a bottle just before they came out, she should sleep through now until they got her back home. And if not, (Y/n) knew Evan would be up and over to take her before her or Eddie could move an inch.

When Pete nodded and smiled, (Y/n) put the menu back in the middle of the table and looked round at the rest of her family.

"Pasta." Chris agreed and smiled when Eddie nodded and muttered "We'll have that too," Referring to him and Grace. She was a fussy eater but she would pick at whatever Eddie ate and if they shared it, she would be more inclined to eat.

"We having pasta too, papa?"

"You can have that if you want baby, I'll have cottage pie." Evan let Lois shuffle back into him and lean her head back on his shoulder.

Pasta was the main dish Bobby had been cooking on almost every shift this week and Evan was done with it. He'd had spag bol, mac and cheese, carbonara. He was finished with pasta, the sight was making him feel queasy and he needed something else.

"That makes you the odd one out." Eddie commented with a grin while Evan rolled his eyes and pretended to laugh.

He was more than happy being the odd one out if the rest of them wanted to get red sauce stained all down their clothes and make a mess while they were out in public.

Evan would rather play it safe.

***

(Y/n) pressed her palm into the wall and used it as leverage to propell herself from the bedroom. Her feet crumpled beneath her and her legs felt like they had turned to jelly as she stumbled down the hall towards the bathroom.

Her forehead pressed against the wood and she gave it a shove but her throat tightened when the door didn't open. She bashed her knuckles on the door and slumped her body against it, wondering which of her family was held up inside.

"Occupied." Eddie's grumbled response came through the door and (Y/n) couldn't help but cry in response.

"I- I- Eddie please! Emergency!" (Y/n)'s gurgled response and the way she started to gag and croak told Eddie she was going to be sick. Whether or not he opened the door, (Y/n) would be sick and she would rather throw up in the sink or in the very least, on the bathroom floor rather than out here on the carpet.

As soon as the lock clicked, (Y/n) stumbled in but she froze when she turned towards the toilet.

Chris was in here too. The twelve-year-old was knelt down on the floor, hunched over with his hands on the toilet and his head in the bowl.

And then there was Eddie. He was sat with his back against the wall on the left side of the door, his feet wedged up against the bottom of the toilet. His arms were bound around his legs that were coiled up to his stomach and his forehead had been resting on his knees until (Y/n) rushed in.

He looked terrible. His skin had lost all colour, he was reduced to an ungodly shade of grey (Y/n) only ever saw on him when he was ill or when he had been in hospital after he got shot. His eyes were rimmed with dark purple and black streaks. His lips were no longer a loving shade of ruby red but were now pale and almost hazy blue. And his body was shaking back and forth against the wall.

(Y/n) couldn't spend long looking at one of her boys. She spared Chris and Eddie a glance before she turned to the right and grabbed the sink just in time to throw up. Her chest imbedded into the edge of the sink and her fingers scratched into the cold porcelean.

She coughed, heaved and gasped as she tried to breathe but couldn't fathom how when she couldn't stop throwing up.

"Mum sick too?" Chris lifted his head from the toilet and looked tiredly over his shoulder. He too had no colour to his skin, his complexion was pale, his eyes were half lidded and he was starting to sweat.

A quiet whine left Chris's lips when Eddie nudged him to the side, grunting as he parted his knees to the side and leant over to throw up into the toilet.

Eddie spat into the toilet and flopped back, letting his head bang against the wall with a loud thud. He gasped for breath, but when he looked across at (Y/n) and noticed her barely able to keep herself stood up, he flinched.

"Oh God… Evan! Babe!" Eddie hollered as loudly as he could but his voice was croaky and his throat felt inflamed.

He let his left arm slump back over his knees that were pinned into his throbbing stomach. But he moved his right hand, clenching it into a fist so he could ram his fist on the wall. He hit the wall a few times, loud enough to make an echo course throughout the house. They needed some help.

"What's… going on?"

The door opened again but Evan didn't dare step inside. He darted his eyes between the boys and (Y/n) who finally pulled away from the sink. But Evan shivered when he watched her knees quake and she used the sink as leverage to lower herself down to the floor. Her legs curled beneath her and she let her head press against the sink that felt refreshing and cold against her clammy skin.

"You okay?" The way Eddie tilted his head to one side and looked up at Evan made him shiver.

"Me? I'm good, but you two look like death on legs."

"I th- I think we've got food poisoning, Pete's sick too. Go c-check the girls." Eddie grimaced and closed his eyes when the bathroom light started to become far too bright for his eyes.

If Evan was alright, Eddie would guess they all got some sort of food poisoning from the pasta they ate last night. They all had the same thing and if Evan was fine, then that seemed to cement things.

When Chris started crying out for Eddie, he practically crawled into the boy's room. He found Chris struggling to get out of bed, feeling horrid and his stomach aching. And poor Pete was curled up in bed, shivering and whimpering saying his stomach hurt.

"Oh fuck, okay hang tight." Evan spun on his heels and darted out of the bathroom. He would be back to carry them all back to bed in a minute, once he'd checked on the rest of the kids.

He poked his head around the boy's door since it was open and he wanted to see if Pete had been sick or if he was still asleep. He had about four teddies cuddled to his chest, he was shaking and the little whimpers he let out told Evan that he was indeed awake. But he was somewhat settled for now and Evan would come back to give him some medicine soon.

Bypassing their room, Evan headed into the girl's room and flicked on the light. He didn't like what he was faced with.

"Papa, I don't feel well." Lois whimpered, nuzzling her face into the pillow but she couldn't get back to sleep now. Her tummy hurt, it felt like her insides were twisting in knots and she wasn't sure if she needed to go to the toilet or throw up.

Evan couldn't help the way his lips pulled into a grimace when he looked between Lois and the floor.

Sometime during the night, she had thrown up on the floor and clearly, she didn't remember or realise she'd done it.

"I know baby girl, no one's well today. Um, why don't you go hop in our bed while I sort out? Mum and daddy will be back in bed in a minute."

His eyes followed her as she groggily sat up and shuffled out of bed, but the moment Lois looked down and realised she had thrown up during the night, her face fell. Her lips parted and tears welled in her eyes before she hurriedly looked up at Evan. "I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to."

"It's alright baby, hey it's okay. Go get Pete and tell him to get in our bed, I want you all where I can look after you." When she shuffled past him, Evan leaned over and kissed the top of her head. He didn't want her apologising when she couldn't help it.

He figured all his family were going to be held up in bed for the next few days and he was going to have to call Bobby and ask for a few days off. If all the kids- minus Nina who was only a month old- were ill and both Eddie and (Y/n) were out of action, that left Evan to care for them. Something he secretly loved doing.

His attention turned to the cot on the other side of the room and he headed over to see if Grace was okay or not. She had eaten about half of Eddie's dinner last night so Evan would guess she was going to be sick too.

"Papa," Grace tried to stand up in her cot and she held her arms out for him. She looked very flushed and her eyes were red and puffy as she sobbed. He knew she had been fine when he put her to bed last night and when (Y/n) checked on her this morning while she was up with Nina.

"Come here, baby-cake."

Reaching down, Evan gently scooped her up but he grimaced and his nose crinkled when she threw up on him. Right on his chest. Right in the centre of his shirt. He thanked God he had gone to bed in pyjamas last night and not just his boxers or he might have thrown up too.

A horrid scream gurgled past Grace's lips when Evan set her back down in the cot. "Baby- shh just one second, please." He carefully reeled his shirt over his head and dumped it on the floor, he would get Grace in bed and then clean up. "I'm here, okay I'm here. Let's go get everyone else, you're all having a day in bed."

"With you?"

"I'm playing doctor today, baby-cake."

Evan headed out the room but he juggled Grace higher on his chest when she wrapped her arms around his neck. She wasn't going to let him put her down. He aimed for the bathroom and his lips pressed into a thin line when he looked between them all.

"Baby, sit with daddy look. Careful, she's just thrown up on me." He leaned down and eased Grace into Eddie's arms.

A groan tumbled past Eddie's lips when Grace sat on his stomach and flopped forward onto his chest. Her head tucked beneath his chin and she scrunched his shirt up in her hands, sniffling into his neck. He moved his hand to cradle her bum and rubbed his other palm up and down her back.

"Shh, s'okay. Dad's gonna look after us all today, hm?" He pressed his lips to the top of Grace's head and when he looked up at Evan, he saw him grin in their direction.

(Y/n) coiled both arms around her waist and pressed down until she was about to explode. Her stomach was physically twisting. Her throat burned like she had swallowed bleach and she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep but her body was aching too much for that to happen. She was in agony.

She felt tears burning in her eyes when Evan crouched down beside her and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek. At least with them all having food poisoning, it couldn't be passed onto Evan or Nina. So he could kiss and cuddle them all he liked and not make himself sick. It was a good job he had chosen something different to eat last night.

His arms wound around her and he effortlessly scooped her up. He could see from how she was practically laid on the floor that she wasn't going to be able to walk back to bed. And he didn't want to waste time trying to support her to walk when he could just carry her instead.

"Eight of us in this house, and only me and the baby are alright."

***

"There we go. You're a good girl, hm?" A tender smile flooded Evan's face as he looked down at the newborn in his arms.

He let his weight fall back until his hips bumped into the kitchen counter and he crossed one leg over the other. He had Nina cuddled up in his left arm, her eyes half-lidded as she was starting to fall back into another nap which didn't surprise Evan. While he had been bustling about the house for the last hour, she had been awake and gurgling into his chest.

He put the washing on, cleaned up and tidied all the bedrooms and made something to eat. He had been out for a drive a little while ago and Nina had slept through the whole ride.

Carefully, he removed the bottle from her lips and set it down on the side so he could shift Nina up onto his chest. He felt her hand begin to tap against his chest while her chin perched on his shoulder and her soft breaths fanned against his neck.

Even though he had been looking after everyone in the house, it had been a little strange but wonderful for Evan to get sone one to one time with Nina. (Y/n) and Eddie could barely stay awake other than to throw up or groan and shuffle around in bed. They were occupied trying to settle the rest of the kids and keep them calm.

So Nina had been Evan's priority because he was fine to change her and feed her and coo and entertain her.

"We're alright aren't we, baby girl? We didn't eat the pasta." He murmured softly while he smoothed his hand up and down her back and turned around to face the kitchen counter. "Alright, we need some medicine for everyone, and you can go lay with mummy."

His left arm moved up and down to sway Nina against his chest and shoulder and he grabbed the medicine bottles from the cupboard. He had been dosing them all up every four hours but Pete and Grace were horrid when it came to taking their medicine. And so was (Y/n) when she threw it up earlier and Eddie felt drowsy after taking his painkillers.

Once all the medicine was laid out on the counter, Evan moved his right hand to cradle the back of Nina's head and he walked out of the kitchen, past the dining room and into he lounge.

Yesterday, everyone had been held up in bed and they mostly slept and threw up. But when Pete and Lois projectile vomited all over the bed this morning, Evan evicted them. They were lucky that they had two large sofas in the living room and one of them was a sofa bed. So Evan had pulled the bed out and everyone was in the lounge. Curtains closed, Disney movies stacked and layered the floor and blankets and pillows were strewn about everywhere.

His heart softened when he looked at his unwell, bed-ridden family.

Eddie was wedged in the left corner, half propped up by at least three pillows. He had been burning up all night so he was laid in his boxers and nothing else which was a sight Evan was happily drinking in whenever he could. He had Grace curled up on his chest, her head tucked right against his neck under his chin and his arms were wound around her.

Pete and Lois were squashed in the middle, sniffing and squirming every now and then. Neither of them had slept well during the night. Chris was laid across the foot of the bed, propped up on two pillows as he laid on his stomach to try and relieve the pain he felt.

And (Y/n) was huddled right in the other corner of the bed, her head buried in a pillow. Her arms were wound around her waist, her knees were slightly coiled up and she had a blanket tucked around her since she was cold and the others were burning. She was wearing a pair of Evan's jogging bottoms and one of his grey lounge shirts.

"She's having a nap, do you want her for a bit?"

A small, strained smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips and she nodded, if a bit gruffly and held her arms out. She hadn't spent a lot of time with Nina this last day.

