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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

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Good People - Final Part

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

It is not often that Wayne is happy with the monotony of work. Tonight is one of those nights, if only because it allows him to think about where he went wrong speaking to Eddie. He had never meant to imply he thought Eddie was like Al; he'd meant the apple and tree comment to for Richard and Steve. However, he does acknowledge why Eddie drew the conclusion that Wayne might have thought Eddie would follow in Al's footsteps.

Wayne's being a hypocrite, applying the logic to one boy, but not the other. And even though he never, not once, thought that Eddie would become Al, he'll never be able to take that thought from Eddie's mind that he had. He can apologize until he's blue in the face, Eddie might even forgive him, but he's not sure Eddie will ever believe him. Not truly.

And how could Wayne expect him to?

No. That's a shame Wayne will take to the grave.

Next strike to Wayne's conscious; the misjudgment of Steve Harrington, and how it ties into the fact Eddie accused him of not trusting his judgement, and, moreover, Eddie being right. Wayne hadn't trusted in Eddie's trust of Steve.

He should have. It's been years since Eddie came home crying about a boy, but what father doesn't see their kid crying over their first heartbreak and doesn't grow protective? And with Eddie, it's even more terrifying. Getting mixed up with the wrong boy could mean bruised ribs, black eyes, or worse.

In a town like Hawkins, a boy would just have to claim Eddie made a sexual advance and his murder could (would) be justified.

Now add the manhunt and being suspected of murderer to that. Well, Wayne's scared for Eddie's life almost every minute of his day.

But it's no excuse. Or if it is, it's a poor one.

Wayne doesn't know the full story but he does know that Steve was with the group of people on Eddie's side; that he was there with the Henderson kid, the Buckley girl, and Nancy Wheeler, digging Eddie out of the rubble from the earthquake, getting him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Steve Harrington was part of the group that saved Eddie's life, and that should have meant more to begin with. Instead, Wayne's been waiting for a shoe to drop that very well isn't coming.

He's going to fix this.

He'll give Eddie his space to be angry with him, and he'll try again in a few days.

When Wayne gets home, around 6:30am, Eddie's van is gone. He's not surprised. He probably left shortly after Wayne did, not leaving sooner just to avoid him.

There is a note on Wayne's bed when he makes it there. Says he's at Steve, and instead of letting Wayne know when he'll return it just says the words 'be back' followed by a bunch of questions marks. He ends it with 'call if worried' and leaves a phone number that must be for the Harrington residence.

Another hurt Wayne can't blame on anyone but himself.

Wednesday passes. Wayne eats breakfast, goes grocery shopping, pretends to care about his shows before sleeping the afternoon away to prepare for another graveyard. Eddie has not returned when he wakes, and two short hours later, he's off to work.

Eddie's van remains gone.

Returns from work Thursday morning and repeats Wednesday. He replaces grocery shopping with laundry and cleaning out the leftovers for trash day tomorrow morning. Goes to work.

Friday morning he returns home. No Eddie. He waits for it to be a more appropriate time, a little before 10:00am to call the number Eddie left.

It rings, rings, rings, then, a voice he hasn't heard in years. Richard Harrington's voice sounds as cold as it always was as the answering machine recites, "You've reached the Harrington's. We are not available. Leave a message."

"This is Wayne Munson. I just wanted to make sure Eddie's- that's he's alright. Let him know that I called. Checked on him. He doesn't need to call back but I'd appreciate it."

He hangs up the phone, lump in his throat. He misses his boy, and he wants to make his right, but he can't force that. Eddie has to always want to make it okay between them.

He's usually off Fridays, but he asked to pick up a shift. He can't face Linda without having fixed this. He spends the morning and afternoon doing all the small fixes he'd been putting off. Anything to keep him busy. He goes to sleep at his usual time, and wakes up two hours before his shift like normal.

Check's his answering machine but if anyone called while he was asleep, they didn't leave a message. There's still no van when he heads to work.

The plant tells him to leave an hour early. He tries to argue to stay but he's just waved off, told to go get some sleep because he's been looking a little worse for the wear.

He gets back to Forest Hills around 5:40am and finds there is another car parked at his home. Not Eddie's van, but the sleek maroon BMW that belongs to Steve Harrington parked where the van usually is.

When he pulls into his spot, the headlights of his truck light up Steve, sitting on his steps, wrapped in a coat. It can't be more than 50℉ outside right now.

Steve stands as Wayne cuts the engine and climbs from his truck. He gets to the front of his truck and Steve speaks.

"Eddie's okay," Steve says, hands shoving deep into his pockets, "I tried to get him to call you back yesterday but, well, you know Eddie."

Wayne nods, because he does know Eddie. "I appreciate you tellin' me. But you coulda just called."

"I could have."

They look at each other for a moment, and just as Steve opens his mouth, probably to tell Wayne he's going to go, Wayne speaks first, "you wanna come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?"

Steve tilts his head slightly to the left before he says, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright," and then Steve steps away from the stairs so Wayne can climb them and let them into the trailer. Steve follows behind silently but with familiarity. He's spent so much of his time here since spring break- the shame crawls through Wayne again. He'd assumed, once upon a time, that Eddie and Steve spent more time here than at Steve's because why would Steve want the trailer park boy in his big fancy house? Now, though, he wonders if it's because this place felt more like a home, even with Wayne's cold shoulder.

Steve sits at their little kitchen table, a luxury they didn't have before because there was no room in the single wide, one bedroom they'd had before. The new double wide (with three bedrooms) offered them a bit more space for a dining area.

Wayne's still suspicious of the government's offer to replace their destroyed home, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny the offer when it was made to him by Jim Hopper (newly returned from the dead back then).

"How do you take your coffee?" Wayne asks, once the machine finishes filling the carafe.

"Oh, I can fix it-"

"Nonsense," Wayne waves him back to sitting, "just tell me."

"I like it with just enough milk to take the scalding heat out of it," Steve says, and while Wayne's not sure just how much that it, he tries anyway.

He sets a cup in front of Steve before taking a seat across from him. "I really do appreciate that you came to tell me Eddie's okay. I want to give him his space but...."

Steve sips his coffee before shooting his cup a small smile. Wayne must have got the ratio right. Then, he looks to Wayne and the smile drops, a more serious expression taking its place and he says, "Eddie wouldn't really tell me what your fight was about, other than, uh, me and that you... overheard some of what I said last time I was here. I don't, like, want to come between you and Eddie, but I'm not, I'm not going to let you scare me away. So, just tell me what I have to do to get Eddie to believe we're cool, and I'll do it. Anything, except for getting out of Eddie's life. 'Cause I won't."

"I would never ask you to do that," Wayne says. Steve squints at him, a look of suspicion now. Completely warranted, given what Steve has known of Wayne thus far. "I owe you an apology, Steve. For how I've been treatin' you."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh. What? Why?"

"You've been nothin' but good to Eddie. For Eddie. And I refused to see that. I made a judgment about you without knowin' anything but your name." Steve let's out a soft 'oh' at that, but Wayne plows on, "And that weren't fair, and it weren't right. I can't undo it, but I want you to know I regret it. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Steve says, after a moment. "I forgive you."

It's Wayne's turn to be surprised. He's a bit speechless. So much so, he takes a page right out of Eddie's book and asks, "are you sure?" which is a question he's never asked after having an apology accepted before, but one Eddie had asked a lot when he first came to live with Wayne, and they were learning to co-exist.

"Yeah. I get it."

He doesn't like that answer. Doesn't like the he contributed to the mind set that gave Steve that answer. "You're allowed to be mad at me for it."

"I think Eddie's mad enough for both of us."

It doesn't feel like closure. It doesn't feel like forgiveness, but Wayne doesn't know what to say. He can't just start sprouting all the bad things he thought about Steve; there's no reason Steve should have to listen to that. But without hearing it, Steve doesn't even know what he's forgiving Wayne for. "I'll be honest with ya, Steve. It feels like you shouldn't."

Steve frowns at him. "Why?"

Why? Why? For all the reasons Eddie yelled at him, and all the things Linda said, and all the agony he's felt these last few days. The guilt and the shame that still eat at him, even as Steve Harrington says he forgives him. "It's too easy."

Those three words have Steve leaning back against the chair. His eyes dance around Wayne's face before taking in the whole of him. Or, what Steve can see of him with from across the table. When Steve meets his eye again, Wayne sees recognition there. "If you can't forgive yourself, I get that. I do. I-I've spent most of my life as one big apology. And I'm not saying that I, like, don't still feel like- what I mean to say, is that, I forgive you. I'm not, like, gonna hold it against you that you were just trying to look out for Eddie, man. Like, two years ago your fears would have been justified, so."

"Don't make it right," Wayne argues, but he doesn't know why.

"No," Steve agrees, "but I'm forgiving you anyway. You think you're the first person to hear the name Steve Harrington and assume you know everything you need to know about me already?"

Steve's words sound like they could be confrontational, but his tone is light. Teasing? Wayne says, "no. Suppose I'm not."

"Every person I love has done that," Steve says, and the ease of which he says that has Wayne feeling some sort of way. Eddie's words echo in his mind 'you made me help him feel that way'. How many other people have made him feel like he's a bad person? "Even- even Eddie. He made a point, during spring break, to, uh, well, he didn't apologize for anything because there was nothing to apologize about, but he made a point to tell me I was very 'metal' and a 'cool dude' so.... I know my name comes with, like, a shadow or a curse or whatever. I think it will for as long as I live in Hawkins, but that's," Steve flaps his hand in the air, as if that fills in for the word he can't find, and it's a move so reminiscent of Eddie. "Anyway, if you aren't actually, like, ready to accept an apology, you shouldn't be making one."

Wayne sits in that for a moment. There's a lot more to Steve Harrington than he'd ever thought. So much he doesn't know, actually, but he thinks he's okay with learning more. This boy told Eddie he was half-way in love with him earlier this week, and while Wayne never heard Eddie say it back, he knew anyway. It's why he was so protective. "You're pretty wise for your age."

Steve grins and shakes his head. "Nah, that last part was all Robin. She says it all the time to me."

"Well, then you best stop apologizing when you ain't ready to accept the forgiveness," Wayne parrots back the words.

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

They finish their coffee with silence and small talk. Steve tells him about how he never thought he'd miss his job at the video store but working at Melvald's is making him long for the days when the biggest complaint was late fees. Apparently, there's so many more things to complain about in retail.

Wayne talks about working at the plant and how the tasks are repetitive and a bit labor intensive, but the graveyard pay is worth it. Steve asks him a few more questions about working at the plant that Wayne's happy to answer and the more Steve asks, the more Wayne becomes aware that Steve might be looking for a change of occupation. He makes a mental note to put in a good word to Floyd, just in case.

Steve leaves with the promise of returning with Eddie, as soon as possible. As he was heading to the door, Wayne asked why he showed up so early.

"Eddie can't stop me if he's not awake," was Steve's answer, a mischievous grin on his face.

Wayne watches from the porch as Steve backs out. Steve shoots him one last little wave with his fingers before heading away.

He goes back inside and washes the dishes. Even dries and puts them away, a feat usually done once a week; he and Eddie have no qualms with using dishes directly from the dish drainer. His only other chore for the day is leaving for work a bit early so he has time to stop at the gas station and fill up the truck.

Grabbing the remote from its spot on the coffee table, Wayne plops onto the couch to spend his day as mindlessly as possible with some TV.

He goes to sleep at his usual time and wakes up at 7:43pm according to his alarm clock; a little over two hours before his shift is to start. It's time for more coffee, he thinks as he dresses for work before heading to the kitchen.

He jerks to a stop when he sees Eddie and Steve sitting on the couch, leaned close and talking softly. He's not about to repeat a past mistake, so he makes his presence known. "Evenin' boys."

Eddie pops up from the couch quick as lightning, taking a few steps towards Wayne before stopping. "I don't like being mad at you."

Wayne nods, "I don't much like you bein' mad at me, either. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Eddie closes the distance between them, then, and pulls Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne returns it instantly, how can he not? He hears Eddie say, softly, "it's worth an awful lot, you terrible old man."

They part, and Eddie speaks first, "but if you ever pull shit like this again, I won't be so quick to forgive."

"I won't," Wayne says, at the same time Steve says, "he won't."

Both Munsons look at Steve, who grins back at them.

"You think you know my uncle that well already, from one shared cup of coffee?" Eddie asks, sounding amused.

Steve shrugs, "no. I just, uh, plan to stick around, y'know. Kinda hoping there's no dude after me for him to be an angry dad about. I would appreciate it, though, Mr. Munson, if you'd skip the shovel talk bit of all this?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and Wayne's a bit shocked by what Steve's implied. What Steve's admitted, really, out loud in front of another person. Wayne wonders if any boy Eddie's ever liked before would have done that.

"What good's a shove talk when you've already told me you ain't goin' anywhere?" Wayne says, hoping his tone is as light and teasing as he wants it to be.

"Glad we're on the same page," Steve agrees, "but, uhh, do you want me to go? So you can have a real talk?"

"No," says Eddie.

"No," says Wayne, at the same time.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, in that case, you got anything to drink here besides coffee?"

Wayne nods and they all pile into the kitchen to get a beverage before settling in the living room. There will be time to talk later, Wayne realizes. He's going to apologize properly.

Later, though, when he'll really be ready to accept Eddie's forgiveness, because there's no doubt Eddie'll forgive him. So, he's going to sit in the living room and chat with his boys until he has to go to work.

By the time Friday comes around again, he'll be able to tell Linda she was right, everything's going to be okay one day, and maybe ask her on a date he's been putting off asking for since high school.