She let Evan lean over her and when he was close enough, she tilted her head back and pressed her lips against his neck. She breathed in his scent and nudged her nose into his skin which caused a laugh to vibrate through his chest and down to her. He eased Nina onto her chest and kissed her head before he leaned up and kissed (Y/n)'s lips.

(Y/n) tilted her head down and pressed her chapped lips to the top of Nina's head who was quietly yawning and smacking her lips together.

She stayed cuddled up with Nina but she lifted her gaze to watch Evan drift out of the room and come back a few moments later.

Medicine time.

"Alright, let's get you all sorted. Chris?"

The eldest gingerly lifted his head and pushed up onto his knees on the bed so he wasn't lying down. His hands moved to his knees and his nose scrunched up when Evan held out the small syringe of calpol medicine. He grimaced and shook his head after he'd taken both doses and quickly flopped down onto his stomach. He knew the rules, they had to let their medicine settle for at least five minutes before they had a drink to wash it down.

"Lois, baby?" Evan sat down on the end of the bed near Eddie's feet and motioned for Lois to move over to him but she shook her head. She shifted to the side and tried to burrow herself under Eddie's arm.

"Medicine or you go in your own bed tonight." Eddie warned and shifted his arms tighter around Grace so Lois couldn't hide behind him. She couldn't have the privillege of staying here with them now or tonight if she didn't take her meds. She would only feel worse if she refused.

They were all still being sick. They managed lunch and dinner yesterday but started throwing up during the night again. And both Eddie and (Y/n) weren't doing well on intaking any fluids.

With a grumble and a whine that made her nose scrunch up and look like (Y/n), Lois crawled down the middle of the bed until she was slumped next to Evan's knee.

The moment she took the medicine, Lois started to cough and her throat tightened as she began to gag. Evan looped his hands beneath her arms and lifted her up until she was stood between his legs. He let her slump her head on his shoulder and he smoothed his hand up and down her back to try and coax her to calm down. If she panicked and gagged she would definitely be sick.

"Good girl." He kept her leant on his chest while he filled another syringe and waved his hand for Pete to come over to him.

Pete could barely keep his eyes open. He leaned forward with his legs crossed beneath him and his arms limp on his lap. He managed to keep his head up, coughed as he took his medicine, then flopped back down with a groan.

"Okay, and one for baby-cake." Evan held out the syringe to Eddie since the two of them were cuddled together.

"Have this baby, then you can have some juice." Eddie tilted his head to the side and brushed his finger over Grace's cheek to coax her into opening her eyes. He didn't mind her staying curled up on his chest as long as she took her medicine.

It worked to his advantage that she didn't seem to know what was going on as she was half asleep. when Eddie pressed the medicine to her lips, she accepted it before she started to whimper and tuck herself more into his neck.

"Now you two."

"No, Evan I can't, I- I'll throw it up."

"Mi amor, if the kids had to then so do you." Eddie flopped his head back against the pillow and turned to look over at (Y/n). He knew she was worried about being sick but she had to try.

(Y/n) grimaced and made sure Nina was settled on her chest before she took the spoon Evan held out to her. With her eyes closed, (Y/n) chugged the medicine as quickly as she could and shivered when she felt her stomach twist, she really felt sick now.

Her hand pressed to her mouth and she tilted her head back, shoulders quaking as she swallowed at least three times so she didn't throw it up.

Reaching out, Eddie took the spoon and downed the medicine, shaking his head and cracking his jaw as he groaned at the taste. But he would take anything if it stopped him throwing up and having the taste of acid and bile at the back of his throat.

"See, you've all been model patients." Evan perched his chin on Lois's shoulder and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek to make her smile. "I got some fluid IVs from the station earlier, like you said. Want me to hook you both up to one? I got those things too… diuretics, since none of you are keeping any fluids down."

Evan had gone to the station to have a word with Bobby, just to make sure Eddie had the rest of the week off and Evan had the next four days. While he was there, he let the team steal Nina for a cuddle and he went in the back and found some saline bags and IV lines and needles. He knew neither of his partners were managing to keep much fluids down and they had thrown up all their meals yesterday.

He needed some in case the kids got any worse too. And he found diuretics to give to all of them except Grace as she was only a toddler. It would give all of them some vitamins and essentials and keep them boosted with all the throwing up they had done between them.

"Hook us up, I feel like shit."

Evan reached his hand down and bashed Eddie's thigh, muttering a quiet 'language' and frowning playfully at him.

"Alright, whoever wants a bath shuffle off the bed and wait in the hall please. That way we have no wires getting pulled out." A bath might make the kids feel better and more inclined to sleep. And it would let Eddie and (Y/n) have a while to themselves to be on a drip without anyone wriggling around or lying on the wires and pulling them out.

Lois tiredly shuffled out of Evan's arms and flopped down to her feet but she could barely hold herself up. She shuffled into the hall while Pete gruffly followed along, dragging his feet behind him.

"Go get a bath, girlie." Eddie gently pulled Grace off his chest and leaned over to set her down on her feet. She swayed as she waddled over and took Lois's hand, clinging to her sister until Evan came back. She wanted one of her parents, she wanted love and attention and cuddles galore.

"Babe…" (Y/n) shuffled across the bed and moved her arms towards Eddie who faintly smiled and reached out for Nina. He was fine with needles whereas (Y/n) wasn't a fan and it made her feel lightheaded. When she had her bloods taken at the doctors, the boys always had to go with her as she had a tendency to faint.

(Y/n) shuffled down and tucked her face into Eddie's shoulder, kissing his bare skin as she dragged her blanket higher around her. A smile pulled at her lips when Chris moved up and snuggled himself down into the corner where (Y/n) had just been sitting so she was now between two of her boys.

Tilting his head to the side, Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of (Y/n)'s head and started to run one hand up and down Nina's back. She was well and truly off to sleep now but she could stay with them a while longer and have a cuddle before she went in her cot.

When Evan came back with the bag of goodies Hen had graceously helped him rob from the station, he sat down next to Eddie's thigh. He took his chance to cup Eddie's chin in his hand and tilt his head up for a kiss. He was overjoyed that food poisoning couldn't be contagious like a sickness bug, it meant Evan could kiss and snuggle his partners all he liked without getting ill himself.

"I look like shit," Eddie murmured with a raised brow. He knew he looked far from his best and he felt like he was on death's door, but the goofy smile and the flash of teeth made Eddie's stomach flip.

"Hm, you look good to me." Evan stole another kiss and took the chance to bite down on Eddie's lip just to make him groan. "Where'd you want it?"

A tired, lopsided smile pulled at Eddie's lips and he kept his left hand on Nina's back while he held his right hand out to Evan. If the IV was on his right hand, he could rest his arm on the edge of the sofa bed or on a cushion so none of the kids bumped into him or pulled it out by mistake. And it meant he could loop his left arm around (Y/n) or the kids if he wanted to.

Eddie closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the top of (Y/n)'s head. Breathing into her hair and focusing on the feeling of her lips pressing hollow kisses up and down his shoulder and over as much of his neck as she could reach.

He stayed still and patient while Evan swiped an anticeptic wipe across the back of his hand and poked around to find a good vein. He found one and got out a needle and cap.

"Here you go, babe." His thumb pressed down on the back of Eddie's hand over the vein and he carefully inserted the needle. He tore off two pieces of medical tape to secure it in place and attached the fluid line.

Evan took the opportunity to lean over Eddie, give him another searing kiss and place the IV bag on the back of the sofa behind the pillows. He made sure the wire wasn't tangled or crumpled and it was wide open. Being behind the pillows stopped any of the kids from playing with it or bursting it when they came back.

"Your turn," Evan spoke gently and smiled when (Y/n) placed her right hand on his thigh while her left hand stayed curled around Eddie's bicep. She kept her cheek resting on his shoulder and shuffled a bit higher so her lips and nose could brush against Eddie's neck. She didn't want to see the needle go into her skin.

She felt Evan swab the back of her hand and poke around to find a suitable vein. But the moment the needle capped into her vein, (Y/n) could feel her stomach giving an awful twist and she scrunched her nose and pushed further into Eddie.

It felt like her pulse was throbbing under every inch of her skin and her head started to pound and feel like it was building up ready to explode.

"All done-"

Eddie groaned and brought his knees up near his stomach out of shock and instinct when (Y/n)'s forehead bashed into the side of his neck. He struggled to take a proper breath and he tried to keep his eyes on Evan when he felt (Y/n) slump and loll against his left arm.

She'd fainted.

"Oh God, come here," Evan moved the IV tube around the back of (Y/n) and tucked the saline bag behind the pillows next to Eddie's one.

He slipped a hand beneath her neck and Eddie's shoulder and gently reeled her up away from Eddie so she could slump back into the pillows. Evan expected a similar reaction, especially considering she didn't do well with needles and she hadn't eaten anything which would make her more lightheaded than usual.

He gently eased her back into the den of pillows and let her head slump to the right near Eddie. She would come around in a moment.

"Look after your mum for me while I do bath time." Evan murmured as he leaned over and kissed the top of Chris's head.

Chris leaned to the right, wrapping an arm around (Y/n)'s waist and leaning his head on her arm. He grinned when Evan kissed (Y/n)'s temple, then moved to do the same to Eddie and Nina before he climbed off the bed. Three of their five kids were waiting patiently to get a bath.

And when Evan looked across at them, his smile softened like butter. Lois was swaying back and forth on her heels, trying to stay awake and upright but she looked like she was about to collapse. Pete was leaning back against the wall with an arm around his stomach and his thumb between his teeth. Then there was Grace. The toddler was sat on the floor with tired eyes and her arms stretched up in Evan's direction.

"Bathroom, troop."

He leaned down and scooped Grace up so he could sit her on his hip while Lois and Pete walked in front of him towards the bathroom. Their movements were sluggish and their feet were shuffling along behind them, they were growing tired.

It made Evan's heart soften to see Lois and Pete slump down on the bath mat and lean their heads on the edge of the bath. They looked just like they were about to fall asleep and it made him smile. He turned on the bath and let Lois add half a bottle of bubbles.

"Let's get some pjs," He spoke quietly into Grace's hair and headed into the girl's room to find them some clothes to change into.

Evan crouched down in front of the bath, pressing his knees into the bottom of the tub while he turned off the taps and nodded for Pete and Lois to climb in. He tried to unlatch Grace's arms from his neck but she held tight, tucking her face into his neck as she grumbled.

"No."

"Oh, come on girlie, you'll feel better." Evan leaned over and fought hard to undo Grace's hold over his neck that was beginning to ache. Finally, she seemed to relent and flopped her arms down into the bath, splashing bubbles up high into the air.

Grimacing, Evan pulled back and sighed. He reeled his shirt up over his head and tossed it into the wash basket. They could splash him all they wanted today and he wouldn't fuss, as long as the kids felt better and smiled.

His arms folded on the side of the bath and he perched his chin on his arms, smiling when Pete turned around and placed a wad of bubbles right on the end of his nose.

"Thanks, buddy." He mumbled softly and reached a hand down into the water to grab a fistful of bubbles and splatter them onto Pete's hair.

His eyes cast down to Grace who was sat in the centre of the bath, right in front of him and he frowned when she reached up and patted his cheek. "Shave." She whispered, causing Evan to grin despite his confusion.

"I shaved this morning, I'll have you know." He moved his hand to run along his chin and down his neck. Evan shaved every morning. He didn't like facial hair, he never tried to grow a beard because the one time he did when Lois was a toddler, she cried when she saw his beard. Since then, he always shaved.

Whereas the kids didn't seem to mind when Eddie grew out his facial hair. But they were all used to Eddie having stubble most of the time so a beard wasn't a lot different. Both men had taken to shaving every day recently.

"No, shave."

His lips curled into a frown and his eyes narrowed down on his little girl, but a quiet grumble left his lips when he realised what she meant.

Grace found a handful of bubbles and smeared them all along Evan's face, lips and down his neck until he was coughing and snorting lavender bubbles. She then dabbed her hand in the water, and very carefully started to brush her index finger through the bubbles. She was pretending to shave him.

Evan stayed still and silent, closing his eyes for a moment when grace swiped the bubbles rather close to his eyes over his cheekbones. And he tilted his head back to let her clean the bubbles from down his neck.