Done!! I hope the ending is sufficiently cheesy.

I'm so sorry if I missed you! There were a lot of people asking to be tagged haha

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @kaij-basil-lionelli88 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mugloversonly @limpingpenguin @krazyperson @acrolius @salisbury-at-the-stake @littlebookworm86 @savedbytheirmusic @wxrmland @myownworstenemyyy @thelittleclare @awkotaco24 @djohawke @wrenisflying @croatoan-like-its-hot @actualwakingnightmare @krowepoison @jamieweasley13 @yourmom-isgay @irregular-child @oldwitcheshat @abstractnaturaldisaster @wishiwasacasualfan @vinteraltus @zerokrox-blog @warlordess @stevesbipanic @steveshairspray @slowandsteddie @samsoble @waelkyring @just-a-tiny-void @saramelaniemoon @halfadoginatank @nightmareglitter @scarletyeager @hellfireone @rovia2312 @munsonslure @a-little-unsteddie @soaringornithopter @eddiethehunted @starlight-archer @dryptid @inkjette

#steddie #my fic #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne pov #was this resolved on a quicker timeline than makes sense for men in the 80s?#maybe. but i dont care because if i wanted realism i would be asking my dad about the gripes and grudges he holds against his dad #(he was a teenager in the 80s)#but i wanted soft munson family vibes so you are all welcome for that #also please know that eddies not magically over it.#it's been four days of steve pestering him and reminding him that wayne loves him and he loves wayne #sorta edited. if u see a mistake no you didnt #OH NO I FORGOT THE READ MORE IM SO SORRY. added now

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aboutcustardcreams · 5 months ago

Note

I truly love your agathrio x reader stories 💕, is there anyway to get a continuation after motherhood. To see what happens with Nicky and how they all manage to keep going on with their lives together or separate. Again really love your work❤️❤️❤️❤️

Action and Reaction (1)

Summary: The ritual of resurrection begins. Everything seems to be going smoothly, but will it last?

Enjoy it witches, and happy New Year <3

previous chapter

Agatha slowly lifted her face from Nicky’s chest to look at you. Her eyes were so red and puffy, she struggled to see through. “Please, hurry– please–” the desperation in her tone shattered your already broken heart.

Swallowing, you nodded shakingly, “I-I’m doing it as fast as I can, Agatha.”

You haven’t let yourself grieve for a second, working restlessly instead, with your fingers tracing runes meant to bless your spell, and act as protection, too.

Your lover bit the inside of her cheek, glancing between you and Nicky. A whirlwind of thoughts going on inside her head. This was it, the moment of truth.

Rio had taken the boy, just as she had promised she would. Yet, even with the warning, the moment struck like a thief in the night. None of you were truly prepared for it, despite having known from the day he was born, Nicky was destined to die. When Rio reversed the incantation and her magic hurled you and Agatha back into your bodies, both of you fell into a heavy, dreamless, cursed sleep. It was during that span of time that Lady Death claimed your son, slipping away into the shadows before you could awaken.

You sniffled and wiped at your tear-streaked face with the back of your hand. You felt guilty, incredibly so. Had Nicky been scared? Had he tried to call out for you and Agatha, when Rio showed up? Had he cried? Only a couple of hours prior, when you met Rio, she had assured you that her intentions were to talk to you and Agatha only. Nicky didn’t have much longer to live, but she hadn’t shown up to take him away. That’s what she said. And like a fool, you’d believed her. How stupid had you been. Rio had had the audacity to meet your gaze and Agatha’s and feed you lies with such disarming ease that it made you want to double over and retch.

“I can’t believe she did that–” you choked on an angry sob. Agatha lifted her chin to meet your gaze. Big tears were streaming down your face without rest. There was dirt in your fingers as you scraped through the soil; some on your face too as you kept wiping at it. “Fuck— we knew it was meant to happen, but she said–” you exhaled shakingly and shook your head in disbelief. “She said she only wanted to talk. That she wouldn’t take him tonight.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, a shadow passed through her once bright blue eyes. Her brows furrowed as she wondered if you hated Rio now, if you were capable of feeling such hatred for a woman that for centuries, you loved so deeply.

“She made her choice,” her voice came out in a low, raspy whisper.

Narrowing your eyes at her, your hands stilled on your knees. Chest rising and falling heavily, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in your lungs.

“And I made mine. She is dead to me.”

You blinked away more tears, biting down on your trembling lip as you nodded to yourself. There was no justifying Rio’s actions, not this time. She had lied to you. She made you believe Nicky still had time, but instead, she took him away. And what’s worse, she deprived you and Agatha of the chance to stay with him, to hold him and tell him to not be afraid, because you’d have saved him. In the end, you’d have brought him back, despite Rio’s warning.

“What are these for?–” Agatha began, eyes trying to decipher the meaning of the runes, you so meticulously drew around her and Nicky. “It’s the first time you use runes to perform the ritual.”

You hummed with a nod, moving a strand of hair from your face. “You’re right. Consider this as a little upgrade,” despite the slight waver in your voice, it didn’t lack playful determination. “I mean to contact my lineage to gather as much power as possible,” you continued. Agatha’s brows furrowed. You meant ‘gather’ as in.. ‘take’? “Not that mine isn’t enough. But I’m not taking any chances tonight. I need all the help I can get.”

Agatha’s hands tightened around Nicky’s body, as she processed your words. In her eyes you spotted a silent warning, though. She knew better than anyone else what came with turning into a succubus. You weren’t one, but she was. And while she was used to the feeling, you weren’t. And that could be overwhelming if not handled wisely. Dangerous, too.

“I beg you to be careful, my love.”

You nodded, a gentle smile crossing your lips, as you reached out to cup her damp, pale cheek, “I’ll only take what they offer. Not a touch beyond that.”

She leaned into your touch and tried to reciprocate your smile.

She couldn’t shake off the fear caused by Rio’s words from earlier. If you pursued this pact, your life would be the one at the stake. And though she thought of you as one of the strongest witches ever encountered, one that could easily overcome any challenges thrown at you, a part of her still wondered if your power could ever outmatch Rio’s, or that of the Fates themselves. She took a silent vow, a witch vow, exactly on that full moon night, of which you knew nothing about, but in all honestly you didn’t need to. From that moment on, it was her job to make sure you would be protected from whatever curse or evil would come your way once the ritual was completed.

“Tell me about the passages,” she demanded, concern lacing her tone. “Everything. I need to know everything.”

Gently, you placed a hand behind Agatha’s neck, drawing her closer until the warmth of her skin and the familiar, comforting scent of her surrounded your senses. You breathed her in, then soothed the panicked frame of mind she was in, with a tender kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Here’s the plan,” you began, in a soft and calming tone. “You know, Nicky is part of us, but due to his unfortunate condition at birth, he never managed to develop any powers as he should have-”, you pointed out. Agatha’s lashes fluttered, as she mirrored your exact sense of guilt. “It was his right, as the son of witches to be born with magic, whether it came from me, you or…Rio.”

A pause followed. You bowed your head and glanced over at your son. When you reached out to touch his cheekbone, your breath hitched at how unnaturally cold it felt.

Your voice wavered, “I’m not going to just bring him back as a mortal. No, that wouldn’t be enough,” you angrily wiped at your eyes again. “That would have been enough once, but now–” a humourless scoff slipped from your lips. “Now I want more. More for him, for you and for me.”

Agatha held her breath as she listened to you. The way your demeanor had changed since your last encounter with Rio was something she imagined could happen to her but never to you. And that could only fuel her hatred for Rio for the things she did and how deeply they affected you.

“I’m done doing what it’s expected of me. My power is mine and mine alone to control. Nobody will dictate how I use it anymore. So, here’s what I’m gonna do– I’ll seal this ritual with blood magic, and when I’m done, Nicky will rise stronger than ever before.”

Agatha appeared conflicted, her gaze dropped to Nicky. You meant to perform a kind of magic among the most dangerous. She knew where you had read of it: the Darkhold, but she never thought your intention was that of using it for Nicky someday. If the spell succeeded, the child would inherit your power and the lifespan of a true witch. But all magic demanded a price, and the cost of this spell… even Agatha, with all her knowledge, couldn’t foresee it.

Your breath hitched, your chest tightened as you muttered, “please, tell me you’re okay with that–”

Agatha’s eyes met yours again. She exhaled softly through her nose, her shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I won’t tell you how to use your power. Not that I ever did,” she began, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes, a spark you couldn’t help but mirror despite the tension. Her voice softened as she continued, a raw honesty breaking through. “All I want is you and Nicky by my side. Both healthy and happy and– if by doing this, I get that, so be it,” she reached for your hand, before squeezing it, while the other was still tangled in Nicky’s hair. “Save our son.”

You nodded quietly, then. Nothing would stop you now. Agatha’s blessing was all you needed So screw the Fates, and screw Rio,

Agatha’s eyes landed on you as you let go of her hand, to press both palms over the soil, fingertips scraping a bit, as if to grab onto something.

Taking in a long breath, you bowed your head and started your invocation.

I call upon Drusilla, Lysandra and Talìa, keepers of forbidden knowledge, and therefore hanged by the ignorant. I call upon Elara, Calysta and Fenra, whose visions guided their coven, and bend the veil between life and death.

The spirits of your ancestors channeled their energy, the earth beneath you trembling with their power, while a gentle wind swept through your hair. The silver hue of your magic mingled with the black of your sisters’, blending seamlessly as if it was meant to be. At that point, magic crawled out of your digits, flowing like a viscous substance towards the runes you carved in the dirt.

Agatha’s breath hitched, her arms instinctively tightening around Nicky.

The circle surrounding her flared to life, each rune glowing brighter as the names you summoned answered your plea. But her focus shifted when she noticed the glow wasn’t limited to the runes, you were glowing too.

“You look…” Agatha began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gorgeous.”

Your eyes snapped open, and glazed down at your hands, then back at Agatha.

“Woah this… this feels good.” Flexing your fingers, you let out a breathless, almost disbelieving chuckle.

“Are you really okay?”

You scooted closer to them, nodding promptly. “Yeah– it feels like nothing can stop me now that I’ve got my sisters’ blessing,” you explained with a smile. “I can feel them. They– they want to help me save our son.”

Agatha reciprocated your smile. “What are you gonna do now?”

Glancing down at your son, your brows furrowed slightly, “I need to make a small cut over his palm.”

Agatha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her protective instincts flaring, as she guarded you. “Okay, yeah–”

“It’s gonna be over soon,” you reassured her.

She nodded her head, without adding another word.

You reached down, pulling the blade from its hidden sheath in your boot, its cool metal settling heavily in your right hand. Agatha gently lifted Nicky’s palm then, holding it steady despite her own shaking.

The knife felt impossibly heavy in your grip.

When the blade met his tender, unblemished skin, a sharp pain lanced through you, as though the cut was your own.

Agatha clenched her eyes shut, her shoulders trembling as new tears streaked her face, falling as quickly as Nicky’s fresh droplets of blood.

“Okay,” you sniffled, your voice cracking as you tutted as if Nicky could hear you. “Now it’s mama’s turn.”

Less gently, as if you wanted to punish yourself for what happened, you sliced your own palm, and hissed at the pain it unfolded.

Blood dripped from your wound, but along with it, there was something else too, your magic, both black and silver pouring down like summer rain. You took in a deep breath before pressing that same palm against Nicky’s injured one.

Fili mi, redi ad me. Renuntia morti et vitam a me accipe. Repere ex tenebris et proditione. Ut magia sanguinis sit benedictio et non maledictio.

Agatha’s eyes snapped wide open the moment she realized something. Nicky’s lifeless form remained heavy in her arms, but something was changing.

His once cold body now felt warmer—

“Yes-” She breathed out. “I think it’s working. Keep going! Keep going!”

The air around him seemed to shift, a faint, gentle breeze stirring his long, tousled brown hair. Your breath quickened, your entire body tingled.

“He’s coming back to us,” you answered, his skin matching yours as it glowed. “I can feel him…,” you glanced down at him, hope flickering in your orbs.

Agatha watched you lower yourself, your lips brushing against the tip of his nose, then to each of his cheeks, no longer cold.

When you cupped his face, his mouth parted a bit, as if his lungs were claiming the first, second breath of air. You’d be the one giving him that. Nicky flinched in Agatha’s arms, the moment you -ever so gently- blew into his mouth, and then whispered one last spell.

Vitalum, vitalis.

Present Time

“Impressing, isn’t it?” Teen asked as he guarded your side profile.

You nodded weakly, an expression of pure stupor settled on your face, as you kept your chin up in awe, “yeah, definitely.”

Agatha was a couple of steps ahead of you, her face unreadable, as she studied the trees, the leaves, and the path stretching before you. On a silver lining, you outrun the Salem Seven, and had an entire coven as back up just in case, they would show up again. Which was very likely, all things considered. The downside was that Agatha had still no magic and was probably going to be pretty grumpy for the time being.

“Is it how you remember it, Agatha?” Lilia asked her.

She looked at you, and then at the older witch, with a hum that sounded rather indecisive. A fake smile stretched on her lips. “More or less. Quite a bit chillier, though.”

“I can light a fire,” Alice suggested casually.

Agatha scrunched up her nose as first response. “No, we should get going. We can take a break further on.”

You dew closer, your fingers brushed against hers, “going where?”

“Well, down the Road, silly–” she quipped, her voice light, definitely fake. If you didn’t know Agatha, you might think she wasn’t worried at all—that she even had some grand plan to get over every trial. But you knew better.

Sighing, you cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, silly me indeed.” You trailed off, with your fingers tapping playfully at her arm, you caught the way her tongue pressed against her cheek. A tell that she was trying to keep her nerves in check. So like Agatha.

Glancing around, you noted the others were too preoccupied with observing the surroundings to pay attention. Taking the chance, you gently pulled Agatha aside, against an ancient tree.

“Do you think this is really the Road?”

“How would I know that?” she snapped, though her tone was hushed. “It appeared out of nowhere–”

You flinched at her sharpness. You scoffed. “Well, I’m sorry if I’m worried,” you averted your gaze from her and crossed your arms over your chest, defensively.

Agatha sighed at the sight of you. Her gaze softened and a pout formed to her lips. “No, don’t apologize–” her arm draped around your middle. The movement unraveled you, your arms falling to your sides like thawing ice. You’d always melt for her, it wasn’t even a question. “I am sorry,” she said quietly, but sincerely, her head tilting to meet your eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m worried too, but I cannot let it show…”

You followed her gaze as she motioned at the other witches with her eyes. “They think I have all the answers, that I know where this road leads and how to get them to the end in one piece. If we break the act now, it’ll all fall apart. We can’t let that happen.”

You nodded your head, exhaling softly. “You’re right–” a sheepish smile crossed your lips. “I freaked out for a minute, but I’m all good now. I promise.”

A hum slipped from your lover’s lips, both thoughtful and amused, as she pulled you closer. With her front pressed against hers, she brushed her lips to your forehead. Her eyes fell shut, as she inhaled in your scent, silently praying to whoever was listening to keep you safe. “It’s okay. None of us expected such a thing.”

If this was really the Witches’ Road, it meant that there was a trial waiting for each of them, and there was no guarantee of surviving. Agatha remembered Teen’s words, regarding the road. At its end– if you survive, the thing you most desire awaits for you. Such a simple premise: all you had to do was make it through. As if survival were child’s play. Agatha’s frustration clawed at her throat, threatening to erupt in a scream, but she swallowed it down and smiled instead.

“Don’t wander off.” Her thumb traced soothing circles against your side. “Stay close to me. Always.”

You chuckled to yourself, then clicked your tongue in a teasing way. “I should be the one saying that to you.”

She dropped her eyes, the angles of her lips curled down. You sighed, immediately regretting your wording choice. “Hey– you’ll get it back. One way or another. I’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded reluctantly, “I know. I just hate feeling this useless. ” Depending on other witches for her safety was a bitter pill to swallow. She didn’t mind you, obviously, considering all the things you went through, together.

Your eyes rolled dramatically, “you’re not useless, Aggie. Don’t say that.”

“Right now, I am,” her voice was laced with bitterness and annoyance.

You shook your head again and poked at her chest. “No,” you insisted. “Don’t make me blast you.”

An amused grin tugged at her lips. matching yours, “don’t threaten me with a good time, love.”

You chuckled again, Agatha’s fingers drummed over your hips teasingly, “you love it.”

“I love you ,” her answer was so prompt, it made your stomach flip. Hadn’t it been for her hands steading you, your knees would have given in.

You reached out, your fingers playing with the tips of her long curly hair. “I love you too,” you whispered, pressing a small, delicate kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Are you two done with the flirting?” Jen asked, interrupting your moment.

Agatha rolled her eyes with a grunt.

You turned around, tongue darted over your lips as you tutted teasingly, “why, Kale? Feeling left out?” Agatha still had one arm wrapped around your waist. Her possessiveness was driving you wild. In the best way possible, obviously. However, this was absolutely the wrong place and the worst possible time for your thoughts to wander in that direction.

Jen’s face turned crimson, “Pfft- don’t be ridiculous!”

Agatha’s amusement flickered away, the moment you slipped out of her grasp. “Hey!” she snapped, her tone halfway between a scold and a whine.

You shot her a cheeky grin and winked. “Before you two start another round of bickering, I suggest we get moving.”

Without waiting for a response, you strode up the Road, taking the lead as the other witches exchanged glances before trailing after you.

Agatha hesitated for only a moment, before quickening her pace to catch up and be next to you. Leaning in close, her breath tickled your ear as she whispered, “What part of ‘stay close to me’ wasn’t clear?”

You glanced at her with playful affection, “feeling clingy, Aggie?”

“Clingy?” She scoffed, blowing a raspberry. “What’s that? I’m not clingy.”

A soft laugh slipped from your lips that only served to quicken Agatha’s heartbeat. “I’m protecting you. There’s a difference,” she insisted, matter of factly.

You rolled your tongue, before adding, “protect me all you want, my love. And oh, while you’re at it, don’t forget to hold my hand.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. With a huff that was far too soft to be genuine, she grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly, “only because it makes Jen uncomfortable.”

You nodded, unconvinced. “It’s surely the only reason,” you hummed, with a smile.

#agatha all along #wlw #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader #agathario x reader #witches' road #ahs references #kathryn hahn x reader #kathryn hahn #AAA

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pit-and-the-pen · 10 months ago

Text

Three's a crowd

Summary: After finding out your mate, Cassian, had slept with Nesta you let slip that you wouldn't mind her joining you and Cassian.

Cassian x reader established relationship, Smut (18+)Female reader, m/f/f threesome, mean dom Nesta, soft dom Cassian, Sub reader, impact play, subspace kinda, fingering, oral (m/f receiving), orgasm denial, lots of praise, lots of safe word checks. Two mentions of spit.

Idea by the lovely @sarawritestories <3

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

It started out as an innocent story telling session with your family. Nothing out of the ordinary, a bottle or two of wine shared in your cozy living room. Nesta, Emery, Gwen and you sitting on your couches feet tucked up as laughter filled the air. Your mate, Cassian, was out grabbing a few drinks with his brothers at Rita’s so naturally you invited all your friends.

The hours passed like minutes, Gwen recounting some story about a unicorn that had Nesta and Emery roaring with laughter, shouting over each other with “That’s not how it happened!” “Tell it right, Gwen!”

“What he did like me more. I know you were too busy getting your world rocked by Cas to remember anything correctly but-” Gwen gasped before clamping a hand over her mouth. You felt your eyes widen, letting the words sink in. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I…shit.” The red head knocked back the rest of her glass of wine. Nesta’s cheeks had tinged pink right up to the long tips of her ears.

“It’s fine. I promise.” You said, taking a long sip of your own. Nesta’s head snapped to yours.

“What?”

“It’s no big deal. If I got jealous over every person Cassian has ever slept with, I would never know a moment of peace.” You laughed lightly to yourself. And you truly didn’t mind. Maybe only slightly because she hasn't told you but that’s the past.

“Did I hear my name?” Speak of the devil. Cassian strolled into the living room, pressing a quick peck to the top of your head as he flopped down onto the couch next to you.

“Only talking about how much of a rake you used to be.” Another laugh drew out of you at his faux scandalized face.

“Me?”

“Yes you.” You poked right in between his ribs and he jumped slightly. Playfully batting away your hand.

“And why, pray tell, are we discussing that?”

“Gwen said you slept with Nesta. Well I believe her exact words were ‘rocking Nesta’s world’” Cassian’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. You brushed a gentle hand on his cheek. “And I was just telling her that I’m fine with it.”

“You are?” You only nodded, draining the rest of your wine glass.

“It was forever ago. I haven't even met you yet.” He tried to explain, words tumbling out.

“Cas.” You cut him off, placing a hand on his thigh. “I really really don’t mind. I mean who wouldn’t want to sleep with Nesta.” It was your turn to blush. The sound of Gwen sputtering reminded you that you were in your very full living room that suddenly felt very small. You shot up to your feet, nearly stumbling over your own limbs.

“I’m going to grab more wine.” You practically shouted and turned to leave the room. Trying not to run to the small wine cabinet, you were cursing yourself mentally.

“You got out of there pretty fast.” Cassian said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to look her in the eye again.” You groaned, pressing your forehead against the cool wood of the cabinet.

“Very easily actually. Did you mean it though?”

“What part?” Your breath hitched in your throat as Cassian kissed up your neck.

“Do you want to sleep with Nesta?” Your heartbeat sped up as you tried to fight back the thoughts. Nesta was gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that. And you’d be lying if you said you never considered it. You loved your mate wholeheartedly but there was nothing wrong with looking. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Cassian to point out a fae or two that caught your eye at Rita’s, so this was no different.

“Princess?” Cassian froze, mouth hovering right over your pulse point.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?” Your voice was small, cheeks burning hot. He chuckled against your neck, continuing his path of kisses.

“No.” His mouth was right against your ear. “Do you want her to join us in our bed?” He practically purred it and you gasped as his teeth toyed with your ear lobe. You could only nod your head. “Interesting. I’ll talk to her. But, be warned princess. She’s just as vicious in bed as she is out of bed.” He left one final bite to the column of your throat and unwrapped himself from around you. Leaving you trembling and wondering just exactly what you had gotten yourself into. And oh so excited for it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why don’t you go over your colors for Nesta, Princess.” Cassian’s hand rested lightly on your jaw, tugging your face up to look at him. You knelt in front of him, naked with your palms resting on your thighs.

“Yes, General. Green is okay, yellow means slow down or I’m starting to get uncomfortable. And red means stop.”

“Good girl.” Cassian said, running a hand through your hair. “And if you can’t talk? Like if Nesta was sitting on that pretty little face of yours?” Your breath hitched at the image he painted for you. You licked your lips as you let your mind wander. A slight tap on your head pulled you out of your dirty thoughts.

“Right. One tap is good, two means slow down, and three is stop.”

“Good girl. Now our rules are I can touch you, Nesta, but no fucking. Anything else I’m missing, princess?”

“No, General.”

“Alright. Now show Nesta just exactly how good you can be.” He stepped back, letting Nesta step in front of you.

“Can I touch you?” She asked, eyes roving over your naked form. She still had on a silk robe, tied loosely but covering anything that mattered.

“Yes.” You said and her hand instantly tangled into the roots of your hair, pulling your head back to the ceiling. A small yelp left your mouth and she gave you a feline smile.

“Oh you’re going to be fun to play with.”

Nesta didn’t waste time before she had you ass up on the bed. Circling you with your favorite paddle in her hand. Your head was in Cassian’s lap, his straining cock right in front of you, throbbing, as you ran the tip of your tongue out to trace the veins that ran underneath.

A loud smack filled the room and your shriek died off to a moan.

“No touching him, yet.” She called out. You whimpered and Cassian ran a gentle hand through your hair. Another smack.

“No touching her either, General.” She teased. “You have to earn touching him.” One more smack, harder than the others. Your foot kicked up at the feeling. The tinge of delicious pain that ran through you making you moan loudly.

Nesta delivered hit after hit until tears stung your eyes. Cries bubbling out of your throat. Cassian’s cock was leaking, listening to your sweet noises but not being able to touch you. His hands were clenched tight by his side, fighting the urge to thread his fingers into your hair and push you down onto his aching cock.

One last smack pulled a yelp from your throat. Slightly different from the others. Cassian swore under his breath.

“Gods Nesta. I don’t even hit that hard during punishments.” He tapped your cheek lightly, asking for your eyes on him. You did so instantly. “Color?”

“Green. Very much green.”

Another sharp hit, the paddle whipping through the air.

“Is that how you address him?” Nesta asked. You shook your head.

“No. I’m sorry, General.”

Cassian had his eyes narrowed on Nesta as he answered you. “It’s okay, Princess. You’re doing great.” You didn’t need to see Nesta to know she rolled her eyes, a small sigh leaving her lips.

“Aren’t you just dying to get your mouth around him?” She purred as her hand started rubbing at your now red backside. You nodded, which earned you a small snack with her hand this time.

“Gods. Yes.” You answered. Her hand gently ran up the curve of your back, her lithe body following it until she was leaning over you.

“Then put that pretty mouth to use, or is it only good for screaming?” You didn’t get a chance to answer before she tangled a hand into your hair and pulled you onto Cassian rock hard cock. His loud moan echoed through the room as he instantly hit the back of your throat. You gagged, trying to breathe through your nose. A string of curses left his mouth and his hand tried to rest on your head. The sound of a sharp slap filled the room as Nesta smacked his hand away.

“I didn’t say you could touch her yet.” She hissed and pulled you off of him. A string of spit connecting your lips and the tip of him. “Color?” She asked you, you didn’t hesitate.

“Green.”

Her eyes flickered back to Cassian.

“See. She can take it. Now keep your hands to yourself before I tie them up.” She winked and that was all the time you got before she was pushing you back down onto Cassian. You were better prepared this time. Relaxing your throat and taking a short breath through your nose. Nesta praised you as she pulled your head up and down, controlling your every move. You were a whining mess under her as you wanted to be able to touch Cassian, run your hands up and down his thick thighs, cup his heavy balls the way that would make him moan your name and have him spill down your throat.

“Enough.” She said and pulled you off of him again. She kept tugging until you were sitting on your knees, chest heaving as you gulped down precious air. Her hands rest lightly around your neck and she pushes you back against the bed, your hair hanging over the edge.

She slings her legs over your chest, putting all of her weight right in the center. She curls a finger at Cassian, beckoning him to you.

“Make her scream, General.” She purrs at Cassian and that’s all it takes for him to throw your legs apart. He runs a finger through your folds and groans when he finds you soaked. He thrusts two fingers into you, scissoring them to stretch you out for him.

“Are you ready for me, princess? Think you can take me?” He coos and you cry your yes. Followed by a string of please. The words die off in your throat as he pushes his tip in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your mate entering you.