Her gentle touch was soft and rather precise and delicate and Evan found himself smiling brightly. He was so used to the kids messing and tracing over all his various tattoos, but this was different.

"All done." Grave dipped both her hands in the warm water and planted them down on Evan's face, patting him like she was pretending to apply cream to his face.

"Is that better, baby-cake?"

Grace nodded with a tired smile before she leaned her head forward and pressed her cheek down into his arm. She curled both hands around Evan's arm that was dangling in the water and leaned on his other arm. Her eyes fell closed and she curled up in the water as if she was lying in his arms.

Leaning down, Evan kissed the top of her head and slid both hands into the water. One arm stayed around her front while his other hand reached out to mess with the bath toys Lois was pushing around the water.

The eldest girl was laid back so the water was up to her chin and she was tossing the rubber toys back and forth, but she wasn't really bothered with them. She was too tired to play which told Evan she really was ill. And Pete wasn't much better.

He leaned over and slumped himself against Evan's free arm and closed his eyes.

"Have we all had enough?" Evan mumbled quietly, looking around the three of them who all nodded. "Alright, one… two… three." He helped each of them out and handed them a towel, but a sigh passed through his lips when he looked down at Pete.

He flopped across Evan's lap, curling up with his arms around his middle and his head on Evan's jogging bottoms. The material turned a dark shade of grey and Evan tried not to grimace at the feeling of his bottoms now sticking to his legs. He knew Pete couldn't help it, he was sick and almost asleep.

"No… no! Papa mine!" Grace tried to nudge Pete off of Evan's lap but she stopped when Evan wrapped a towel around her and moved her to stand at his side.

"No, jealous bum, you can share me."

He wrapped a towel over Pete who seemed content just to wait and lie where he was. While Lois got herself dried and dressed, Evan dried Grace and looked around for her pull-up and pyjamas.

Grace flopped down on her back and kicked her legs out at Evan with the last little bit of energy she had. A smile on her face and a squeal passing her lips when Evan caught both her ankles in one hand and tugged her closer. He slipped on her pull-up and fought to get her into her onesie when she wriggled around on her back like a worm, just to wind him up and be cheeky.

"Go find daddy." Evan murmured as he lifted Grace to her feet and sent her on her way with a kiss on her temple.

She followed Lois out the bathroom, both respectively shouting for (Y/n) and Eddie.

"Pete… and you're asleep."

With his hands beneath Pete's arms, he carefully shuffled Pete off his lap and onto the bath mat in front of him. He dried him off and easily got him into his pyjamas while Pete barely turned his head or made a sound.

"I guess you're mine this afternoon buddy, hm?" Evan carefully lifted Pete up and settled him down on his chest with his face tucked into Evan's neck. He smoothed his hand up and down Pete's back as he walked down the hall and back into the living room towards the rest of his family.

A burning smile flooded Evan's face when he looked over them all. Eddie still had Nina curled up on his chest, but he now had Grace under his right arm and she had one hand on Nina's back as if she was soothing the youngest girl to sleep. (Y/n) had Lois curled up between her legs and Chris still attached to her left side.

Moving over, Evan sat down next to Chris and did his best to wedge himself into the tiny space at the end between Chris and the arm of the sofa. He kept Pete curled up on his chest and draped a blanket around them both.

"I think I'm rather good at playing doctor, don't you?"

[paradiseismine]

experienced and older (2 years older) female reader x virgin mike wheeler, their encounter started with an innocent question from mike about kissing and led to so much more...

Good kisser - Mike Wheeler x reader

Pairing: virgin!Mike Wheeler (Stranger Things) x experienced!f!reader

Warnings: slightly softer smut, virgin Mike, small age gap (reader is 2 years older than him)

Love note from Nina: YES. you read me like a book, anon. Mike Wheeler is all awkward and innocent, but also horny and needy as hell, and this is where it’s at. I had so much fun writing this, it’s almost criminal.

It was summer. You had built quite the reputation for yourself ever since you moved to Hawkins and all the boys wanted something with you: the foreign girl with the cute accent, who always had stories about her travels and was so smart, mysterious and captivating in everything she did. You were a novelty, bringing your sexual liberation and lack of prejudice under your arm as you walked into that small town.

On the other hand, you were feeling kinda bored lately. Craving connection, romance, something exciting to get you out of your comfort zone. You couldn’t possibly imagine what would happen between you and Mike Wheeler, that nerdy lanky boy, when you first got acquainted. He was friends with your neighbor, a ginger girl named Max, who would occasionally drop by at your place to talk and maybe watch a movie together. You didn’t know much about him, but you always thought he was a cutie.

That’s exactly what was crossing your mind on that Saturday evening: Max and her boyfriend, Lucas, were over at your place for pizza, and Mike tagged along. Michael Wheeler had just turned 18 and was a senior in Hawkins High, the city in which he had lived his whole life; whereas you were pushing 20, having lived with the circus and moving around with it since the age of 12.

“Babe, maybe we should get home soon, mom might get worried” Max told Lucas, her hand gently caressing his as they sat next to you on the couch.

“Right, I don’t want to disappoint Mrs. Mayfield” he laughed, standing up. “Thank you for everything, y/n, you’re one of our nicest friends…”

“Should I get jealous then?” Mike joked, standing up as well. Max and Lucas bid you and him goodbye before leaving. Only you and Mike remained on your living room now.

“Maybe I should get going too, I don’t wanna be a bother, you know…” he licked his lips in a shy manner.

“You’re not a bother at all, silly” you smiled at him. “If you wanna stay, then you should stay… We haven’t gotten the chance to get to know each other properly yet, have we? I’d love to talk if you wish to stay a bit longer…”

Mike couldn’t even be discreet about it, he was smiling ear to ear at the thought that you desired his company, that you were ok with sitting there, just the two of you, for God knows how much longer.

You tried to keep the conversation going, wanting to prolong his stay at your house.

The two of you sat side by side on the couch and you asked him about his friends, his family, his story, everything. At some point, the conversation shifted back to your life.

“Anyone that’s caught your eye here in Hawkins?” he asked, studying your face. “I know the boys talk a lot about how interesting you are…”

“The boys that came up to me so far didn’t make me feel anything special, I guess…” you shrugged. “How about you? Any girl that made your heart beat faster, Mikey?”

He laughed, coming off a bit nervous. “Not really, no… Well, uh, actually…”

You smiled. A pretty boy like Mike must always have someone pining over him.

“There’s something I… I’ve been meaning to ask you, you know…” he seemed to be working up the courage to continue talking. “Y/n, I was… I was just wondering…” he stuttered, his sweaty palms slowly rubbing against one another nervously. “Well, you’re an older girl… Not like, super older, I mean, we’re just two years apart, and you look gorgeous, you’re stunning, I mean…”

“Mike” you reassured him, head slightly tilted to the side, caressing his upper arm. “It’s ok… What is it that you’re trying to tell me?”

“How does one know if they’re a good kisser?” he blurted out, speaking a bit too fast, but you were able to understand him.

Your mouth opened slightly in what turned out to be a smile, as you tried not to chuckle at him, and not give him any signs on how ADORABLE that question was.

“Hm…” you rested your chin on your palm. “Kissing is supposed to bring connection between two people who like each other, or that are attracted to each other, at least… So if you kiss someone and sense that you’re both in the same rhythm and wanting the same thing at that moment, then you’re a good kisser.”

“Oh” he answered, thinking. “Could you be a bit more… Specific, maybe? I think I have some other questions.”

As you two talked, it became obvious - not only you were far more experienced than him sexually/amorously, but also just in general. Mike was a small town boy, surprisingly still quite innocent regarding girls and intimacy. He had never watched any porn VHS, neither stolen any of his father’s Playboy magazines.

Heck, the only time he’d ever seen a girl naked was when he accidentally walked in on his friend changing. Not only was that awkward as hell, but that was IT. He had never gone any further than a few pecks with a girl. Nothing, really.

There was something so hot about the idea of teaching him how to kiss, how to touch a girl properly… You could feel your legs softening like spaghetti just thinking about it.

“Would you… want me to teach you?” you finally got brave enough to ask. “You know, kissing and stuff like that?”

“Would you… do that for me?” His eyes widened. You were so pretty, he couldn’t believe you were offering him such a thing.

“Of course… You’re beautiful, Mikey. It’d be a pleasure to kiss you.” you chuckled. It was funny to you that a boy like him would think so badly of himself for having a certain set of interests or not being good at sports.

He tucked a hair strand behind your ear, before lingering his touch on your cheek and slowly leaning in. You smiled briefly and leaned in as well, closing your eyes to savor the moment.

You kissed him chastely, just lightly touching your lips to his, testing the waters. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, so you proceeded. His lips were soft and perfect for some love bites, but you had to take it slow.

Once he appeared more accustomed to the touch, you parted his lips softly and slid your tongue in between them. He let out a little surprised whimper, but didn’t stop you. You could feel his heartbeat quickening, as did yours.

“Is this okay?” you spoke softly, your hand caressing his cheek, eyes carefully studying his face. “Does it feel good when I kiss you?”

Mike’s cheeks were tinted a dark shade of pink, and felt pretty hot against your palm.

“Really good” he whispered, not being able to look into your eyes. “Can I… Can we do it again?”

“Of course, love. C’mere” you put your lips back to his, still keeping a lighter touch, afraid you’d scare him off.

You kissed him once again, more rhythmically this time, a much wetter and much more intense kiss. In no time, you two were fully making out. For someone who was apparently afraid of not being a good kisser, so much so that he asked for tutoring, Mike was definitely a straight A student. That being said, he was probably ready for the next chapter of the book.

You let go of the kiss slowly, putting your hand to his nape and grabbing some of his hair gently in your hand. He seemed confused for a second, but shivered immediately as your lips touched his neck with open mouthed kisses. Your lips traveled up and down his slender neck, then went all the way up to his ear, nibbling softly on his earlobe. Mike’s entire body quivered under your touch, as a faint, timid moan escaped his swollen red lips.

“Is this ok, Mikey? Do you want to… you know, keep going?”

“I-I’d love to, if that’s what you want too”, he said, in a tone that still sounded a bit like a moan.

“Stand up, will you?” you asked him. He obliged immediately, and you stood up as well. You put him up against the wall and stood on your tip toes in order to reach for his lips with your own. Your chests, now glued to each other, fluttered as you continued to kiss passionately. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, and that made you, somehow, even wetter than you already were.

Mike put his arms around your waist, pulling your body impossibly closer to his in a clumsy movement. His skin was absurdly hot and flushed, as if he had gotten a fever. You could tell he was feeling a bit more comfortable now, as his hands started to wander.

“Is… is this okay?” he asked shyly as his right hand had reached further down your back, mere inches from your butt. “Can I touch you?”

“Of course, Mikey” you rubbed your nose against his, playfully. “Everything is ok. If anything is not, I’ll let you know, don’t worry. Just follow your heart, do what you feel like doing. Can you do that?”

“I’ll… I’ll try…” he put his lips back to yours and his left hand to the back of your hair, breathless, as his right hand traveled even further down, and groped your butt hungrily. It felt so good, that boy was gonna drive you crazy. He had barely touched you yet, but you were so attracted to him, so eager for more, ugh…

He reached under the baggy T-shirt you were wearing, his hands slow-dancing around the circumference of your waist, feeling every inch of your smooth skin against his fingertips. You moaned softly into the kiss, and Mike’s arms trembled around your body. That boy was putty in your hands.

Something in him seemed to shift as soon as he worked up the courage to reach for your breasts under your shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra, so his hands met your hot skin right away. He squeezed them carefully, grazing his thumbs against your hardened nipples.

You knew he wanted to take your shirt off, but was probably too shy to ask for it. So, you took the first step, gently breaking the kiss to speak.

“Can I take your shirt off?” you asked softly, almost whispering. “It’s ok if you’re not comfortable, I won’t think any less of you”, you reassured him.

“It’s… it’s ok, I want you to touch me”, he nodded. “And I want to touch you as well, if that’s okay...”

“I very much want to be touched by you, Mikey” you whispered, leaning in and biting his bottom lip sensually, as you kissed him once more.