Cassian sinks into you fully as Nesta’s fingers give your nipples a harsh tug. Your moan is quickly cut off by her thumb sliding into your mouth.

“I think that’s a much better use for that loud mouth of yours, don’t you think Cas?” Your skin flushed as she talked about you like you weren’t even there. Cassian’s only answer was a sharp thrust of his hips, a move that would have sent you further up the bed if it wasn’t for Nesta’s weight on the center of your chest. His finger rubbing tight lethal circles on your clit.

“Fuck. Everytime, it’s like you were made for me.” He spoke through clenched teeth. Slowing his thrust down to let you feel every inch of him.

Your eyes shut close as you felt that coil tighten in your stomach. Biting into Nesta’s thumb as you fought back screams. Your body jolted when Nesta gave your breast a sharp slap.

“Not yet.” Was all she barked before she pressed that same hand low on your belly. Your body shook as it only served to amplify every thrust, singeing every nerve in your body.

Your head starts to feel a little fuzzy, slipping into that delicious headspace that only Cassian could give to you. Your hand sneaks across the bed, searching for his warm hand to stop you from fully floating away, not entirely sure of yourself with Nesta around. Nesta’s foot comes to rest on your wrist, pinning it down hard enough that you gasp. Nesta’s weight is off of you instantly. Cassian slipping out of you with a growl. Blinking off the haze in your eyes, you see Cassian holding Nesta’s neck lightly.

“Cool off Nes.This is her first time. If my mate wants the comfort of my touch, then that’s what she gets. Do you understand?” Cassian growls. Something in Nesta’s eyes switches. That hard edge melts away and a flush rises over her cheeks. She mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?” His tone is softer now. Nesta’s eyes don’t meet his.

“Yes sir.” Her voice is shaky.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise in question. He removes his hand from her neck, sliding it down her body. She shudders at the contact. Cassian leans in close until his mouth is just an inch away from her ear.

“I think you can do better than that, right Nes?” Nesta’s eyes flicker to you. You give her a small nod of encouragement, eyes wide at the scene unfolding in front of you. Still hazy from the orgasm you had been denied.

“Yes, sir.” Nesta’s words are more firm. Cassian groans at the tone.

“Better. Now I think we owe our girl over there something, don’t you?” Nesta bites her lip and nods.

Cassian turns his attention to you “Color, princess?”

“Y..yellow.” You stuttered out. “Just wanna touch you.” Your voice was small and shaky. The tell tale sign that you were starting to get overstimulated.

“Are you okay with Nesta staying?”

You think for a second then nod. His eyes soften and he runs a soothing hand through your hair. He places a kiss on your forehead and you all but melt against him. Dipping your head down to rest in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you and he shifts you to his lap, making you straddle him.

“Like this?” He asks and you nod again. You raise your hips and whimper as you sink down onto him. You throw your head back as he bottoms out, hitting that sweet spot inside you right away. He gives you a few breaths to adjust to the new position. Then he hooks an arm over your shoulder and grinds you down on him, short quick thrusts that pull high pitched mewls from you.

“Nesta.” You say between cries. The blonde was quickly by your side. You grabbed her cheeks between your hands and pulled her lips to yours. She swallowed every one of your moans, chasing them like they were oxygen.

One of your hands snaked down her smooth stomach, feeling every muscle that her training has given her until you reach between her thighs. You trailed a tentative finger through her center. Drawing a moan from both of you as you circled her clit, applying the pressure the same way you would to yourself. Her hips bucked at the contact. Her own hand cupping the back of your head as the other started playing with your nipples. You slipped a finger into her, the sound of both of your slick filling the air. You paced your finger to the timing of Cassian’s thrusts. Your legs were shaking around Cassian and he moaned as you clenched around him.

“Good girl. Fuck, you gonna cum all over my cock?” You moaned your yes. Not pulling away from Nesta’s soft lips. She nipped at your lower lip as you added another finger into her. Trying to get her to her own release.

“Go ahead. Gods, you’re squeezing me like crazy, princess.” His words mixed with the sharp tug on your nipples had your whole body tensing. You pulled away from Nesta, fingers stilling inside of her as you came so hard you saw stars. Nesta held your head, Cassian wrapping his arms tight around your waist to crash you against him. Your ears were ringing but you could hear both of them whispering their praises in your ear. A few harsh thrusts from Cassian had him panting your name as he spilled into you. A loud keen flowing from your lips as he fucked you both through it. You're both panting, heads resting against each other when you remember you still had two fingers buried in Nesta.

You pull off of Cassian, feeling his cum drip down your thigh as he slips out of you.

“Lay down for me Nes.” You say as you pull your hand away from her cunt. She gives you a sleepy smile and does just that. You make a big show of slipping your fingers into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of her. You’re rewarded with her sharp inhale. You smile down at her and start trailing kisses down her chest. Lower, delivering a soft nip to her stomach, her hip, the inside of her thigh. She tilts her hips up to meet your mouth and you feel Cassian pin her hips to the bed. You look up at the both of them as you lower your mouth to Nesta’s center.

She moans loudly as you lick a soft stripe between her folds. Her hands are instantly tangling in your hair. You circle her clit with your tongue, once, twice then you tap Cassian’s wrist once. Signaling him to let her go. That’s all it takes for her to start bucking against your face. Using that hand in your hair to push you closer into her.

You can sense her growing frustration and sneak your hand up, teasing those same fingers inside of her again. Her back arches off the bed and she rides your face. Pushing your fingers deeper inside of her. You curl your fingers, searching for that rougher patch and almost smile when she curses loudly. Her moans quickly raise in pitch. Swears mingling with a garbled version of your name. Her legs try to clamp around your head but Cassian keeps a hand on her knee to stop her. Her moans turn into small mewls as her legs start to shake. You flick your eyes up and lock them with hers. That’s all it takes for her to fall apart on your tongue. Hips still bucking against your face as she rides out her high. You don’t stop your fingers until she’s pushing you away lightly. You drink up every drop off her arousal, leaving her glistening with a mix of it and your spit. You smile widely up at her as she pants, chest heaving, staring up at the ceiling. Her cheeks are tinged pink and she looks so pretty that you want to kiss her. So you do. A much softer kiss than the one you shared earlier.

When you pull away and turn your face to your mate, you see him hardening against his thigh again.

“Round two?” You turn back to Nesta, biting your lip. She quickly nods before Cassian is attaching his lips to yours. The groan that you pull from him lets you know just how long this night will be.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #acosf #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #nesta x cassian #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian #cassian x reader #nesta x reader #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #nesta smut #cassian smut #lord of bloodshed #lady death

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rebelliousstories · 1 year ago

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Out and About

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Child!Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @that-teen2003

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 858

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

A vault suit sticks out like a sore thumb in the desert of the Wasteland. It was so bright, and blue, and very impractical for the harsh reality of the terrain. That is why when he saw it, Cooper’s interest was peaked. That and the cowboy hat the person sported much like his own. Because it was not even a fully grown human wearing the offending garment; it was a child.

The Ghoul looked around as the small being was wandering the rough terrain with cautious eyes. Surely this child was not alone. But it just kept exploring as if it had done it its entire life. He kept a safe distance as he followed the child, just hoping that this belonged to someone nearby. But no one ever came. No mom, no dad, no authority of any kind came to collect this child.

It was currently climbing inside of an old house when Cooper noticed how fast the sun was setting. There would be horrible things coming for that child in the dark of the night. He heard a crash, and immediately drew his gun before running inside the decrepit house. What he saw shocked him. There this little child was, nursing a small fire with a can of cram in its hands that it was eating.

In the firelight, Howard noticed that this small child was a girl, probably no older than six. It reminded him of his little Janey that remained as vivid as ever in his memory two hundred years later. Without consciousness, he began to move closer by did not see the empty can that was right in front of him. He accidentally kicked the object, sending it flying and clanging about the home which startled the child. She let out a yelp, and held her food closer to her chest as she stared at the new person with fear in her eyes. Cooper held out a hand to calm her down, and placed his gun back on his hip. She moved closer to see who the new man was.

“Whoa.” She breathed out and nearly dropped her food. There was no fear left in her eyes after comprehending The Ghoul before her. Suddenly, she was up on her feet and ran straight to the man who was utterly confused. Even with him crouched, she only came up to his chest. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around him.

“It’s you! It’s you,” came her exclamation. Her voice trailed off as she settled but Cooper was stiff as a board. Pulling the child away, he looked at her closer. She was thin and sunburnt from surviving the Wasteland but her teeth looked good still.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, little one?” Cooper’s hairless brow furrowed as he knelt down to be on her level.

“You’re Cooper Howard. You’re da sheriff from T.V.” Her toothy grin showed. There were a couple missing, but she did not seem to care. Taking off her hat, she passed it to the man with all the innocence only a child cold have.

“Can you sign dis, please?”

That one ask broke him inside. He felt his heart shattering. It had been so long since someone had asked him to do that; he had completely forgotten the feeling. This little child had thawed his blackened heart in a matter of seconds.

“Where you from darlin’? Why you out here all by yourself lonesome and not with your momma?” Cooper chose to avoid her question, knowing that he did not have any instrument to sign the hat. The child, whose name was still a mystery, looked down at her feet that were kicking around sand before she answered.

“My mommy was behind me, den she wasn’t. She told me to run, so I did cause Mommy said I have to listen to her widout question here. I don’t know where she is.” Again, The Ghoul felt his heart break. Chances were, that woman was long dead and chose to spare her child the same fate. It seemed to have worked, but the could not have been out of the vaults long.

“Well, little one. What’s your name? Seein’ as you know mine,” said Cooper. He tried to smile kindly and not scare off the child, although she seems to not be the slightest bit afraid. She supplied her name, and took a much needed bite of food.

“Can I stay with you? It’s scary up here alone.” Even without those puppy eyes she was giving, Cooper already knew his answer. He nodded and walked over to the fire once more. Sitting with his back to the wall, Howard added some more tinder to the fire and was shoved slightly. The girl had moved his arm so that she was curled up against his side, with her head on his chest. Her can of food was empty and discarded as she drifted off to sleep.

Muscle memory kicked in. Cooper checked her breathing, and looked around for any potential threats lurking. With his gun at the ready, he slipped into a light sleep with a little girl on his chest once more.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader

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lettersfromharley · 3 months ago

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Almost, Maybe [Part 3]

902 words Summary: Fem!reader x teen!Schlatt. You’ve had a crush on Jay since you were twelve, unsure if he feels the same. Inspired by The Summer I Turned Pretty. A/N: Last part. Part 1 - Part 2

Divider: dialilimoon

At breakfast the next morning, all you can think of is Jay.

You feel like you’re stuck. The tension between you and Jay has been building up all summer and it’s getting unbearable. Every longing glance, every lingering touch leaves you wanting more.

And last night, Jay had said it. He admitted it. And then Drew had to come along and ruin it.

“So, what happened between you and Jay last night?” Robin asks as you sit down on your bed after breakfast.

“Nothing,” you mutter.

She snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Wait, did something actually happen?” Maggie asks, sitting on her bed.

“Well, he - we - confessed our feelings for each other,” you say.

“And?” Robin asks.

“That’s it.”

“You didn’t kiss?” Maggie asks.

“No,” you sigh, laying back on your bed. “Drew interrupted us before anything could happen and then I kind of… ran away.”

“You ran away?” Robin asks. “No wonder he was acting so weird at breakfast.”

“You have to go talk to him,” Maggie says.

“Yeah I will,” you say. “Eventually.”

Later that day Gabe and Drew suggest a boat ride.

So, you put on a swimsuit, grab a towel, and make your way to the dock.

Jay is already there, wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks, his hair messy from he wind. Your stomach flips.

The boat ride starts normal - Maggie and Robin fighting over music, Gabe driving the boat too fast, and Drew leaning back in his seat with his sunglasses on looking unbothered.

Then, the boat stalls.

“Shit,” Gabe mutters, fiddling with the motor. “We might be here for a bit.”

“Well,” Robin says, stretching, “guess we’ll have to swim to pass the time.”

One by one, everyone jumps into the lake - except you, Drew, and Jay.

You and Jay are sitting on opposite ends of the boat, avoiding each other.

It’s ridiculous. You know it. And apparently, so does Drew.

Because suddenly, he stands, stretches, and says, “Hey, Y/N, why don’t you and Jay go check the storage compartment for extra towels?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

He smirks. You immediately don’t trust him.

“I don’t know. Just in case we’re stranded out here for a while.”

Jay exhales sharply but stands. “Fine,” he mutters.

You follow him below deck, where the small enclosed storage area is dimly lit.

Jay kneels, checking the compartment. You stand awkwardly beside him, arms crossed.

The silence is excruciating.

Finally, he sighs. “So, are we gonna talk about it?”

Your throat tightens. “About what?”

Jay gives you a look. “Really?”

You shift on your feet. “I mean… what’s there to say?”

Jay lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that I told you I liked you and then you just—ran off.”

You flinch. “I didn’t run off.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I did,” you admit. “But Drew totally ruined the moment.”

Jay sighs, leaning against the wall. “Yeah. He did.”

There’s a pause. Then, he looks at you - really looks at you. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Your heart pounds. You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, the boat suddenly lurches.

You stumble forward. Jay catches you. His hands land on your waist. Your palms press against his chest.

Neither of you move. Your breath is shaky. His fingers tighten slightly. Everything feels too much. Too close.

And then - he leans in.

Your eyes flutter closed. His nose brushes yours. Your heart is beating so loud you’re sure he can hear it -

“We fixed the boat!” Robin’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

You jump apart. Jay curses under his breath, running a hand over his face.