Your hands reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and off his body, parting the kiss to do so. Once the garment hit the floor, you roamed your hands over his bare chest while putting your lips to the side of his neck and up to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe once again. Mike hissed and quivered under your touch. You kissed further down his neck and into his chest, no longer on your tiptoes.

His voice was raspy as he called out your name, making you break the kiss and pay attention to him. “Can I… Can I take your shirt off too?”

You nodded and raised your arms, letting him undress you. As your T-shirt came off, Mike’s eyes went wide. His hands grabbed your breasts once again, as his eyes watched his own movements, mesmerized. He kissed your neck in return, lips going down your chest to finally kiss your breasts. He took one of your nipples in between his lips, suckling gently as you moaned into his touch.

“Is.. Is this o…” he let go of your nipple for a second, breathless, not being able to finish his phrase, as you guided his head closer into your chest again. He went right back to suckling your nipple, delighted at the feeling, but not as much as you. His dark eyes shot up at yours this time, making it all even more intimate and sensual. He suckled on the other nipple, getting even more moans from you.

“Y/n” he panted, seeming drunk on pleasure, and you had barely even touched him yet. “How do I… you know… make you… feel good?” his face was flushed as he spoke, and you felt an instant rush between your thighs, getting even wetter at the mere thought of him pleasing you. Gosh, you’d be soaked when he finally touched you.

“I’ll show you, Mikey… Can we go to bed?”

“Sure” he promptly agreed, fixing his bangs, still trying to normalize his breathing.

He followed you into your bedroom and you shut the door behind yourself. You didn’t have to, your roommates were out of town for the whole week, but still, you wanted him to feel as safe as possible.

”Lay back”, you nearly ordered, softly pushing his shoulders onto the bed, and he did as he was told. Shirtless Mike could be a painting hanging in the Louvre - his milky perfect skin, lightly toned figure, jet black hair all messy and soft, plus those plump red lips.

He was so beautiful… Mikey had said he wanted to please you, but you wanted to see what was hiding underneath those jeans so bad…

You took off your pants and lied on top of him, immediately going for another kiss. His hands grabbed your butt once again, more firmly this time, but soon traveled up towards your back. His fingertips lightly grazing your bare skin sent shivers down your spine, as you put your mouth to his ear and moaned his name like a prayer.

Your lips found his neck yet again, then his chest, where you could feel his heart thumping with a mere peck. You left a trail of wet kisses down Mike’s stomach, whilst his moans and quivers were noticeable, and he seemed to shiver with anticipation as you unbuttoned his jeans and slowly took them off. His shoes were already off the minute he entered your home, so it was much easier to do so.

Your fingers toyed with his briefs’ elastic band, before gently peeling them off, leaving him completely bare in front of you. His length probably a bit above average, and his girth impressive… You couldn’t help but take his cock in your dominant hand, analyzing it while slowly pumping him even harder than he already was.

You took Mike’s hardened length in between your lips and gently suckled on its pinkish tip, looking up at him to catch any displeased reactions. What your eyes saw, on the other hand, was his lips squished together and his eyes shut, fluttering behind his eyelids.

“Let out any sounds you wish to make, baby” you interrupted your suckling, looking up at him with kind eyes. “I’d love to hear them”, and resumed your work.

As your mouth engulfed his length once again, Mike moaned softly at the touch, supporting himself in his elbows in order to look at you while you touched him.

You took as much of his length into your throat as you possibly could, hands caressing his testicles, nails gently scratching his thighs. His moaning got a bit louder, as his right hand shakily went for the back of your head, as if to keep it there, but also to stop you if needed. When he opened his mouth to speak again, it all became clear.

“Y/n, I just… Maybe I won’t be able to hold it in if you…” he panted while your mouth relentlessly licked and sucked, head bobbing up and down that thick shaft. “I’ll… I’ll make a mess on your bed…”

You stopped briefly, only to reassure him.

“Mikey, love, I want to please you… Let yourself go, I’ll swallow every drop, is that ok? There’ll be no mess, don’t worry”, you said, looking into his eyes and then taking his length back into your mouth, picking up from where you had left off.

Mike’s body trembled, moans escaping his lips as you continued to bob your head up and down, hands following the mouth’s movements, and soon after, he let out a louder, distinct moan. You opened your mouth slightly, with his tip still inside, pumping his cock until you could feel his warm, thick seed squirt inside your mouth, giving him the perfect view of his first orgasm granted by someone else.

He panted, relieved, as his dripping tip threatened to leave your mouth - but not before you could lick it perfectly clean, as you had promised. It took him a second to register what had just happened.

“Oh my God, Y/n, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to finish so soon…” he apologized, standing up quickly and seeming utterly disappointed at himself. “I-I know girls don’t like it when guys… you know… Finish way too soon, I just-“

“Don’t say that, Mikey” you interrupted, standing up as well and embracing him tightly. “An important part of sex is pleasing your partner selflessly, ok? I wanted to make you cum, I wanted to see you come undone under my touch…”

“Can I do the same to you now, then? I really want to please you too…”

“Of course you can, love”, you smiled, caressing his cheek again. “Touch me.”

The boy needed no other warning. His hands went for your waist hungrily, his lips now kissing your neck and chest again, pushing your body lightly so he could pin you down on the bed. His hands were rather shaky, but it was so good to see him loosening up a bit.

He mirrored your movements, also splaying kisses down your torso, up until he reached your lower belly and faced your clothed pussy. His eyes met yours for permission, and as you nodded, he gently slid your panties down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

He then spread your thighs slowly, eyes glued to the view of your slick folds, glistening with arousal, pulsating uncontrollably around nothing, eager to be filled. His index finger touched the area first, circling your entrance. Your muscles clenched around the very tip of his finger, causing him to hiss with desire.

“You’re so wet… you’re soaked, y/n…”

“I want you so bad, Mike…” you grabbed his right hand and aligned his finger with your clit. “You can rub here very gently, ok? It is very sensitive, but it’ll make me feel really good if you’re delicate…”

He nodded, his slick pointer finger rubbing soft circles around your clit, bringing a moan to your lips after a few swirls. You could see a smile across his face for a second, like a child who’d finally figure out how to play with a new, more complicated toy than what they were used to. He kept circling your clit gently, testing out speeds and angles, and seeing what made you quiver and moan the most.

After mastering that game, he kept going and going, not falling out of that perfect rhythm for a second, until an orgasm ripped through your body, a louder moan leaving your lips, your eyes squeezed shut and tearful.

Once you had ridden out of your high, he noticed your tears and stopped his movements immediately.

“Oh-oh my God, y/n, you’re crying…” he held your hand and kissed it, worriedly. “Did-did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-“

“Mikey, darling” you panted, a naughty smile still playing around your lips. “That was amazing, baby. You did really good… Those are tears of joy, at most. Don’t worry your pretty little heart”, you kissed his lips tenderly.

“That… that was a very beautiful sight” he admitted, a bit embarrassed. “Your mouth all open, your eyes squeezed, your back arching… You’re even more beautiful to look at, you know, when you cum…”

You chuckled, finding him even more adorable than before. He lowered his body once again, like he had done to touch you before, looking at your opened labia, glistening even more with arousal.

“Can I… can I put my lips to it? Is it like kissing?”

“It is a lot like kissing, baby… See this part right here?” You brought your own hand down to show him your clit. “This is where you had put your finger, it’s the place you should kiss the most, ok? It is, indeed, the most delicate part of a woman’s flower, so again, be gentle… But this is where nearly all of the pleasure comes from”.

He nodded slowly, like a student who would now take an important test, and Mike had no intention of failing. His lips tended very gently to your flower, like the first peck you had given him today, and he seemed to remember what you taught him all too well. He opened his lips and flicked his tongue onto your clit, earning himself a moan. He knew pretty damn well what that meant, and kept going.

His tongue would flick and lick and roll over your clit, one of his fingers now also joining the mixture, slowly entering your drenched hole. He could feel it pulsating around his digit with each flick of his tongue, and as you came undone under his touch, he could feel your tight hole clenching mercilessly around his finger. He could only imagine how that would feel around his cock. You saw stars as you came down from your high, moaning softly, until you touched his face, gesturing for him to stop.

“You’re so good at this, Mikey” you panted, feeling lightheaded from such pleasure. “You’re a natural”, you praised, “But I believe you’re ready for your final lesson of the day, aren’t you?”

You sat up and kissed his lips once again, tasting yourself in them. You had noticed he was hard as a rock again, and quickly reached for a condom in your nightstand.

“Can I show you how to put one of these on?”, you ripped the small package with your fingertips as he agreed.

You sucked on his cock a bit more, just to relax him and make sure he was as hard as he could be. Then, you rolled the condom into his length all the way down.

He lied on top of you and aligned himself with your entrance, slowly sliding into your tight slit. Inch by inch, you could see his eyes fluttering as he got acquainted with the new sensation. Once his shaft was completely buried in you, he timidly thrusted, moaning softly as you kissed his lips to delight this moment as much as you could.

“Can I… Can we do this in a different way? I mean, not me on top of you?”, he whispered, his cheeks flushed again.

“It’s ok, baby boy, do as you wish” you whispered back into his ear and licked his earlobe. “I’m all yours, you do whatever you want to me.”

”What… whatever I want?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Absolutely, love… What are you thinking of?”

He gestured for you to get on your hands and knees, so you complied. It was so cute to finally see him letting loose. His hands groped your hips, bringing you closer to his throbbing erection, and he slowly inserted himself back into your drenched slit. He thrusted and thrusted, moaning with you with each rock of your hips. His thrusts became harder and sloppier, and it was clear he couldn’t hold it in for much longer.

“Cum for me, baby” you looked back at Mike, giving him the naughtiest look ever.

Mike let out a loud moan and panted heavily as he spilled into the condom, his mouth agape and his entire body shaking. He removed himself from you slowly, afraid he’d hurt you. As Mikey noticed you were fine, he quickly tied up the condom and discarded it on a nearby bin.

“Wow” he panted, his heart still beating out of his chest. “Thank you for this… You’re so beautiful, y/n…”

You put your hands to his cheeks again. “You too, Mikey. I’m so glad I got to be your first, you have no idea… How about some cuddles and a nap now?”

“As you wish, ma’m” he chuckled, laying down on the bed and pulling you closer, so your head would be on his chest.

You snuggled up in each others arms and slept soundly for the whole night, without a care in the world. Michael Wheeler turned out to be that very something you were craving earlier - and most definitely a good kisser.

[prentissmultiverse]

Fata Morgana

You and Emily Prentiss share a connection that’s as intoxicating as it is impossible—moments of closeness overshadowed by distance and doubt. Caught between longing and the need to move on, you’re left questioning if love can survive when it feels like a beautiful illusion. inspired by Fata Morgana - Nina Chuba (1407 words) The city feels colder than usual tonight. The bite of the November air cuts through your coat, but you barely notice. The city lights blur into a kaleidoscope as you walk down the street, hands buried deep in your coat pockets. Your breath forms small clouds in the crisp evening air. Somewhere ahead, the faint hum of a car engine and muted laughter echoes. But your thoughts are elsewhere, your footsteps aimless until they inevitably lead you here -

Emily’s apartment.

It’s late—too late, really—but you find yourself here anyway, stopping across the street, staring up at the window where her light is still on. The faint golden glow spills into the night, soft and warm, so unlike the icy detachment you’ve come to associate with her. You’ve been here before. Too many times. You told yourself you wouldn’t come back. You promised. And yet, here you are. Again.

It’s like chasing a mirage in the desert. You know there’s no water, no oasis waiting for you. Just an illusion. A cruel trick of the light.

But God, the illusion is beautiful.

The first time you met Emily, it was her eyes that held you captive. Dark, enigmatic, and just a touch too cold. She had smiled then, soft but guarded. That smile had cracked something in you, and before you knew it, you were swept into her world.

It was intoxicating—her wit, her strength, the way she seemed to see right through you. But as much as she could pierce through your walls, she kept hers firmly intact. Every glance, every touch, every word between you felt like a dance, one where she always led, always kept the rhythm just out of reach. And you? You were too enchanted to let go, even when it became clear that Emily was more shadow than substance when it came to her feelings for you.

And you told yourself it was enough. That the stolen moments, the rare glimpses of vulnerability, made the rest of it worth it. Even when she pulled away. Even when she made you feel like you were chasing a ghost.

Now, as you stand there, staring at her window, you wonder if you were a fool for ever thinking it could be different. You know she isn’t waiting for you. She never has been. But still, a part of you hopes.

You take a step closer to her building, then another. The familiar pull drags you in like a tide. You don’t stop until you’re standing on the sidewalk just below her window, looking up like the world’s saddest cliché. The song plays in your head, the one that’s been haunting you since you left her a week ago. Ich seh' dich vor mir, Fata Morgana... The lyrics strike too close to home. She’s there, in your mind, as vivid as she ever was—yet somehow always just out of reach.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whisper to yourself. But your feet don’t move.

But tonight, you’re here again. The glow from her window makes it impossible not to imagine her inside, curled up on the couch with a book, her brow furrowing the way it always does when she’s engrossed.

The sound of the door opening pulls you from your thoughts. Your breath catches as Emily steps out, her silhouette sharp against the light spilling from the hallway behind her. She’s dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Casual, almost vulnerable. Almost.

Her dark eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

“What are you doing here?” she asks finally. Her voice is calm, but there’s a hint of something underneath—concern? Annoyance? You can’t tell.

You swallow hard, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets. “I don’t know.”

She steps closer, her expression unreadable. “(Y/N), you said you were done. You said—” She stops herself, her jaw tightening. “Why are you here?”

“I keep seeing you,” you admit, your voice breaking. “Everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. Even though I know…” You trail off, looking down at the pavement. “I know it’s pointless.”

“(Y/N), you shouldn’t do this to yourself,” she says softly, stepping down from the steps until she’s standing only a few feet from you. Her tone is almost gentle, but her words cut deep. “You deserve someone who can give you everything.”

“And you’re saying that’s not you.”

Her expression softens, but only slightly.  “I told you before—I can’t give you what you need.”

“And what is that, exactly?” You look up at her, your eyes searching hers. “Because all I’ve ever wanted is you. Just you, Emily.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away. For a moment, you think she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

“Do you even care about me?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Her eyes snap back to yours, wide with something that looks like shock—or guilt. “Of course I care about you,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “But it’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple with you,” you say bitterly, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “You keep me at arm’s length, but you won’t let me go either. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To feel so close to someone and still be completely alone?”

Her face falls, and for the first time, she looks like she might break. But she doesn’t. She never does.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. “Over and over again.”

Ein bisschen zu kalt und zu schön für die Wahrheit... Du bist eine Lüge, man hat mich gewarnt.

Later, when you’re back home in your dark apartment, the silence feels heavier than usual. You lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, her voice echoing in your mind.

You’d always known Emily was a mirage, a vision too perfect to be real. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. The distance, the detachment—it was her armor, and no matter how close you thought you’d gotten, you’d never truly breached it.

You roll onto your side, staring at the empty space in your bed where she used to be. You told her you were done. And maybe, this time, you mean it.

And yet, you can’t help but long for her. For the rare moments when the walls came down, just enough to let you feel the warmth of her light. Even if it burned you in the end.

You close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. It hasn’t, not since you left her.

The next morning, you walk by her building again. This time, you don’t stop. You don’t look up. You tell yourself you’re moving on, that you won’t let her pull you back in.

But as you near the corner, you catch a glimpse of her—standing at her window, watching you go. Your heart lurches, and for one fleeting second, you consider turning back. Climbing the steps, knocking on her door, and asking her—demanding—what this all meant to her. If you ever meant enough.

But then the moment passes.

Her hand moves, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, as though she’s about to reach for the window or wave or stop you. But she doesn’t. And neither do you. And for a fleeting moment, you think you see something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

Regret. Or maybe, just maybe, love.

You turn the corner, your footsteps quickening as the building disappears behind you. Your chest aches, your mind racing with what-ifs and maybes.

You don’t stop.

You don’t look back.

And as the distance grows, you tell yourself it’s better this way. Even if you don’t quite believe it.

And I see you before me, Fata Morgana I look into eyes that were never there for me A little too cold and too beautiful to be real You are a lie, I was warned

There are a hundred red flags, and you dance with them in the wind I love looking at you until everything around you blurs And you go so far that you don’t even know what we still are As long as you’re dancing, I’ll dance along until there’s nothing left

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”  

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.  

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”  

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.  

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.   

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”  

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”  

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.  

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing? 

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.  

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button.  Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

[atlabeth]

congratulations on 3k!!! could I get a cute lil 🧸 hurt/comfort with nikolai where reader is grisha (maybe heartrender or inferni) and she gets jurda parem in her system and nikolai stays with her while she waits it out (like nina and matthias??) also drink water <333

by your side

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem inferni!reader

summary: you end up as collateral in a plot against nikolai. he helps you through the aftermath.

a/n: so sorry this took so long but that’s going to be the case for all of these lol !!! oops. but i love this man and i hope you enjoy it

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): reader goes through parem withdrawal and is kinda mean to nikolai for a bit. mentions of kidnapping and drugging. hurt/comfort, nikolai is the sweetest

“Nikolai—”

“I know.”

“It hurts, Nikolai,” you breathed.

“I know, milaya.” He brushed loose strands of hair out of your eyes, matted to your forehead by sweat and blood, his heart breaking more with every passing second. “I know.”

Nikolai couldn’t stand to see you like this. You didn’t even want him to—you asked him to leave so you could go through it on your own, but he would sooner die than leave you alone. You had an iron grip on his hand, but he hardly felt it. After what had been done to you in the name of getting to him, Nikolai owed you this much.

“Everything burns,” you moaned. “My— my bones—”

You were cut off by a sharp gasp of pain and your grip on Nikolai’s hand tightened. The action made you grimace as your eyes screwed shut, but you didn’t lessen your hold.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to ease this pain for you. He understood little of jurda parem, if a cure even existed, but he did know that you were strong enough to weather what was meant to be an insurmountable storm.

“You can end it,” you said, your voice shaking. Bloodshot eyes met his own, wide and dilated and full of unimaginable pain. “You’ve got to still have some here.”

“You know I can’t do that, my love,” he murmured.

“Please, Nikolai,” you begged.

“It will only make it worse,” he said. “There is nothing we can do but wait. You are strong enough to get through it, milaya.”

“Then what are you good for?” you snarled, your voice rising with the sudden flash of anger. “You’re a damned king, but you can’t even stop this?”

You tried to rip your hand away but Nikolai wouldn’t let you. He laid his other hand on top of yours.

“Look at me, Nikolai,” you hissed. “You say you love me and you leave me like this.”

“It is because I love you that I cannot give anything to you,” he said. “I can’t imagine how this feels, but I will be here for you every second of the way.”

You shook your head as another pained gasp escaped you, and somehow your grip tightened even more.

“I just want it to stop,” you begged. “Please, please make it stop.”

You were drenched in sweat, the bedsheets and the undergarments you’d stripped down to soaked through, and yet you hadn’t been granted any reprieve.

You’d always found comfort in the blazes you could create—able to fight with unbelievable ferocity one moment and make a harmless, beautiful show out of it that summoned all the stars in Nikolai’s eyes the next—but now it threatened to consume you.

Nikolai couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

You should have never been involved in the first place. He should’ve done a better job at protecting you, should have kept your name hidden, should have never let anyone have the chance to do something like this in the first place.

It was his fault. Nikolai knew he had enemies, more than he could ever imagine after ascending to the throne. Some stupid, naive part of him hoped that you wouldn’t become a part of that, but that was all it was—naivety.

You were kidnapped to get to him. Drugged to get to him. The bastards must have hoped you would go up in flames once you were done, but they underestimated you. Your foes always did.

You didn’t deserve any of this. Those criminals knew one thing, at least, because Nikolai would have taken all your pain as his burden for the rest of his life if it meant one second of reprieve for you.

But he couldn’t. His enemies wanted him to suffer, and the best way to do that was to make you suffer.

“I know,” he whispered, and he raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I know.”

Your skin had all but ignited from the inside out, more intense than anything an Inferni could muster on their own. You could have plunged to the depths of the Isenvee and still burn the whole way down.

And it continued on.

You hurled every curse at him in your native Zemeni, and when you ran out you turned to what you knew in Ravkan. You tried to throw him off or get him to leave a hundred times, tried anything to make him hate you. He could never hate you.

You sobbed through your pain, begging Nikolai to make it end. You gripped his hand so tightly he thought it might break. You asked him to kiss you to distract you for even a moment.

You endured every hellish, torturous second, and Nikolai stayed by your side through it all.

“Nikolai.” The sudden whisper was so soft he had to lean closer to hear you.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m so tired.”

“You can sleep,” he assured. “I will be right here with you.”

“Hold me.” Your voice cracked, and his heart twisted. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Every part of you had been so sensitive, practically ablaze, and he didn’t want to worsen your already sensitive condition.

“I… I feel so empty.” You blinked a few times, but he saw the tears shimmering in your eyes. “Like— like I lost a part of myself, and I need to feel something.”

Nikolai’s throat bobbed, and he nodded. “Of course, lapushka.”

He climbed into bed next to you and laid down, gathering you up in his arms as gently as possible.

“Is this alright?” he asked softly as he pulled you close.

You nodded. He could feel each beat of your heart with your back pressed against his chest, and he’d never been more grateful for the sound. Your skin still burned, but he welcomed the blaze.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.”

For a moment, the two of you laid there in silence. Only your heartbeat and your breathing interrupted it, yours still slightly harried.

“I’m not hurting you,” he asked, “am I?”

“…No.”

You paused before you answered, and Nikolai frowned as he said your name.

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “Everything hurts right now—I’m not going to let that keep you away from me.”

He let out a wry laugh, and he pulled you even closer. “There she is.”

He could almost feel your smile in the shift of energy, but another moment passed before you spoke.

“I’m so sorry about everything I said.” Your whisper came out as a rasp, your throat scratchy from your ordeal. “I love you, Nikolai. More than anything. You know that, right?”

“I could never forget,” he said. “Not with all the love I hold for you.”

“…Good.” He felt you swallow hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Nikolai said. “It was my fault all of this happened.”

“It was their fault,” you insisted. “You saved me, Nikolai. I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine,” he said. “So shall we call it even? No apologies necessary?”

You let out a soft laugh, followed by a grimace. “Even.”

Nikolai smiled and nodded. “Good.”

“…I’m tired,” you repeated, even softer this time.

“Rest, milaya,” Nikolai said. “I won’t leave your side.”

“You swear?”

“On every saint, new and old,” he said. “And every vlachka in the Lantsov coffers.”

He waited for your response, but there was nothing apart from your gentle, even breathing. He allowed a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

Nikolai would never let anyone hurt you again.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Petnames (Creepypasta edition)(remake)

lmao if youve been around since the beginning youll remember that this was one of my first posts- in fact i think you can find it linked in the first creepypasta masterlist in my pinned! been wanting to "return to form" so to speak and write general group hcs- this post may contain different hcs compared to the og, but it def will have more characters! i think i might remake a bunch of older posts since i like comparing how my hcs and writing has changed over time!! characters: slenderman, splendorman, eyeless jack, laughing jack, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, nina the killer, jane the killer, jeff the killer, puppeteer, bloody painter notes: reader is gn, any gendered petnames will be given an alt if applicable (ex. princess/prince), very short post, only really contains what they call you and what you call them in return, no real meat to it tbh, like a snack post, all characters are referred to as "them" not because of any pronoun hc i just copy/pasted it over and over and didnt feel like editing it cws: none

SLENDERMAN

They like calling you: Love, Darling, and Dear, and sometimes he simply says your name

You call them: He doesn't have much of a preference, but I can see Hon being a default... something about calling an old forest monster Hon feels amusing... Handsome also feels right

SPLENDORMAN

They like calling you: Honey, Dear, Schnookums, Sweetie, really he's open to calling you almost anything! He has a love for the more ridiculous names!

You call them: He doesn't have much of a preference either but if you call him Sweetiepie hes going to be head over heels... another one that just feels right...

MASKY

They like calling you: He doesnt talk all that much, but he does sometimes leave you notes and very rarely signs... on the occasion he leaves a note for you or speaks, he simply says your name! That's really it!