“Right,” you say quickly, stepping back. “Let’s - uh, let’s go.”

You don’t miss the way Jay clenches his jaw, looking frustrated as hell. You don’t blame him.

Later that night, you go out to the dock to clear your had. It had been a crazy day and you needed a moment alone.

You stand at the edge with your hands in your pocket.

After a quiet moment or two, you hear the dock creak behind you. You turn around to see Jay.

He takes a deep breath and steps beside you. “Hey.”

You look over at him and smile. “Hey.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

So you say it.

“I didn’t run because I don’t like you,” you admit, voice soft. “I ran because I do.”

Jay turns to face you.

Your pulse races, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I was scared,” you continue. “Because I like you so much, and I didn’t want to ruin—”

Jay cuts you off.

By kissing you.

It’s not hesitant this time. It’s urgent, desperate—like he’s making up for all the moments you almost had.

You grip his sweater, his hands find your waist.

You melt into him, the taste of summer and longing being all you ever wanted.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t care if summer’s ending in a few weeks,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want this to.”

You swallow hard. “Me neither.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You kiss him again, because you can.

Because this is yours now.

Maybe this summer was always meant to change everything.

Previous Part

#fan fiction #jschlatt x reader #fluff #light angst #harley writes

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cryingpariah · 1 month ago

Note

Usopp: *sigh* Oh Dad, what would you say if you could see me now?

Franky: What’s that?

Usopp: It’s the only postcard my Father ever sent me and my mom. Check it out! 😃

*Usopp hands Franky the postcard*

Franky: Usopp…this is a picture of your dad mostly naked wearing a black speedo with the caption saying “Wish you were here Banchi” and pointing to his crotch.

Usopp: Yeah! He’s missed his wife and son and wished they were with him.

Franky: *flipping the picture over and around* There’s no mention of you in this “Postcard”?

Usopp: Well duh, He probably didn’t even know I was born yet.

Franky: Usopp…why is the speedo smudging on my hand?

Usopp: Oh because I drew it on there, too bad the plastic doesn’t keep the ink too well.

Franky: Usopp…how come there aren’t more of these letters?

Usopp: I don’t know, maybe Dad just couldn’t write? After all he is a very Infamous pirate and the mail is checked over a lot by government officials.

*Flashback*

Banchina: “I want to hold you tight and make you feel right”…Jerk *she tosses the photo in the fire*

Young Usopp: Hey Mom! What are you doing?

Banchina: Just tossing some kindling onto the fire *cough cough* you know how sick Mommy gets when she’s cold.

Young Usopp: I’ll go get some sticks!

He was different before. It was odd to think with how much animosity she carries for him now but Bachina could definitely say she did once love a man named Yassop.

They had grown up together, so close their house were right next to one another. They spent hours scrapping their knees on hills and playing catch and release with bugs. He had been her only friend in a human sea of people that looked down her family of poor fishermen. Yet there he’d come, again and again, shakily asking her father if she could come out once again.

The older they got, the more their feelings of friendship became something deceptively sweet: First Love. Bachina remembered fondly the nights they spent practically halfway out their respective windows talking through tin cans and giggling up a storm.

2 years of dating turned into probably the worst marriage proposal ever received in recorded history (shooting at dry grass to light up a heart and a ‘WILL YOU MARRY ME BACHI?’ whilst having a picnic on that same dry grass isn’t exactly any girl’s dream after all) but received and accepted it was.

Life was chaotic but blissfully until a gut feeling told her to check. She was pregnant! Bachina couldn’t be more excited! She had always dreamed of the pitter patter of small feet in their home! She couldn’t even think of a clever or romantic to tell her husband and burst out with it the second he walked through the door.

And she saw it. Fear and hesitation. Then as her pregnancy went on came the talks of destiny, travel and freedom. Wasn’t life more than one small island in the East Blue? Didn’t she want more than this little town? Live in the fast lane for a bit?

No, no she really didn’t. And if he felt that way, why marry her in the first place? Her love waxed and waned as the months passed on and his passive-aggression kept up. Anytime she tried to initiate a conversation about it he backed down and claimed he was just speaking out loud. She didn’t believe him.

One day though, he ran into the house smiling like he used to and for a single treacherous moment, Bachina's heart skipped a beat. Then he started speaking about a man with the reddest hair he’d ever seen and the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to explore the seas, to be somebody! He begged for her to understand.

She understood perfectly. She (even at 6 months pregnant, not that he was keeping track) helped him pack his suitcases with everything he had ever bought or touched or breathed on. She didn’t need it or him. Her and her baby would be just fine. With a kiss on a cheek and a promise to write, he left that night.

2.5 months later, her baby arrived early and perfect. She wept as she stared into his own weeping eyes and held him close. She glanced at the empty seat next to her, where the father should be, and smiled sadly. Perhaps it was cruel to rob a child of a parent but she hadn’t made that choice.

Her choice would be her family, every single time.

#Yassop is the OP equivalent to Martin Mertens from Adventure Time in this essay I will #making up the lore because Oda won’t >:(#not only is this a yassop slander account this is a Bachina appreciation account!! that’s my queen!!#one piece #usopp #franky #op bachina #yassop #yassop slander

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crazycurly-77 · 1 year ago

Text

Like an old married couple - Chapter 11

Arriving at the helicopter you immediately began the pre-flight check. In the middle of it you started coughing trying to breathe and took your emergency spray.

Ducky was instantly by your side “it's okay, just try to breathe as normal as possible. Do you need a Cortisone injection?”

“No. At least not yet” you smiled and tried to stay calm. “Okay” answered Ducky concerned and not really convinced. “You know…you are as stubborn as Gibbs and I don't know if we will make it out of this alive, but I'm lucky that you will be the one flying” he said smiling reassuringly at you.

Then he turned to take a closer look to the helicopter and mused “I know this one. Think I have seen it somewhere before.”

You grinned “right, but you have seen the wonder helicopter on the screen in an 80's series” you winked. “This one here is a Bell-222, which has some nice and helpful modifications concerning weapons for example. I always thought the helicopter in the series as cool as f… and so this one here was painted in these colors black and white. I named him my “little sheep”, because this model usually isn't armed. But no, it can't do all the things that the one in the series could.”

In the meantime you finished the check and told Ducky to get in. You put your headphones on, took a breath as deep as possible and started the engine. As always it shook when it came roaring to life and when the rotor reached the needed pace for the lift-off you asked Ducky “ready?” and without any hesitation he answered “ready.”

“Okay, then let's go and get our people back.” With that you pulled the control stick and the helicopter was airborne.

There is nothing like flying. Every time the lift-off felt like breaking free from all the stress and constraints. When flying through the air you simply felt free, free as a bird.

On this day however you couldn't enjoy the flight, because your family was in high danger and needed help as soon as possible and it became harder and harder to breathe. You only hoped that you didn't passed out while flying.

But luckily the flight to the location of the team where smooth and without incidents except your increasing coughs. The condition of your lungs worsened minute for minute and they slowly began to rattle and to pipe, which was not a good sign at all. But you still had to concentrate and a job to do. So you continued to accelerate, because time was running out fast - for your team and for you.

Eventually you arrived at the location of the fight and it didn't looked good at all. The team was clearly outnumbered and outgunned by far. How did they managed to get into this mess?? You didn't know and it wasn't important. Jenny was right. They urgently needed help and wouldn't make it out alive on their own.

They had entrenched themselves behind their cars and were in the middle of a crossfire from every side. There was no way to get out of there. If the gunfight had gone on for a while they will be shortly out of ammunition which would be their death sentence for sure.

So you put your helicopter in position and brought the guns out. With that you entered the fight and fired at the assailants. Apparently they were surprised at your appearance and weaponry, but after they had summoned themselves they fired back at you.

You felt that time was running out and tried to concentrate very hard. Your heart started racing with adrenaline because of the impending battle, but you had to stay calm to be concentrated as much as you could be and not to boost the coming asthma attack further. You HAD to get them out of there. So you drew the fire to yourself and fired not only your guns, but your rockets, too. The attackers fired back heavily and hit the helicopter, but they didn't shot any important parts.

While you provided cover to the team, they managed to run to you and get into the chopper. As soon as they were in Gibbs put the headphones on and told you that everyone is on board and you can start and get your asses out of there. By hearing that and his voice you were extremely relieved and pulled the power stick to get away immediately.

Over the headphones you heared Ducky who asked if anybody is injured, but thankfully everyone shook their head “no”.

You were very grateful that you could get them all out alive. The last thing you had to do was bring them home safely. When the adrenaline became lesser Gibbs and the others observed that you were pretty pale and nearly constantly coughing and that it became worse and worse. You said that it's nothing, but you asked Ducky for a Cortisone injection and an oxygen mask.

In that moment everyone noticed that Ducky and you were very tense, but they knew not to ask any questions for now.

Anyway you had to fight a hard battle against the imminent danger of suffocation. If you loose the fight against unconsciousness you will all die and this you can't bear. So you fought the hardest you could, but the black points of unconsciousness in your sight were getting more and more. You became dizzy and dazed and all you knew was that you had to land as soon as possible.

To your great relieve the landing platform came in sight a few minutes later. You landet as smooth as possible under these circumstances. Nobody moved. Quietly and at the end of your strength you asked Ducky “did we make it?” “Yeah, we landed and we are all safe. You did it” came his soft answer.

“That's good” were your last words with a tired smile as you finally fell unconscious.

(To be continued...)

--------------------------------------

Here you will find the other chapters of this story

Back to the overview of this story

Back to the main Masterlist

Back to the alternative Masterlist

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#jethro gibbs x reader #ncis #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 years ago

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 14 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When Spencer’s drinking gets out of control, he reaches out to a friend for help. He makes a series of decisions for the sake of his own mental health.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

A/N - I don’t know how finals work so I just made it up. Also questions detailed for Spencer’s therapy are taken from real life therapy questionnaires.

Warnings - arguing, drinking, drunk Spencer, one night stand, mentions of protective sex, swearing, slight alcohol abuse, AA meetings, mention of past drug addiction, therapists, talk of depression, Spencer gets angry at Taco, mentions of dog urine and faeces, therapy questionnaires, mentions of affairs and divorce, mentions of schizophrenia.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 14 - Forever Winter

He says he doesn't believe anything much he hears these days,

He says, "Why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?"

He spends most of his nights wishing it was how it used to be,

He spends most of his flights getting pulled down by gravity.

Professor Monroe did not return to work on Monday and so Spencer had to spend another week with you.

It was finals week which meant longer hours, more time having to be spent together. It made the long, awkward silences more uncomfortable, the withering looks more grating.

He tried to focus on the fact two days after he’d put in the offer on the house it had been accepted, and less than twelve hours after that he’d agreed an offer on his own home.

Between finals, the tension with you and getting the ball rolling with his house sale and purchase, Spencer was stretched extremely thin.

He still tried to give his all to his girls but his evenings were spent with papers and forms and all kinds of other legal nonsense that Maeve had taken care of last time.

Honestly, he was exhausted. And it didn’t help matters that every time he saw you his heart shattered a little more.

He thankfully made it through the last week of the semester with his sanity still just about in check. He was packing up his office for the summer when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he stood up straight as the door opened and you tentatively walked inside.

You clutched your purse close like it was your only lifeline.

“Was there anything else you needed before I head out?” You asked politely, but there was a hint of frustration in your voice.

“Uh no I don’t think so. Have a good summer I guess.” He replied, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You nodded curtly and turned back to the door but before you could leave Spencer spoke again.

“Do you want to maybe grab a coffee? I’d really like to just clear the air.”

Your back straightened as you slowly turned back to him.

“I, uh…I have plans.” You shrugged, rolling your lip between your teeth.

Your facial expression told Spencer all the things you weren’t saying.

“Oh,” he croaked. “You have a date?”

“Not a date…not really. I’m just having dinner with a guy I went to college with. S’not a big deal.” You continued gnawing on your lip.

“Wow, good to see you’ve bounced back so fast.” His lips drew into a tight line and he grabbed his satchel off the desk, swinging it over his shoulder and heading for the door,

“It’s not like that.” You huffed, holding your hands out to stop him as he went to pass you.

“Sure it’s not.” He rolled his eyes. “So while I’ve been missing you every second of every day you’ve been reconnecting with an old college “friend”. Super, just super.”

You grabbed him by the shoulders when he tried to pass you again and shoved him backwards a little.

“You don’t get to do this,” you spat. “You don’t get to be mad at me for moving on. We broke up because you’re in love with someone else, Spencer! What am I supposed to do? Pine over you? Make myself miserable and wallow because you didn’t love me the way I love you? You don’t have the right to be mad, Spencer.”

“I have the right to be whatever I want to be.” He bit back. “Clearly you didn’t love me as much as you claimed to if you can move on so fast. I was married for a long time, I’m allowed to have complicated feelings about that. But my feelings for my ex in no way diminished my feelings for you. There’s no rule book on love Y/N. Just because I still love my ex-wife doesn’t mean I don’t also love you. Have a good summer, and have a wonderful time with your college friend.”

He pushed past you and you let him go. He swung open the door so aggressively it bounced on its hinges and hit the wall. You stepped out into the corridor after him and couldn’t stop yourself yelling after him.

“Go to hell Doctor Reid!”

You saw him slow his pace briefly, as though he might turn back and reply but he didn’t. He forced himself to keep walking.

And once he was out of sight, your first tear escaped your eye.

***

The music thrummed through the speakers, vibrating down the walls, through the floorboards and up through the soles of his shoes.