You call them: Prefers you to not refer to him with any name, though some petnames are on thin ice... Babe is the only one he seems to be receptive to

HOODIE

They like calling you: Looooves leaving you notes and makes a namesign for you, doesnt speak at all btw... can see him calling you by your name, Babe, Baby.. as an aside I can see Brian being a Babe/Baby dude so imagine that carries over

You call them: Sweet potato, Bud, Pumplin, Honey/Honey Bun

TICCI TOBY

They like calling you: He feels a little off calling you something that isnt some variation of your name, it could be because its different so hes not used to the mouth feel... tends to call you by a shortened version of your name

You call them: similarly hes not used to being called anything other than his name, at least not when it comes to positive things.. but he does seem to like cutie patootie as a joke

JEFF THE KILLER

They like calling you: Babe, Baby, jokingly Dumbass, Lovely.. though Babe is his default!

You call them: Hon, his name, and if youre feeling a little funny you can try to call him a dumb lovey dovey name- but just know hes going to give you the stink eye

JANE THE KILLER

They like calling you: You name for the most part, but I can see her calling you Hon!

You call them: Prefers her name but is not opposed to you calling her sweetheart!

NINA THE KILLER

They like calling you: will call you every name under the sun and may make her own to keep things fresh! its always a wild card!

You call them: doesnt care what you call her, shes going to wear it like a badge of honor and shes going to obsess over whatever nickname you give her

LAUGHING JACK

They like calling you: it comes as a shock to no one when i say that he calls you any variation of the sweet names... sweetheart, sweetpea, sweet thing, and so on... sometimes calls you sugar or toots if you let him

You call them: looooves when you call him lovey/lovely or any pie based name- honey pie for example

EYELESS JACK

They like calling you: tends to also call you by your name... hes not too big on affection, though rest assured he does love you. bro has little to no dating experience, he has ZERO game/lh

You call them: is a little picky with names, allows you to call him by his name.. the sillest he lets you go is calling him love bug

PUPPETEER

They like calling you: dear, dearest, lovely, and darling are his usual go tos!

You call them: you sometimes call him casanova as a joke but its slowly turned into one of your go to names, likes being called prince as well every now and then

BLOODY PAINTER

They like calling you: defaults to your name but will sometimes call you beautiful/handsome, othertimes he might call you sunshine

You call them: pretty boy, dear are the ones hes most receptive to. he may not bother responding if you dare call him pookie .. he prefers his name above all else, though

[chthonic-cassandra]

hello my friend! currently rereading dracula, as you know, and wondered if you have any recs for where to start with criticism about the novel? 🖤

This question makes me so happy! <3

I am dreadfully out of date on this, but I can certainly give you places to start; these are not all necessarily recommendations for criticism I like (there's precious little of that), but more introductions to classic criticism in the field.

The classics

The Norton Critical Edition of Dracula (edited by Nina Auerbach and David J. Skal), alongside the Cambridge Companion to Dracula, are both good introductions which collect representative examples of some of the most popular scholarly strains of thought on the novel. When someone asks me to recommend an edition of Dracula to start with, I always suggest the Norton.

Leonard Wolf (who was not Virginia Woolf's husband, but who was one of Anne Rice's college professors) was one of the most important voices in the critical reevaluation of Dracula which started in the 1970's. I often disagree with him (so much so that I once wrote a fic about how much I disagree with him), but his annotated edition of Dracula was my first. His important works are A Dream of Dracula and Dracula: A Connoisseur's Guide. He (along with Radu Florescu and Raymond McNally) was an important early proponent of the "Dracula is Vlad Tepes" theory, which was hotly opposed by...

Elizabeth Miller, ornery grand dame of Dracula criticism. She is extremely invested in being the most reasonable and the least prone to flights of fancy of all the critics, which means she does often say useful things, but she's also a little boring. She's best known for Dracula: Sense and Nonsense, but it's more a litany of complaints than actually analysis. Her books in general have useful primary source stuff.

Once you get into analysis of Dracula reception and adaptions, then I can with a full heart recommend David J. Skal's Hollywood Gothic, full of delightful trivia, which was truly Skal's strength.

Recommendations I more stand by:

Donald Glover's Vampires, Mummies, and Liberals: Bram Stoker and the Politics of Popular Fiction is one of the very few works of Dracula criticism that I thought actually dealt in any kind of thoughtful way with the racial politics of the book.

Christy Desmet's essay on Ophelia, Ellen Terry, and Dracula, collected in Shakespearean Gothic, was excellent and I still think about it; the whole collection is very much worth reading.

Loved Ann-Louise Kibbie's Transfusion: Blood and Sympathy in the Nineteenth Century Literary Imagination, which isn't all about Dracula but obviously deals substantially with it.

As a teenager I had a lot of fun reading the uploaded issues of The Journal of Dracula Studies and sometimes fantasized about submitting something to them while concealing my age/lack of higher education to see what happened (I never did). I remember feeling very vindicated by Katharina Mewald's "The Emancipation of Mina?" but don't know how it would hold up now. I haven't kept up with the most recent issues (perhaps I will start!) but at a glance there seem to be some interesting things.

ETA forgot about Allison Case's Plotting Women: Gender and Narration in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Novel! Good Mina material, comparing her with Marian in Woman in White.

[melanieph321]

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Claim Me Part 2/3

+18

Part 1

Summary - Reader is Dusan Vlahovic sister and is dating Kenan. However, Reader has yet told her brother of the relationship as he is very protective of her.

Enjoy!

For lunch with the team and their families, you chose to wear pants. Levi's jeans, to be specific. Somehow, Kenan had managed to arrange the seating at the restaurant so that the two of you would be seated right before each other. You were thankful that he had been eager to tell you about his achievements before your arrival at the restaurant. It allowed you to prepare for the worst, like your boyfriend attempting to play footsie while you tried to enjoy your food.

It was pretty funny. His reaction as his foot went up your legs, expecting to feel your bare thighs, only to be met with the rough fabric of your jeans.

"Whatta..."

You had to look away not to burst out in laughter.

"Behave."

Your behavior earned you an elbow from Dusan, who, God forbid, despised laughter around the table. Or laughter in general.

"Are you twelve, or what?" He hissed, to which you were quite offended by. Kenan must have noticed this because his face went from playful to leathal in just a matter of seconds.

"It's okay." You nodded assuringly. However, he was not happy with Dusan and had to excuse himself to go use the restroom.

"Hey?"

There wasn't much you could say to cheer him up. However, he seemed to appreciate the fact that you came looking for him after he had been gone for a while.

"Hey?" He said, meeting your reflection through the mirror. "You know this is the men's restroom, right?"

"Really, then why are you in here?"

He chuckled.

You came up behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. "It's getting kind of boring out there. What if we ditched this thing and went somewhere else?"

"Won't your brother notice?"

"Nina can cover for me. She always does."

Kenan turned around, forcing you to shift your arms to wrap around his neck, your forheads pressed together.

"I love you." He said.

"Love you too."

"I mean it Y/N. I've never felt this way about another person."

"Felt what?" You raised your head, your nose caressing his, only then did you notice that Kenan's eyes were closed.

"I guess I just don't want to lose you." He sighed.

"Baby." You shrugged his shoulders. His eyelids opened. "What makes you think you're gonna lose me? I'm not going anywhere."

Kenan shied away, the two of you letting go of each other. You kept an eye on the bathroom door as anyone could burst in at any moment.

"I know that." Kenan nodded. It was difficult for him to express his feelings at times. "Like I said before, I want to be able to hold your hand without looking over my shoulder for Dusan. I think it would be better if we just told him the truth. Rip off the bandaid, I mean."

"Kenan I don't..."

"I get it." He nodded. "It's not as easy as I believe. But what if it is?"

You felt for him. You really did. But more than anything, you admired Kenan for wanting to tell Dusan that the two of you were seeing each other. He wanted to do so despite the fact that it could jeopardize the teams dynamic. Not to mention the ridicule and cold shoulders he could face from his other teammates. Still, Kenan thought that you were worth the risk.

"Have I ever told you how good you look in a suit?"

Kenan looked up from where he had been standing by the sink. He saw you scowling him up and down, a devious smile on your lips. "No, but try me." He grinned.

"You look hot." You said, approaching him were he stood. "So fucking hot."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You can only imagine what it's doing to me right now, seeing you all dressed up."

Kenan's raised a curious brow. His hand went to wrap around your waist as you stood before him again. "Tell me." He whispered. "What exactly is it doing to you?"

Your lip was caught between your teeth. You bit down hard. Even more so, feeling Kenan's hand slip down the length of your back to the curve of your ass. He squeezed it, pressing you against his growing erection.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now."

"In here?" He frowned, questionably looking around the Men's restroom.

You nodded. "In here."

You grabbed his tie, pulling him towards one of the bathroom stalls. As the door trapped the two of you inside, the explicit kissing began.

It was filthy and primitive beyond measure. You had managed to cover up your last hickey with make up, but as Kenan got busy nipping at your cleavage, licking and sucking your breast, you feared that you had no way to cover up those future bruises.

"Fuck Y/N, you're unreal." He groand and slipped a hand down your jeans, feeling the heat from your damped panties. "I want to fuck you until you scream my name."

You smiled. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Kenan paused to look at you,  not sure if this was you giving him his full consent to fuck your brians out. Nevertheless he went for a more tender approach, wanting to please you all the way, without rushing.

You moaned as his fingertips slipped under the fabric of your panties, brushing the bed of you pubic hair, searching for your opening. Once he found it, he slipped two fingers inside, sensing that you were more than ready for it.

The back of your head hit the stall, with a hand covering your mouth to smother your gasping moan.

"Yes baby,  you like that?"

"Mhm." You nodded, fighting back tears in your eyes. He kept a steady paste, thrusting his fingers in and out of you in angles that hit every right spot.

"Don't be shy, baby." He talk you through it, the erruption of your orgasm. "You can come for me. Please, baby, come all over my fingers."

You stood on your tippy toes, climbing the steep hill of your rising orgasm. "Kenan,  I'm gonna..."

"Yes baby, let it go."

It was unbearable, your panties pushed to the side, Kenan's braud fingers deep inside of you, lubricated by the liquid that help spark the flame of the craziest orgasm that you ever experienced.

"Fuck."

You crumbled against the bathroom walls. With Kenan slipping out of you to reach for your jaw, pulling your face towards his, rewarding his good girl with a gentle kiss.

"You did good baby. So fucking good."

You smiled weakly and allowed his helping hand to get you back up on your feet.

"I want you to feel good to."

He smiled. "You already do."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Looking down the bulge in Kenan's pants gave him away. It was your turn to pleasure him.

"Y/N, you don't have to..." He protested, seeing you lower yourself to your knees. "The floor is dirty, baby. I don't want you to..."

"But Kenan..." You whimpered, your eyes big as you looked up at him. "I want to."

"Yes?"

You nodded, "Yes."

His hand went to the back of your head, gripping your hair. You were eager, licking your lips as you reached for his zipper, the bulge in his pants more than ready to be set free.

"Y/N, is that you?"

You froze.

Outside of the stall, the door to the restroom flung open, followed by heavy footsteps.

You looked up to see that Kenan shared the same look of panic in his eyes.

"Y/N!" Dusan hissed, your body trembling with the anger in his voice. "I can see your heels. I know you're in there. Who's in there with you?"

Your heart sank. Not like this, you thought. He will kill him. Your brother is gonna kill your boyfriend.

Part 1

[aheathen-conceivably]

Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it. 

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in. 

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

[playboysaleen]

Kalopisa. (4)

Kalopisa: (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are. 

Parings: Victoria Neuman x Supe!Reader (GN) (Slight AU)

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four

Summary: You never had the best life. Being abducted at a young age, being raised in the most wanted mafia as a weapon, hell- becoming the most feared in the gang. But…Truth is, you only wanted freedom. Being able to wake up and not have to wonder if you were going to see the sunset again. What happens when your wish partially comes true and you are offered your freedom but at what cost? Oh, you’ll see. 

Warnings: Death, Swearing, everything you done seen is the Boyz is what you should expect here.

Word Count: 5.3k (slightly proof read.)