It pulsed and pumped like a frantically beating heart, filling his veins with a nervous energy which manifested in his constantly jiggling left leg and fingers drumming against the table top.

His free hand which wasn’t tapping the table was grasped around his glass as he raised it to his lips and swallowed down the amber liquid.

He slammed the empty glass back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m getting another drink.” He yelled to be heard over the music and went to stand but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“I think you’ve had enough, Reid.” Emily replied just as loudly.

“Weren’t you quitting drinking anyway?” JJ asked him.

“I thought this was supposed to be fun. I’m not having fun.” He groaned.

After dropping the girls at Maeve’s he’d called JJ and asked if he could come over, not wanting to be alone.

She’d informed him it was girls night, she, Emily, Penelope and Tara were going out to a club on one of their rare Friday nights off.

The next thing she’d known, Spencer had invited himself along.

He was four scotch’s deep and it was already going to his head. All four women were incredibly worried about him.

“What if we dance? Dancing’s fun.” Penelope tried.

“I hate dancing.” Spencer shook his head. “I’m getting another drink.”

This time when he got up no one tried to stop him. The four women exchanged glances as he pushed his way through the crowds towards the bar.

“I’m worried about him.” JJ shook her head sadly.

“Me too.” Garcia agreed.

“He just needs to blow off some steam. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Tara shrugged, sipping her wine. “Not much of a ladies night.”

“Let’s go dance while he’s distracted.” Emily suggested and the others nodded in agreement.

Spencer didn’t see them go, too busy trying to get the bartender's attention. His head was spinning and he felt like he could taste the music, it was so loud.

But the more he drank, the less he thought about you and your date-not-a-date. The more scotch he consumed the less he pictured you rolling around in bed with some college friend you’d never mentioned before.

The more alcohol he indulged in, the less his heart felt like it was breaking.

He ordered his drink and took a large sip of it, relishing in the way the alcohol burned as it slid down his throat.

When he turned away from the bar there was a set of large brown eyes staring right at him.

The woman the eyes belonged to was tall and curvaceous, shoulder length blonde hair and a smile directed right at him.

She moved closer to him, her hips swaying as she walked. When she reached him, she placed her hands on his shoulders, moving her face close to his ear so she could be heard when she spoke.

“Hi,” she breathed against his ear. “I’m Lauren.”

“Spencer,” he replied, his free hand finding purchase on her hip.

“I saw you with that group of women, one of them your girlfriend?”

“Nope, no. Just friends. No girlfriend.” He swallowed, his hand gripping the glass shaking a little.

“That’s good to know.” She giggled, pulling away from his ear and looking down at his lips which were parted slightly.

He knew this was a terrible idea, so far past terrible in fact. But he also couldn’t help himself. Lauren was beautiful, seductive and clearly interested in him. And maybe she was just what he needed to take his mind off of things.

He raised his drink to his lips and downed it, placing the empty on the bar behind him. One hand still on her hip, his now free one cupped her cheek, brushing his fingertips against her skin.

“You got a problem with me kissing you?” He smiled at her.

“Not at all.” She smiled back before he was soon slamming their lips together.

The last thing Spencer remembered before the alcohol took over was grabbing her by the hand and leading her towards the door, the two of them fleeing together into the night.

***

By the fourth time Taco barked, Spencer forced his eyes open. The mangy dog was sitting on the floor next to his bed, glaring at his owner with his beady little eyes.

“Go away,” Spencer grumbled, his head immediately starting to throb. “You aren’t going to starve. Just need a little more sleep.”

He pulled the duvet over his head and ignored Taco when he barked twice more. He groaned into his pillow, his stomach turning and head pounding.

Taco barked again and Spencer half considered getting up just to kick the dog until he was silent. But the dog was the least of his concerns.

“Can you shut that thing up?” A female voice came from behind him and Spencer sat up and whipped around so fast the whole room spun.

Her blonde hair was tangled on the pillow and the sheet was slung around her waist, her bare chest on display.

“What the fuck?” He panted, lifting the sheet and looking down at his own naked body beneath it. “Oh fuck, did we? Shit!”

He lept out of bed and the woman grumbled while he tried to locate his boxers.

“Why are you being so loud?” She whined.

He found his underwear and pulled them on before turning back to her.

“You need to leave, now.” He told her, her eyes fluttering open.

“Well that’s rude.” She pulled the sheet over her body.

“This shouldn’t have happened. We shouldn’t have…fuck!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Did we use protection?”

Lauren sat up against the pillows, eyes blurry and hair messy.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was as drunk as you were.”

“Are you on the pill?” He glared at her.

“Yes.” She huffed,

“But you don’t know if we used a condom? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m such a fucking idiot.” He started pacing, hunting the room for a used condom or a ripped packet.

“What is your problem?” She groaned, rubbing her eyes and causing her mascara to flake.

“My problem? My problem!” He raised his voice even though it hurt his head to do so. “My problem is I have two kids that were born from a combination of too much alcohol and forgotten condoms. Fuck, how could I be so stupid?”

“You have kids?” She frowned.

“Yes! Why do you think I live in this giant suburban hell hole?” He continued to search the room.

Lauren glanced around the room, she hadn’t noticed last night how feminine his bedroom was.

“Jesus Christ, you didn’t tell me you were married!” She spat, swinging her legs out of the bed.

“I’m not married. I said I have kids.” He found the trash can in the corner and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the used condom sitting on top. “Oh thank fuck.”

“You’re telling me a woman doesn’t live here?” She scoffed, locating her clothes and starting to dress.

“A woman used to live here, I haven’t decorated. I’m moving out…it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You need to leave.”

“Don’t worry I’m going.” Lauren dressed as quickly as she could. “I did not sign up for this.”

She was soon throwing her heels back on and found her purse tossed on the dressing table which she grabbed before leaving the room. Spencer followed her, still wearing only his underwear and motioned her downstairs towards the front door.

“I, uh, I don’t mean to be an asshole,” he swallowed as he unlocked the door. “I really wasn’t in the right frame of mind last night. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Lauren clucked as the door opened. “It is what it is.”

She weaved past him and out of the door, heading down the front steps as the gate opened and someone started up the path. Spencer closed his eyes and leant back against the door jamb.

He didn’t watch as you encountered the scantily dressed blonde halfway down the path. He refused to look as you gave her a once over and as Lauren rolled her eyes.

“I thought you said a woman didn’t live here?” Lauren called back to him.

Spencer’s eyes shot open and he looked guiltily between you and her.

“It’s not…I know this looks bad but it’s not…” He groaned, wanting the world to swallow him whole.

“Wear a ring, asshole!” Lauren spat and before he could explain, she was strutting away on her too high heels.

You glared at him from the path, not wanting to come any closer as the rage bubbling through your veins might cause you to physically hurt him.

“Hi,” he shrugged meekly. “I really wish you’d shown up like, two minutes later.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You called me sixteen times last night, left me five voicemails telling me how much you missed me and now I show up here and see some bimbo leaving your house? Jesus Christ, Spencer, seriously?”

“I…sixteen times?” He frowned, he didn’t remember calling you once let alone sixteen times.

“Yes,” You nodded, taking a few tentative steps closer. “I even left dinner earlier, I walked out on a nice evening with an uncomplicated, charming man. And I actually came here today because I thought, maybe, maybe we could work on things. And then I see her leaving and it certainly doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened between the two of you.”

He followed your gaze when you gestured up and down his nearly naked frame. He grimaced, wrapping his arms around his torso as his cheeks flushed.

“I was…drunk. Really drunk and I made a really bad judgement call. But in my defence, I was upset, ok? I was sad and so I drank and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your college friend and I figured a one night stand might take my mind off of things.” He shrugged with a deep sigh. “It didn’t mean anything, I swear.”

“I don’t care, Spencer.” You shook your head. “I’m glad I saw her actually, because now I know it was a huge mistake coming here. We were never going to be able to work things out. Your one night stand saved me from more heartbreak.”

“Just come inside, let's talk.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking a few steps backwards.

“Y/N, please?” He begged, stepping out of his house.

“No, no. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I have to go.” You continued walking backwards while Spencer carried on towards you.

You bumped into the gate and quickly turned to open it.

“Y/N, wait, please!” He hurried towards you, but you were already back on the street, running towards your car. “Y/N! Wait….please? Fuck!”

He yelled, running his fingers through his hair. He glanced across the street where his neighbour who had been tending to her yard was staring at him. Of course she was, he was the crazy man screaming after a woman wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Morning Mrs Lopez.” He offered a tight lipped smile and meek wave before turning away from her and retreating back inside.

Once the door was closed he fell back against it, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Just when things seemed to be as bad as they could get, he kept making them worse. He couldn’t seem to do anything right lately.

Drinking as much as he was certainly wasn’t helping matters. He thought he’d had it under control but maybe he was wrong.

He was falling apart at the seams. He needed to do something, needed to make a change before his anger and his sadness ripped his whole life apart. If he continued on this self-destructive path he could lose everything, his girls included.

And they deserved more from him.

It was time he took a good, long look in the mirror and made a change. It was time for Spencer Reid to start thinking about himself and make some drastic changes before his life wound up upside down.

No more drinking. He had to put a stop to that before it had a chance to escalate, he knew all too well the perils of addiction.

He dragged himself back upstairs and found his cell phone, pulling up his contacts and locating her number. He sat on the edge of the bed while it rang a few times, soon her breezy voice was carrying down the line.

“Reid, hi. Where did you go last night, we were worried about you?”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine.” He tried to placate her but then he sighed. “Actually that’s not true. Nothing is fine.”

“What’s wrong?” She quickly panicked down the line.

“I need your help.” He sniffed, his eyes welling with tears. “I hate to have to ask you this with your history with your ex, but I don’t know who else to ask. I can’t keep on like this, I really need to get sober. Would you…would you go to a meeting with me?”

There was a pause of silence while his words sunk in and he worried briefly she would shoot him down. But soon enough she was speaking.

“Of course I will, Reid. Of course I will.” Tara Lewis replied, that calming tone of hers wrapping him in a comforting blanket.

“Thank you Tara. Thank you so much.” He sniffed again, a few tears escaping.

“I’ll have a look online and find something nearby ok? I’ll text you the details.”

“Ok,” He nodded, closing his eyes. “Tara?”

“Yes Reid?”

“Please don’t tell anyone. They’ll only worry.”

Tara didn’t think it would help him to hear how worried they all were about him already. Instead she agreed and soon they were both hanging up the phone.

***

It had been over fifteen years since Spencer set foot in some kind of meeting. Back then, when he’d been going through his dilaudid addiction, he’d attended a few meetings at Beltway Clean Cops. This was his first time going to such a place with civilians.

But he’d been a civilian himself now for a long time, so he guessed it made sense.

He spent most of it sitting in the back with Tara, clutching her hand while others spoke. Towards the end she encouraged him to go up and speak.

Despite his awkwardness, public speaking had never phased him much. Not usually anyway. But standing up at that podium and having to talk in front of a room full of addicts was one of the most nerve wracking experiences of his life.

He made eye contact with Tara who gave him a soft smile and a nod of motivation.

“Uh, hi, I’m Spencer.” He began, not taking his eyes off of Tara.

“Hi Spencer.” The room spoke in unison.

“I, uh…I suppose I’m here because I have a problem. I don’t want to use the word addiction because I don’t think I’m at that stage yet but it’s certainly heading that way.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Years ago I had a problem with dilaudid, I haven’t used in over fifteen years. I don’t know that I can say I was sober though, because I still drank from time to time.

Over the last year that drinking has gotten heavier. For a long time I didn’t think of alcohol the same as I did dilaudid, it seemed so harmless in comparison. But I think I’ve started replacing one vice with another and if I don’t stop drinking entirely it is going to get to a point where I can’t stop.

I have two kids, two little girls and I am their primary caregiver. Lily is seven and Daisy is fourteen and old enough to know that I am struggling. Their mom and I were married for thirteen years before she dropped a bombshell that she’d been having an affair for three years. I guess I’ve not been the same since. On the weekends I don’t have my girls, I tend to drink to numb the pain.

I know I need to make a change, even if only for my daughter’s. So I came here in the hopes of quitting drinking before it’s too late for me.”

He took a deep breath once he was finished. He hadn’t planned to say all of that but he found when he started talking he couldn’t stop.

Tara was smiling at him with pride and she started to clap which caused the rest of the room to join in.

Spencer felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment and he averted his gaze down to the podium. He hurried away while the applause continued and kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way back to his seat.

As soon as he sat down, Tara took hold of his hand and he glanced at her. She was smiling brightly at him and if he wasn’t mistaken, he swore she had tears in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you.” She mouthed at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He smiled in thanks and turned back to face the front as another speaker took to the podium.

Truth be told, he was proud of himself too.

***

Tara took him for lunch after the meeting and he regaled her with all the sorry details of what happened after he left the bar last night, including you showing up at his house. She listened patiently, giving input where necessary and never once judging him.

After they ate, they went for a walk in the park for a while until it got a little too hot and they found a bench in the shade of a large tree.

“A while ago you mentioned to me about seeing a therapist.” He spoke without looking at her. “I think it’s probably a good idea.”

“I have some friends in the field, I can give you some numbers.” She watched the side of his face.

“Yes please, that would be helpful.” He played with his hands in his lap, slowly turning his head to look at Tara. “You know, Daisy asked me if I was depressed and I honestly think that’s the first time I’d ever really thought about it before. That’s what this is right? Depression.”

“Most likely.” She nodded slowly. “But I think with the right combination of therapy and medication you’ll be just fine, Spencer.”

“You think it gets better?” He asked, rolling his lip between his teeth somewhat violently.

“I know it will get better.” She took hold of his hand once more and held it tightly. “You’ve had a rough time, life has not been kind to you. But you deserve to be happy again and you will be.”

“Thank you.” He sniffed.

“For what?”

“For today, for everything really. If it weren’t for you and the team and my girls, I would have crumbled a long time ago.”

“If you ever do crumble,” Tara squeezed his hand. “You can be assured we will all be there to help you pick up the pieces. That’s what family is for.”

A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. Tara continued to hold his hand while they sat in silence, watching the world pass them by from the park bench.

When they parted ways, she gave him some numbers of therapists and he promised to call her if he felt the need to drink again. He had to admit he felt a little lighter by the time he returned home that evening.

But then he walked in his door.

In the state he’d been in that morning he had forgotten that leaving his shit for brain’s dog alone all day would be a terrible idea. He’d also forgotten to feed the mangy thing. And boy had Taco protested.

His couch was almost entirely ripped to shreds, the leather fabric clawed and scratched apart. The one remaining couch cushion Taco hadn’t already destroyed was now ruined, in a pile of fluff on the floor.

He’d knocked over the coat rack and torn apart Spencer’s favourite navy blue pea coat. The coat rack had clearly knocked into the wall and left a dent behind, one more mark he would have to fix before he moved.

On top of that there was a yellow urine stain in the middle of the living room and as Spencer moved further into the house he found Taco had also defecated at the bottom of the stairs.

He ignored the mess and the dog, because if he didn’t he might actually strangle the mutt, and headed through to the kitchen. He opened the back door and Taco sprinted into the yard.

He put food down for the moronic creature, wanting nothing more than to open the back gate and let the dog run free, he could tell the girls he accidentally got out. He cleaned up the pile of faeces in the hall and scrubbed the carpet of urine.

He left the back door open while he trudged upstairs and was met with yet more destruction caused by the dog.

Thankfully Daisy and Lily’s bedroom doors had been left shut but he’d failed to do the same with his own. One of his pillows had met the same fate as the couch cushion. He’d managed somehow to get the book off of Spencer’s nightstand and torn that to shreds, ripped pages littering his bed.

He’d turned the trash can upside down and the used condom was laying in the middle of the room.

“Gross, so gross.” Spencer groaned, picking up the garbage, condom included and throwing it back in the trash. “I swear to god I am going to put you down myself, Taco.”

In his ensuite, Taco had pulled his towel off of the back of the door and urinated on it.

He snatched it up and marched downstairs where he tossed the soiled towel into the washing machine. Taco was back inside, happily eating his kibble without a care in the world.

“Something needs to change.” He spat at the dog even though he couldn’t understand him. “I am not putting up with this.”

Taco, not surprisingly, didn’t reply, instead carried on eating.

Spencer closed the back door and slumped through to his living room, falling down on his trashed couch.

He pulled out his cell phone and typed a quick text message.

📲 To: Luke Alvez - Hey man, I don’t suppose you know any good dog trainers? This fucking creature is going to be the death of me.

He hit send, before pulling out the list of names Tara had given him earlier. She’d put a little star next to one name in particular who she thought would be a good fit for Spencer.

Before he could change his mind, he dialled the number.

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Doctor Maria Sanchez, Hannah speaking, how may I help?” A chipper female voice came down the line.

“Uh, hi. A friend of mine gave me Doctor Sanchez’s number. I’d like to make an appointment I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Ok, sure. You’d need to fill out a questionnaire but if you give me an email address I can get that sent over to you. You can just email it right back and Doctor Sanchez will review it and be in touch.”

Spencer exhaled before reeling off his email address. A few minutes later he was hanging up. A reply from Luke awaited him.

📱 Do I know any good dog trainers? You offend me, Reid. Who do you think trained Roxy? I’d be happy to help corral your pup. Just been called in on a case but I’ll hit you up when I’m back.

He put his phone down and exhaled deeply. He was starting to make strides. He was moving house, he’d gone to his first meeting, he was looking into a therapist and sorting out his nightmare dog.

The next thing on the agenda was to buy a new couch.

***

The following morning he opened his computer in his office and faced a four page pre-therapy questionnaire.

It started out simple enough, his name, date of birth occupation, current employer and his home address. Relatively straight forward stuff. The first set of questions were about his parents, what his childhood was like and a section to detail any siblings.

It wasn’t easy to fill out given his family history, but he managed it. It was the next section in which he started having issues.

If married, please give the name and age of your spouse and the date of your marriage. If you have been married before, please write the names of your former spouses(s) and the date(s) of that (those) marriage(s).

Briefly describe your marital relationship(s).

God-fucking-damnit.

He tried not to let himself think about what he was writing, just let his fingers glide across the keyboard without giving it too much thought. It was easy enough to type out her name and age and the date of their marriage. It was the second question he had difficulty with.

He swallowed thickly as he started to type in the allocated box.

I became separated from my wife over a year ago when she informed me she had been having a three year long affair. We later got divorced. Before her affair we had a good marriage, for the most part. I wasn’t always home a lot due to my job but we were happy I think. I guess that’s not true though because if that were true then she wouldn’t have cheated on me. We have not remained on good terms.

He started typing about his girls but then his eyes glanced at the next question and realised that was better saved, so he deleted that part and moved onto the next box.

Please give the names and ages of all children and stepchildren, whether or not they are living at home.

Daisy Reid, fourteen / Lily Reid, seven. They live at home with me and stay with their mother every other weekend.

He stopped typing to take a sip of coffee while he glanced at the next question.

Do you or anyone in your family have a history of depression or other mental illness? Were any ever hospitalised for this?

He closed his eyes and let out a staggered breath. He’d thought the actual therapy would be the hard part, this was supposed to be a walk in the park in comparison. He had another sip of coffee and began to type again.

My mother suffers from schizophrenia and I made the decision to institutionalise her when I was eighteen.

Short and simple. He didn’t want to dive too much into this. But then the next question almost forced him to shut the computer down entirely and retreat back to bed.

Have you or any member of your family ever had a problem of misusing alcohol or drugs? Who and for how long? Is there a current problem?

He let out another breath, shaking his head at the computer as if it was somehow the device's fault.

I had a problem with dilaudid between 2006 and 2007. I have been clean since but have recently realised I use alcohol as a coping mechanism. I am going to meetings and trying to get sober.

The following few questions were about his educational history and his physical health which were much easier to answer. The next section was about his concerns about therapy and what he hoped to achieve from it. All fairly straightforward.

The last section was a list of fifteen statements in which he was supposed to mark on a scale of 0 to 3 how often those problems had affected him in the last week, zero being none at all and three being severe. He took a breath and just tried to hurry through them.

Feeling lonely 3

Low motivation to get things done 2

Trouble concentrating 3

Fatigue 3

Worry 3

Trouble falling asleep 3

Awaking during the night with problems returning to sleep 3

Tension in shoulders, neck or chest 3

Irritability 3

Thoughts of ending your own life 0

Feeling guilty 3

Feeling hopeless 3

Feeling worthless 3

Sexual concerns 0

Body discomfort 0

At the very least he hadn’t answered three to all of them, he thought, grimacing at his answers. Before he could talk himself out of it he replied to the email and attached the form, hitting send and not letting himself dwell on the answers he’d given.

He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee, knowing he needed to go out and buy a replacement couch before he picked the kids up tomorrow. He didn’t enjoy the idea of them seeing the destruction their stupid dog had caused.

It took him almost an hour of sitting at his desk, staring at the wall until he finally got his legs to cooperate and he stood up. Before he left the house he shut Taco in the kitchen, hoping to contain the mutt's cataclysmic behaviour.

And then he drove out to the district to a furniture store and reluctantly picked out a new couch, paying extra for the privilege of having it delivered the same day and for having them haul his old one off, before driving back home and waiting for them to show.

His therapy application played on his mind all day, that and the fact he really wanted a drink. He didn’t call Tara, not wanting to bother her while they were on a case and just hoping he could stave off his cravings until it was time to pick up Daisy and Lily.

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years ago

Text

Title: Message My Heart {One Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Famous Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, Some Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS,

Words: 8.2k

Summary: You are a famous and jaded singer. You’ve closed yourself off from others and even experiences. However, one unexpected comment changes everything.

Note: Let's pretend we all can't recognize or man in .2 seconds from a super pixelated shot of his forehead alone. Let's pretend that we never followed this man a day in our lives. LOL

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~

You'd posted this on a whim, as a joke and nothing serious. It was a night you should have been kept away from your socials, a night of heavy drinking, illicit smoke passing your lips, and hours and hours of dancing until your legs were sore and the bottoms of your feet were numb. A night of laughs, tears, anger, and joy. A night all in the hopes of forgetting the loneliness of your existence.

Though you were never alone you always felt it. You were always surrounded by at least 10 people at any given time, always having someone snap your picture, scream your name, begging for an autograph, for you to smile, for you to pose this and that way, for a moment of your time, your voice, your heart, your life.

It was exhausting always being on display like you were 24/7 entertainment and not a person. Everyone believed you belonged to them and hence you had no right to privacy, no right to be human or left alone. Everything was always so intense and fast-paced, so sexualized and impersonal. You guessed it was the price to pay for the life you chose because of the vocal talent you possessed and oftentimes you believed you had no right to complain because you had chosen this, though you had no idea what this really was all those years ago.

You groaned, wrapped your fur blanket around your naked figure then took a heady sip of your mimosa. Then you scrolled through the comments underneath your post. You rolled past comment after comment of men giving you their sexual fantasies which ranged from mild to very depraved. You were beyond shocked that people would actually speak filth like this on social media for the world to see and not feel shame.

As you scrolled, you also noted how most of those sexual fantasies were deleted. That told you that your social media team was on it and doing the job they were paid handsomely for.

Your ringing phone drew your attention and without looking you knew it was your manager. You sighed then answered.

"Yeah."

"What were you thinking posting that? What did you think would happen?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't. The ways that statement could be taken."

"It's not like it was meant the way it was taken! Look I am not going to apologize for the depravity and lewdness of most of the male population. I will not take responsibility for that, nor do I deserve you calling me to belittle me about it."

With that, you ended the call. He was on thinner ice than he'd ever been before. You were ready to fire his ass before but now you were past ready. Your anger tried to overtake you but you recited the mantra you'd learned from your Balinese getaway where had a strong spiritual awakening that made you confront just how bad a shape you were in.

It took 7 repetitions but at the end of them, you felt more rooted in your strength. You continued scrolling rolling your eyes at comments that were weird or cringe then your finger hovered over the screen as a particular comment caught your eye.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Take you away from everyone who makes those beautiful eyes empty and sad so I can gently caress and love away the pain that shines through wrapped around the lyrics of every slow song you put out that your voice so hauntingly expresses to the world. I would just simply love you for all you are that you hide from the world and all you wish to be that you fear you can never be.

For a very long time, you sat there staring at the words in a complete daze. You sat there so long that you actually forgot to breathe. When your chest burned and your head got light, you gasped filling your lungs. You then read the comment again.

Holy shit, you thought.

Who was this person? So many things raced through your mind. Was this just some random person, some random response? Did they know you? How was everything he said so on point? They'd seen through your eyes. Heard the pain. Slowly you began hyperventilating but quickly you got yourself under control. Who was this?

You clicked their name but found their account on private. You contemplated messaging them but quickly decided against it. It was stupid to do.

So you went about your day fulfilling your obligations and doing everything you normally would. Smiled for the cameras, posed for pictures, signed endless autographs, chatted with fans, kept everything PC, shook hands, and gave the people what they so thought they were owed. Every bit of yourself.

However, as your day progressed and winded down you couldn't stop thinking about the comment, and the more you thought about it, the more your curiosity increased. So by the time you were on your way home for the night, you went back on social and sent a follow request before you chickened out, then closed the app.

Though you tried to forget it, you didn't. So as you ate dinner, watched TV, showered, did a little work then wrote some lyrics you had it in the back of your head. When you checked it you couldn't help but smile as you found your request had been approved. However not much was posted in the way of a face. There were plenty of animal pictures, landscapes, and abstract things but nothing to tell you who this person was.

So with nothing to quell your curiosity, you backed off of their page ready to close the app all together when a red '1' appeared indicating you'd received a message. It took all of 5 seconds for you to open it.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Didn't imagine this would be the end of my day when I started it.

You smiled. Hell neither did you.

You: Me neither.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You thought about your possible response. You couldn't just tell the truth...could you? After some minutes you bit the bullet.

You: Why did you comment that?

You watched the three dots appear and disappear 5 times as you anxiously waited for their reply. You imagined all the things they could say, all the ways you'd possibly misread the situation and made a wrong decision. Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, came a lengthy response.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I was just being honest and some more honesty would be that I've been following you for a long time and been a fan for about the same time and there is something about you. Something ethereal, something poetic and hypnotizing.

You: Ah. Another fan of my looks. Okay. I get it.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: This has nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with your aura. To be truthful I am convinced you look 1000 times better without the layers of makeup and lashes. It cheapens your beauty. The glow around you has changed over the years. It began beautiful and golden and has morphed into copper, then rust, now it is barely visible and just a shimmery black as if you are a former shell of who you were.

Talk about a stab in the gut. You read their words over and over and thought back to something the Dali said in Bali. It was something similar, something just as profound. A shiver rushed through you producing goosebumps along your flesh.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I posted that comment because I saw you and wanted you to know it. I wanted you to know that while the world wants something--everything from you I want nothing but to give something to you.