A/n: So I took a small break but I haven't stopped writing cause I actually like letting my imagination expand with this woman lol but like i said in the previous chapter- there is a slight age gap, i know Little Nina and her crew were Russian but i changed it to german and the reader has a french accent(like frenchie). So i made the reader speak kinda in a english/french slang and this fic is slightly AU so bare with me. (If you read this? Muah! thank you.)

____________________________________

She hates to say it but she wants to see this side of you more often. 

After her shower, she placed on the clothes you gave her walking out the bathroom. She planted her feet when she saw your exposed back leaning down grabbing the muscle shirt from the bag. Tossing on the clothing, you sighed softly fixing your necklace to hang loose around your neck facing Victoria. 

“Decided to get tattoos?” She attempted to spark a conversation from noticing your stressed state. You grumbled nodding rubbing the back of your neck, you grabbed one of the chairs from the dining table placing it under the doorknob for extra protection. You turned to face her sighing, 

“Look if you do not want to sleep that is fine. You do not have to force yourself to talk to me.” You said walking towards her leaning down to meet her eyes. She held her breath as you moved your hand under the bed grabbing the weapon that was stashed just beneath her. 

“But I do want to talk to you.” She whispered when you turned your head only inches from her own. The contact never broke but you hummed looking between her eyes whispering, 

“Then yes. I decided to get tattoos to become a person I did not want to be. A killer.” You leaned back up making way to the kitchen placing the firearm on the table. She followed your figure as you walked back to the bed taking a seat at the edge by the headboard. 

“Do you regret them?” You shook your head extending your right arm out, 

“Nina gave me a book when I was younger about these greek gods that have gifts and I read the entire thing more times than I can remember.” You started pointing at the woman that was inked into your skin. 

“Athéna, déesse de la guerre” 

“Goddess of war.” She replied, you nodded- 

“Also wisdom, Nina sent me to kill a man that was stealing weapons from our arms dealer. I remember the look on his face when I found him; scared and amazed. I slaughtered his entire team with my bare hands.” You traced your finger over the wings that wrapped around the woman's head on your forearm turning your arm over but a hand grabbed your wrist. 

“What does this mean?” You sighed softly, tapping the word that ran across your inner wrist. 

“Hiraeth, a longing for a place that you can never return to…or never existed. I always felt that when I was growing up in the underground. No kid wanted to be my friend and everyone was so terrified of me. I wanted to go…home, but I did not have one.” You whispered out as the woman in front of you hummed softly. You tapped the tattoo on your hand chuckling softly, 

“Hermès, messager des dieux.” 

“Messenger of the gods.” You nodded at her translation, 

“I placed that one on my hand cause it is the messenger telling my story, plus it looked nice with my jewelry.” You heard a small laugh from the woman in front of you when you glanced up seeing her now sitting next to you with her thigh touching your crossed knee. Her head was down, lost in the ink on your skin. She pointed at the small word that was on your outer forearm. 

“Lourd?” She whispered as you felt her turn your arm to see the piece it was connected to- 

“Heavy. Aphrodite, la déesse de l'amour.” (the goddess of love) 

“It is a man holding up a heart but is struggling to keep balance from everything that is happening around him. When I was younger I dreamed of having a beautiful house by the beach with my lover and child but as I grew up I knew I would never have that due to…” 

“The heavy heart you carry.” She finished looking at you, you nodded sighing loudly pointing at the three headed dog that covered your entire bicep. 

“Ah my favorite. Hadès, dieu des enfers. Everyone would tell me that this is the best tattoo that speaks of me because I am the god of the underworld with the souls that I take.” 

“But why the three headed dogs?” She asked, placing her finger on the doberman's head tracing softly. Clenching your jaw, you tried your best to stop the twitching in your fingers from the effect she was giving you. 

“Each head represents a different time period: the past, the present, and the future. It has a negative meaning, but I like to think of it as me. Who I was, who I am, and who I will be.” You explained clenching your fist when she placed her entire hand onto your inner bicep. 

“So meaningful, you have so many more.” She slightly gushed, you moved your arm back but her hand never left the position it was in.

“More to tell for another time,” you tried to get her away with how close she was getting but she did not stop. Her breath blew over your cheek when you both stood still noticing her lips were close to your ear. 

“Drink from me.” 

You quickly shuffled out of the bed letting out a bitter laugh, 

“No.” 

“Why not?” She chased after you grabbing your arm facing you towards her. 

“I do not owe you an explanation, I said no.” You grumbled out, shoving your arm away from her walking to the window. You place your hand on the glass, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew what the consequences were if you drank from her. Nina always told you to not leave any trace of survivors or any wounded and if you did? She’d kill you. Shuffling was heard behind you but your breath was caught in your throat when you smelled..

Blood…

You whipped your head around to see Victoria with her hand extended out with the red liquid dripping down her palm. Your eyes darted to the knife that she held in her other hand as she took a step towards you. 

“Tell me why or I will do it again.” You scoffed at her threat but took a step forward when she placed the blade against her wrist. Growling softly, you walked her way placing her against the wall. Her face was almost buried into your chest when you placed your index finger above her chin lifting her gaze into yours. 

“I have never fed on a living being before. I feed to kill and I cannot kill you Victoria.” Whispering, your hand snaked around her waist distracting her from your other hand disarming the knife from her grasp. She placed her palm against her lips sucking the excess blood whispering, 

“I know…” She hung her head low but you brought it back up leaning in. Your noses brushed against each other when you placed your tongue against the corner of her lips slowly licking off the blood that dribbled down her bottom lip. You slightly pulled away but you couldn't seem to move fully, you both stood there listening to the mixed heavy breaths you released. You could see her lips leaning in when a sound of buzzing was heard on the nightstand. You hummed, moving back watching her shoulders drop, 

“Your phone is ringing.” Her head shook out the dirty thoughts, walking to the bed answering the phone. 

“They found Soldier Boy. Butcher also mentioned to Hughie that he has found more intel from Grace about V.” Your eyes slightly widen when Victoria nodded softly, 

“Where is Grace?” Victoria asked, shuffling was heard from the phone when Annie spoke, 

“In a secluded area, I will send you the address but Vicky, you need to make an appearance in your office before any suspects you are gone for some time.” Annie said, you sat down on the floor near Victoria leaning back against the bed, 

“Some time?” Victoria questioned the last two words when you tried your best to understand why as well when a ding was heard from her phone. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. Okay, I will stop by my house in the morning to grab some clothes and we will head down there. Thank you Annie.” The girl on the other side said goodbye as she hung up the phone groaning, 

“I have to make an appearance tomorrow and to let them know I will be out for a few days. We need to stop by my house to grab some clothes if that is okay?” She explained to you when you nodded playing with the gem on your chest. 

“I am your assistant after all Ms.Neuman. Whatever you say goes.” You attempted to joke when you heard her chuckle laying on the bed with her head a foot away from yours. 

“Thank you by the way…” She mumbled out, you turned your head as she continued, 

“For protecting me. You could have easily ratted me out about my powers but you didn’t. So thank you.” You nodded, turning your attention back to your necklace. 

“Now get some rest, we have things to do in the morning.” You said leaning your head back watching her eyes flutter close. You stayed that way for a few minutes. How can a woman who looks like that be the most dangerous being you’ve known, but why did you feel so connected with her? Well yeah, you should when you pretty much killed for the sake of your living but you had no choice. You had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Frenchie decided to part ways with Nina when Butcher offered him a ‘better’ life, meaning, he didn’t have to continue to kill people that ended on Nina's bad side. You on the other hand, you were her top soldier. ‘My own child’ is what she called you. She claimed you as her own but deep down you knew she wasn’t your mother. She was your boss. She was a monster. 

She made you into a monster. You felt no remorse for every soul you took but you just couldn’t sink your fangs into the woman that rested next to you. The moment you saw her, the beating of her heart was a sound you replayed in your head to remind you that you are in fact still human. She haunted your mind after that night, but you thought to yourself…were you in hers? You’d unconsciously searched for her when the whiff of her perfume engulfed your senses but as the years went by it all turned into hate. You surrendered to your insecurities- look at you. You can’t go a few days without taking a life, and what makes it worse- you need to feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins the second the blood of your victim touches your taste buds or you won't be satisfied and you're off sinking your fangs into another. She is truly better off without you. 

Your eyes slowly fluttered open when the smell of eggs soared through the loft, you fell asleep. Blinking the sleep away, you turned your head to see Victoria sliding the egg off the frying pan into the plate when her eyes caught your low ones. 

“I didn’t want to wake you but I was hungry and I didn’t know if you wanted one- but then I thought did you even eat real food- do you eat real food? I made another one just in case but if you don’t want it that is fine- I just assumed-” You lifted your hand sending her the tiniest smile as you stood from the floor stretching, 

“Thank you.” How thoughtful. She nodded, grabbing her plate walking toward you as she took a seat onto the bed. You walked to the dinning table grabbing the gun chuckling softly, Victoria covered her mouth after she took a bite speaking- 

“What’s got you giggling?” You scoffed mumbling, 

“I’m not giggling- whatever- I was just thinking about the time I first met that connard” You spoke taking a seat on the chair pulling the top of the gun starting your disassembly. 

“I was ordered to meet him at this fish market and I walked in there with this big kid ego when he sent one right here-” You tapped your temple chuckling softly, “The way that man's face drained when I stood back up flicking the bullet off my fingers was something I will always remember.” You leaned back once the gun was now fully taken apart, 

“I killed his brother that day for attempting to rat me out to the FBSA.” Yeah you turned it dark, it was the truth. You used him as leverage when you heard the voice on his phone asking for the location, grabbing him by the throat you asked the man if they really wanted to be affiliated with the underground and when the man said yes? You dug your nails into his throat yanking his esophagus out. 

“Mr. Jean, was his name.” huffing out, you stood from the table grabbing the jacket that laid on the table placing it on. 

“Alright enough memory lane, come on.” Victoria left her plate on the bed as she quickly rushed to place her jacket when you were already removing the chair from the doorknob. 

“Jesus, can you let me put on my shoes-” She scoffed when you were already one foot out the door- You walked down stairs when you were greeted by a familiar face. 

“Oh my god Midnight! I haven’t seen you in foreverrrrr” The woman in front of you gushes running her hand down your chest laying it flat against your stomach. A nervous chuckle was heard from you when your fingers wrapped around the girl's wrist stopping her from grabbing your waistband. 

“Maria, it has been a while.” You mumbled, she beamed with happiness and started talking about how she missed the nights you two spent- a hand was placed on your back when you turned your head to see victoria smiling her way at the girl in front of you who now held a small frown. 

“Oh…so you've been having your fun sucking on someone else huh?” She sassed, you rolled your eyes grabbing Victoria by the wrist walking past the girl. 

“Don’t start your shit Maria.” you spoke out pinching the bridge of your nose with your freehand. You did not want to hear her bullshit right now. Victoria saw your reaction when she turned, sending the girl a quick glance. 

“Shit. Not the allergies!” She laughed out wiping the blood from her nose when you swiped the bottle of vodka that sat on the bar taking a swig. You needed something to wash down the words you wanted to say but you knew it would end in you ripping her head from her shoulders since you found out what she did. Hissing at the sting, you tossed it into the trash opening the door for Victoria as she walked out. You walked behind her, sighing softly. 

“I did not drink from her.” You defended when she scoffed adjusting her coat, 

“I know you didn’t. Why are you so quick to admit that?” You shook your head she casually asked you. Huh, why were you so quick to defend that. She grabbed the door hand when you heard the doors hinges creak a little louder than they should. You hopped in the driver's seat when you flinched at the loud slam. 

“Why are you mad?” She shook her head, 

“I’m not mad, what makes you think I am mad? Why? Are you mad?” Her voice seemed very petty when you rolled your eyes starting the car, 

“I am not mad, but I know that as of right now the club is painted with Marias insides.” Silence was the answer you needed to know that you won this little argument. You heard the splatter of Marias imploded body hit the wall once the door closed. You drove out the parking lot heading towards Victoria's destination. 

“She knew who I was.” She tried to reason but you shook your head raising your hand letting the rest of her excuse die in her throat. 

“It’s fine, she was sleeping with my rival; the spiders. You did me a favor.” She nodded but you couldn’t see the small smile that crept to her face. A rush of warmth swarmed around in her stomach at the thought of you feeling satisfied with what she had done. She killed a woman and you practically thanked her for it, horrible favor to be done but what could go wrong. 

Half an hour passed when you parked the car in front of a nice cozy home. You could smell the pumpkin spice that filled the house once you stepped out of the vehicle. Victoria fixed her coat by placing a hand on her forehead. She was nervous, for what? You followed behind her up the stairs when a hand grabbed a fist full of your jacket shoving your face against the wall. 

“Dammit Mike! They’re with me.” Victoria hissed at the man who had his hand against your head pushing you as much as he could. 

“What’s your name and relationship to the vice president?” Growling into your ear, you tried to shuffle, setting your leg straight when he sent his boot into the back of your knee causing a grunt to fall out of your mouth; kneeling. Victoria tried to shove him off but you remained silent as he attempted to remove his gun from his holster. 

“V. I was hired by her personally to be her assistant.” you grit out grinding your teeth to suppress your fangs that were pressing against your gums. He howled out a laugh letting you go but not without giving you a very rough push sending you to faceplant the ground. 

“An assistant? You need a bodyguard at least.” He towered over Victoria face inches from her when you stood to your feet grabbing his arm spinning him to face you. Twisting his arm back, you tucked your foot behind his, sending him on his back. You brushed off the dust from your jacket, sighing softly. 

“I qualified for both Mr.Mike.” What made the man's face turn red in anger is when he saw your neutral expression. You weren’t phazed, you were just not in the mood to argue with a man. He scrambled to his feet meeting your height when your lips twitched into a small smile as you patted his chest cleaning the leaves that were clung onto his vest. 

“Now if you will excuse me, I have a woman to attend to.” You took a step back following behind Victoria once the rest of her agents were now on the scene. Victoria took a step up the staircase placing her hand on your chest. 

“Zoe is upstairs packing to go to her fathers. Just…don’t expose yourself.” She pleaded when you nodded as she turned to walk up the stairs. You followed suit when a girl that resembled her stood in front of you with her head slightly tilting. 

“You’re V.” She whispered when all you could do was nod glancing at her mother every few seconds. 

“Zoe, this is V. V- Zoe.” You extended your hand as she went to wrap her arms around you causing your body to stiff. 

“You are the person my mom dreams about.” She smiled, grabbing your hand, shaking lightly. Your eyes almost bulged out your head when you saw Victoria clasped her hand over her mouth. 

“Zoe, what did Doctor Graham say about safety?” Victoria scolded when her daughter huffed quotating with her fingers. 

“Never tell anyone about your powers.” 

Snapping your head to her mother, you shook your head hissing, 

“You were impregnated by a Supe?” She shook her head motioning Zoe to her room grabbing your arm moving you down to her room. You paced back and forth rubbing your temples when she closed her bedroom door, 

“I didn’t fuck a supe, would you calm down? Looks like your heads about to-” 

“What? Explode? Well mon amour, I am about two minutes away from it.” You growled out taking a seat on her bed taking a deep breath. “Explain.” 

“I met someone when I was younger and I was dumb in love-” You waved your hand viciously shaking your head, 

“I don’t care about the love story or foreplay. Was he a Supe or not?” She shook her head, kneeling in front of you. 

“No. He is human.” She responded with her hands on your knees. Looking between her eyes you heard her heart race but once you pieced everything together you stood to your feet moving away from her. She didn’t hesitate to tell you and the way she was between your legs made your head buzz. You shook your head huffing, 

“So you've been dreaming of me?” you wanted to steer away from the thoughts of Nina torturing you when you were younger and the conversation about Zoe was triggering, 

“Every now and then.” She answered walking to her closet grabbing her duffle bag, placing clothing inside. You narrowed your eyes on her pulse point that was visible once her hair fell to the side. 

“You’re lying.” Her heart skipped a beat when you took a step back, 

“You invaded my mind for the first few years, it was more of you killing everyone I loved till Zoe came along and there was this…change in you where you were this person who brought me…” She trailed off shaking her head zipping up the duffle bag grabbing the out she had laid out walking to the bathroom shutting it behind her. Groaning, you walked out her room into the hallway seeing Zoe peeking from her room. 

“Mom always said the person in her dream was her knight in shining armor.” You sent her a small smile taking a few steps towards her when she opened the door wider letting you in. Your eyes roamed her room taking in the colors when you kept your smile plastered on. It was the room you pretty much imagined yourself in when you were a child. Zoe took a seat on her beanbag patting the floor in front of her.  You sat on the colorful carpet bringing your knees to your chest, 

“She said that she was trapped in a tower surrounded by monsters and that they captured me too. She said that one night during a thunderstorm all the monsters were slayed and it was her knight who saved her and me.” She explained as she leaned back. Her smile faltered when her eyes locked onto yours. 

“As I got older, I could see her dreams at night. I could hear the voice in her head. I could see…you.” You nodded when she placed a hand on your shoulder and everything around you blurred. Laughter was heard behind you when you turned your head to see Victoria and Zoe on her bed reading some sort of book. 

‘Alright, time for bed you two.’ 

You saw yourself smiling at them. The smile held…love. You chuckled, turning your full attention their way watching the sight before you. 

‘Awe what a party pooper you are.’ Victoria pouted as you scoffed laughing softly. You whistled a tune inching your way to them, Zoe let out a shriek when you dove onto the bed digging your fingers into Zoe’s sides. 

‘Oh! I will show you this party pooper!’ You sang out running your hands up the girls side poking her neck crease causing her to laugh harder. A chuckle was heard next to you when you turned your head meeting Victoria’s eyes with your brows furrowed. You let Zoe go smirking at her mother. 

‘Oh you want to laugh too?’ Diving towards Victoria you tickled her as Zoe joined in. 

You saw the scene in front of you begin to fade when you felt Zoe’s hand give you a light squeeze. 

“She had that dream a few nights ago.” She said after a few beats of silence. “That is how she sees you and I can see that is how you want to see her.” You were quick to scramble to your feet nodding, 

“Okay, no need to read my thoughts.” You breathed out, she shrugged her shoulders glancing at the doorway. 

“The night before she dreamed of Homelander killing us and what scares me about that dream…” She whispered, taking a step towards you, grabbing your hand. You looked into her eyes when you felt your stomach turn. “...you weren’t there to save us.” 

“Ready to go?” Victoria’s head popped into the room when you closed your mouth nodding as you turned. Zoe kept her hand in yours and her mother saw it. Clearing your throat, you let Zoe follow her out when you followed behind. You stopped the staircase when that bastard from earlier was waiting by the door sending you a glare. 

“Mike. Please escort Zoe with Chavez to her fathers. I will be heading to the office.” He nodded, grabbing Zoe’s bag walking out to the car that was waiting to depart. You took the duffle bag from Victoria, 

“Assistant shit.” You whispered, Victoria scoffed but a smile spread across her face. You placed her items in the backseat walking to her side where she was giving Zoe a hug. She went over a few things with the man that stood by the passenger door when you heard a whisper from the man across from you. 

“Verräter” (traitor)

Looking his way, he held the most tiniest smirk when you took a step forward, 

“Je vois que tu es coincé avec des armes” (I see you stuck with guns.) You said, he clenched his jaw chuckling, 

“Nina wird ihren Spaß mit dir haben, wenn sie hört, dass du lebst” (Nina will have her fun with you when she hears you’re alive) You grabbed a fist full of his shirt dragging him to the back of your designated vehicle. 

“SPEAK!” You shouted, Victoria ran to you when you lifted your hand up. Her guards pointed their guns your way, she ordered them to stand down as you shoved him roughly into the SUV. He smiled, 

“Den Untergrund kann man nicht töten. Wir sind wie Kakerlaken. Wir rennen, kommen aber immer wieder zurück.”(You can’t kill the Underground. We are like cockroaches, we run but always come back.) 

No. Nononono… Nina is aliv- 

“He is underground.” You spoke up, Victoria’s eyes widened signaling her men to grab him. He reached from his firearm when you were quicker to grab the top of his hand. Yanking aggressively, your finger moved to click the clip letting it drop into your freehand, piercing it into his abdomen. He hunched over when his head leaned onto your shoulder, 

“Si tu entends ça, approche-toi de moi ou des garçons... je te tuerai.” (If you’re hearing this, come near me or the boys…I’ll kill you.) You gritted into his ear piece shoving him back into the SUV. Taking a few steps away, the guards grabbed the man dragging him off the premises. You marched to the car hopping in, pressing your forehead against the steering wheel. 

“What did he say V?” You shook your head not wanting to drag her into this but you sighed running your hand down your face. Nina can’t be alive. Her office was blown to bits with you and Dani only feet away from her door. Well, everyone has said before that she is the devil herself and she can’t die. 

“Nina is alive.” 

Silence coursed through the car when you continued to drive to the destination that displayed on the GPS. She knew you didn’t want to talk about when she could see the death grip you had on the wheel as you drove through the back roads, so she kept her eyes on the passing trees, letting the scenery distract her from wanting to help you. 

“Who is Grace?” After an hour of silence, you finally asked once your anger subsided. 

“An acquaintance that works for the CIA.” You snapped your head back, she lifted her hand- “It’s okay, she knows you’re on the way.” turning back around, the GPS read you were only a few minutes from the destination. Nodding, you adjusted your grip on the wheel using your free hand to fix your necklace. 

“What’s with the necklace?” Victoria asked, leaning forward placing her chin on the shoulder of the passenger seat. Closing your fist around the gem, you shook your head. 

“I don’t know, it has always been around my neck since I could remember.” You tried finding the memory deep in your fucked up head- trust…but after all these years, you can’t remember. One memory you can remember is during your week ‘trial’ with Red River was the moment you were pushed to your limit. No, it wasn’t them ‘starving’ you to death but it was the guards being so understanding. Giving you water, food, and even a room with a window (of course it was barred) to see the sunlight. You remember a woman walking in with a few guards but the questions she asked were giving you a headache due to the fact you couldn’t remember. 

‘Do you know why the gem was given to you by your parents?’ 

You panicked. The red that painted your vision was not the only thing your eyes could see, but the blood of the guards that splattered across the room. The woman was rushed out of the room right before you could reach her but that only fueled you more. You had the chance to escape but the look on the woman's face sent you into this frozen state letting the rest of their team sedate you. You could of fucking ran. You could of left that fucking place but you didn’t. You were a monster and you didn’t want to be. You thought maybe them doing this could help you find your sanity but telling Victoria all this wouldn’t help you. It’ll only drag you back deeper into this hole you’ve dug. 

It’s been a few minutes since you arrived at the destination displaying a secluded house ran by more guards than you could count. Grabbing the blazer from the passenger seat, you exited the vehicle following Victoria to the front of the house. You adjusted the clothing when fear shot through your nose causing you to look up. 

“It’s been a long time Y/n.”

Your eyes widen at the woman standing on the porch before you. Shaking your head, your hand clutched your chest. 

“It was you.” You whispered, denial settled in your bones. How could it be? This Grace was the woman from the Red River trail. She wasn’t…Red River- 

“I know there is a lot to unpack here, so take a breather okay?” Grace took a few cautious steps down keeping a few feet away from you. You kept shaking your head when Victoria's eyes widened seeing the tears that brimmed your own. 

“No, I- I was little. I didn’t mean to kill those men.” Choking on the words that were struggling to escape your mouth. The woman next to you stood frozen at the vulnerability you exposed when her heart acted before her brain wrapping her arms around you. Her scent engulfed your nose sending your face to plant into her chest. Find a point. Find a point. Find a point- The drumming of her heart made your cries die in your throat. Sniffling, you stayed there. At that moment, you felt…safe.

“I know you didn’t mean too. It was not your fault on what Nina turned you into. You had no other route to learn.” Grace whispered inching towards you, Victoria placed her hand on the back of your head slightly scratching your scalp but she kept her eyes on the woman speaking. 

“Let me help you understand.” 

_______________________________

A/N: So, the tattoos and the meaning behind them are actually mine. I have a sleeve of greek gods and goddess which I am in love with (Currently about to get an Apollo piece done on my chest). Thought it would be cool adding it to the story. (I was gonna add pics for reference but I'm shy lmfao)