The tears in your eyes made your lids heavy. You fought the inevitable struggling to keep them at bay.

You: And what's that?

The reply was lightning quick as if he knew you'd ask.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Safety and love.

That was it. That was all it took for your bottom lid to give up and release the floodgates. Your tears cascaded down your cheeks and they didn't stop for long minutes that turned into hours until you'd cried yourself to sleep.

~~~~~

-12 Weeks Later-

A stranger's kind words to a random drunken post ended up being a gift from the universe. Every time you talked which was every day now he put you at ease. It was like having the worst case of poison ivy that nothing soothed but that one salve you decided to try on a whim. He was that salve and every time you spoke his effect was one that mystified you.

Your moods improved, intrusive thoughts decreased, and depression staved off. Hell, even your outlook had changed. Once everything was bleak. You saw the worst in everyone and everything. You were Ms. Pessimistic always with the defensive wall because you expected everyone you encountered to be trash. Now, that outlook had changed and because of the chance you were giving him and him not fumbling it was slowly changing your mind about people.

When you asked him what his motives were, he simply said to be your friend because you looked like you needed one of those more than someone to tell you how beautiful you are or break your back. That answer floored you. Never had you had a man who wanted to be your friend as opposed to something else--something more.

So friends was what you became. He became one of your biggest supporters always cheerleading you on through social media. He was the ever-present positivity your negative mind craved. His light and vibe were contagious and soon they'd infiltrated your whole outlook. He even got you into jogging, which you hated. Every morning at the ass crack of dawn you were jogging together sending snapshots of the view you were zipping by, short text messages throughout, and even voice messages.

You often decompressed together either watching a movie, playing against one another on gaming platforms, or just doing the same activities in your own towns. Through it all, you still didn't know what he looked like still didn't know who he really was and though you were curious, you also were afraid to rock the boat.

When your friends found out about him they often badgered you into figuring out who he was. They even offered to do a deep dive investigation on social to figure it out. You knew they could crack the case in a few hours but again the fear told you not to.

"What are you afraid of?"

It was a good question that one of your best friends, Alaana, asked as you sat with both of them in your theater room watching the latest release on Netflix. Twiddling your fingers, you avoided her eyes.

"Do you think he's a perv?"

Your other friend, Takia, gasped as she shot upright. "That he's a catfish?"

"Who is he catfishing as? She doesn't even know who he is let alone if he looks like who he says he is," Alaana pointed out.

"So what is it? Afraid he's butt ugly?"

The two cackled together as if they were the best stand-up comedians alive while you gave them your best unamused expression.

"Just tell us," Alaana whined.

"Rocking the boat."

They stared at you in confusion which made you even more frustrated. With a kiss of your teeth and a sigh you continued.

"Disillusionment. What if finding out who he is or what he looks like rocks the boat and destabilizes everything? What if things change and not for the better? Like I have no idea how this man I know nothing about was able to--"

"Bring back the Y/N before you got famous and jaded?"

The three of you nodded and sat there in silence for a few moments as if giving that silence to your former self as a show of sorrowful recognition.

"He hasn't even done anything. He's just been...there."

"The universe usually brings us what we need at the time we need it. What if he is what you need?"

"I've thought about that the last few weeks. I don't know how but somehow the way I think of him has changed. I daydream about him and get giddy when I think of him. I don't remember this with anyone else and it's weird because I don’t know him in the slightest."

"You like him," Takia accused.

"I don't know him."

"Girl, please. You've been talking to this man every day for the last 3 months. Every day. You know his routine, know his likes, dislikes, and dreams. You know him so just take the next step. Maybe you guys can make things work past friends. His first initial message to you was that he would love away the pain and love all you are that you hide from the world and all you wish to be that you fear you can never be."

Hearing his earliest words spoken made goosebumps skirt across your skin. They still affected you, still made you weak.

"No lie at first I thought it was creepy but seeing how pure and innocent it has turned it doesn't make me cringe anymore. I think at least find out who he is then decide."

"What if he's some normal guy who is like a doctor or teacher?"

"Would that make you think twice?"

"Normal people don't do well in this world. It's hard to understand and adjust to."

"Or maybe he is in this world."

"Making anything work in this world sucks especially if they are already in it."

"Which is the more appealing one?"

Just then your notifications went off. Checking it, you found a new message from him.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I'm sorry I'm on a business trip and it has been a crazy day. I'm all yours now. How are you?

You smiled and typed out a reply.

You: No need for sorries. I can't expect to have you all to myself 24/7

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: And why not? It's nothing short of what you deserve.

Lite fluttering butterflies took over your stomach making you burrow deeper into the couch.

You: So are you saying if I want you 24/7 then you're mine?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Even if you don’t want me I’m yours.

"Oh my god," Alaana squealed.

Glancing back, you found Alaana peeping over your right shoulder and Takia over your left. Both had literal heart eyes.

"Ask for a picture," Takia badgered.

"Tell him you'll send one too," Alaana backed up.

Shaking your head, you chewed your bottom lip trying to stick to your guns though the curiosity was killing you. Just then, another message came through.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Scared you off?

You chewed more intently on your bottom lip as you thought over his words. You weren't scared in the slightest.

You: It takes more than that to scare me.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Good to know. So the real question is, could you--would you want me?

Seconds later, an image came through and you sat there dazed staring into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you'd ever seen.

"Wooooow," Alaana and Takia said in unison.

"That there is a beautiful man," Takia added.

She was right. Though you could only see his eyes you could see that they were kind eyes and kind eyes said a lot about someone. It had been a long time since you'd looked into a pair of kind eyes and now faced with his, you wanted nothing more than to stare into them for the foreseeable future.

"Holy Shit," you exclaimed.

"Right. Girl, I can tell he fine. I can tell these things. You can see it in the nose bridge. That's a nose bridge of a fine piece of man," Alaana said.

"The nose bridge? Come on Lana, I would have said the eyebrows and the lashes. Like, did he go to the lash bar or something? I'm jealous," Takia added.

You heard them but nothing was registering. His eyes held you captivated.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Take your time. I'll wait.

And wait he did. Your friends booed you for not answering with a resounding "hell yeah", but you didn't let it phase you. Tucking your phone away, you tried your best to focus on the rest of the movie while ignoring the big elephant trunk sticking out of your phone as if to remind you what was happening in it. You didn't need the reminder. Your mind was already thinking and overthinking the exchange.

By the time your friends had gone to sleep it was almost 2 in the morning and no matter how you tried, sleep evaded you. So with your phone in hand, a bottle of wine in the other you trekked to the pool and set yourself up. It took less than 5 minutes for you to end up back on your messages. 6 hours had gone by since his last message. 6 hours you'd left him on read. 6 hours you'd thought about his words. You pressed the audio record button then sighed.

"Even before you sent that picture...I could and would want you."

Your finger hovered over the send button and it was fear again that stood in your way. So as you did 12 weeks ago, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and pressed send. After, you dropped your phone on the lounger, grabbed the bottle of wine, and took a hearty gulp of the sweet red liquid. This brand had a higher alcohol content than most of your whites which meant it would be the best 'no thinking' wine for you. It would make it easy to relax and just exist in the moment. You leaned back and gazed into the sky. You were far enough away from the lights and glitz of the city that you could see the stars and tonight you were glad for it.

Releasing a sigh of contentment, you realized it had been years since you felt this calm. It was easy to get lost in the view which is what you did. By the time your notifications went off again, you'd had half the bottle of wine. It was a voice message.

His normally deep voice was even deeper now. He sounded as if he'd just woken up or was very intoxicated and in the mood for nothing but sin. You pressed your knees together as a sensation you hadn't felt in years washed over you--desire. Who in the fuck was this man to have this power, you wondered incredulously.

"Wow. I honestly didn't expect you to reply. I'm pleasantly surprised."

Smiling you took another mouthful of wine.

"Sorry it took so long."

"It's all good. No need to apologize. I understand you better than you think."

"How exactly? You've never met me."

"I actually did, once. It was in passing and I guess I didn't make an impression so..."

Your eyes bugged as you wracked your brain trying to figure out if you'd seen his eyes before. There was no way you'd forget eyes like those.

"Trying to think over all the people you've met through your life to see if you remember me?"

He sounded amused.

"I was trying to figure out how I could not remember eyes like yours. Since I don't think it's possible I'm going to say you're full of shit."

The recording that came next put the biggest smile on your face and set those butterflies flapping again. His laugh was a thing for masturbation.

"Real talk though."

"So safe to say you're not a teacher or CEO of some major company."

"Ha, no not a teacher. As for a CEO of some major company...that's pretty accurate."

You continued to think over who he could possibly be but nothing was sticking. The only thing that was sticking was more and more curiosity and confusion.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: As I said before. You'll know when you're ready and when you are ready...really ready for me I will be there.

You stared at his words. They were words he’d sent before. Words he'd patiently abided by. Words he apparently meant. Your heart in your chest purred as of it were blissfully soothed and content. Staring back up at the stars you gaped in wonderment.

"Wow."

~~~~~~~

-4 Weeks Later-

You: I'm ready.

You stared at the message you'd sent 30 minutes ago. You couldn't believe you'd mustered up the courage to send it let alone actually meant it. In the last 16 weeks, there had been more than enough things that were working for him than against him. He was kind, funny, patient, funny, gentle, honest, gracious, spoke of his faith in things in such a way that instilled faith in you. You'd gone from not seeing the point in continuing if emptiness was all that awaited you to wanting the next day to come so you could experience new things through and with him.

Takia asked you a week ago if you'd fallen in love with him and though you were apprehensive to give her any response your heart lurched and thudded even more strongly within your chest. Since then, you'd thought even more about meeting him.

Today you woke with a stronger desire to meet him, touch his skin and see if he smelled how you imagined, like vanilla, cedar, spiced and fragrant musk, an open field of lavender, and lemon thyme and ripe citrus. You just wanted to be in the same room to see if you were romanticizing a stranger for his kind words or if there was really something there.

"You'll be late if we don't leave now," your new manager Iyla said.

Since firing your old manager and having Iyla come in who was always in his shadow because of how obnoxious he was you'd felt better and better about your career. She'd really stepped up in the past few weeks and showed you what you already suspected, that she was good at what she did and was a much better fit for you.

Once you were out of the hotel and in your car on your way to the venue you were set to perform at, you harmonized your new song trying to make sure you had everything right. It was partly because of how much of a perfectionist you were but also to distract yourself from the silence on his end from your message.

You tried not to think that he'd seen it and left you on read or that he was not on the same page as you anymore or that he'd changed his mind about you. There were so many thoughts and possibilities running through your head that work was the only way to quiet them.

20 minutes later you arrived at the Versace show where you were going to perform. This would be a first where live music was used for the models to walk the runway rather than backtrack. When Donatella had approached you with the idea you leaped at the chance. Half of your closet was filled with Versace so there was no way you'd pass this up.

"This is so iconic," Iyla said as she readjusted your altered vintage Versace dress. The material fit you like a glove and accentuated all your striking features.

"You will be the first ever to perform at a Versace show, hell any show that isn't the VS shows. You are about to break into another layer of this atmosphere, forget the stratosphere," Iyla said with a wide smile.

There was something about her that always made you comfortable. Her vibe always gave off excited and caring big sister and you loved that.

"Are you nervous?"

You wiggled your hand to show her how in the middle of the fence you were.

"Don't be. You look amazing and we already know your voice is sublime. Talk about an Indica trip."

You smiled already feeling calmer. As you walked the black and gold carpet you smiled for the cameras and did a few interviews. Overall everyone was looking forward to the performance and the show. Across the way, you heard a commotion. The photographers went into a tizzy and fans that were mingled together across the street looking on screamed. It sounded like a K-pop concert instead of a fashion show. People loved fashion but they didn't get this crazy for it.

Carning your neck you tried to see what the fuss was all about and instead saw fans losing their ever-loving shit.

"Oh my god, it's Lewis Hamilton," one screamed.

You'd heard the name plenty of times but you'd never paid much attention. All you knew was he was British and did some kind of sport. You watched on as he stepped up on the carpet and posed in his all-black outfit. You watched on for a few moments curious as to what all the hype was. He was too far away for you to make out much of his features but from what you could make out, you had to admit he was attractive.

Though you felt Iyla tapping you to tell you it was time to move you couldn't. There was something about him that was so captivating. Alas, you had a performance to kill. You turned and saw Donatella approaching you with a huge smile.

"You look even better than I thought you would."

"That's kind. Thank you but I am only the vessel for this beautiful piece of art you've created."

The photographers screamed for you both to pose so they could get the shot and that is what you did for almost a full 10 minutes. No amount was good enough for them, they wanted more and more and more.

"Ah, Lewis. Come, come, come. Join us!”

You spun and found the same man from a few minutes ago approaching. His smile was wide as he looked at Donatella but when they shifted to you his smile slipped. At the sight of that for some reason, your belly sank. Did he know of you and didn't like you?

As quickly as the smile disappeared it appeared again. He embraced Donatella kissing both her cheeks as he exchanged pleasantries. You caught a whiff of a scent that couldn't be cologne. It had to be him. It was strong but not in an overpowering way. Though he didn't stand too close to you, you could catch notes of spiced wood, and rich floral undertones that smelled as if fragrant flowers had been gently smoked over a fire to unlock their deeper fragrance. He smelled good--mouthwatering even.

Donatella turned to you, "Do you know Y/N? Have you met?"

Your eyes met and instantly the feeling of familiarity washed over you.

"Uh--,” you began.

"No, I've never had the pleasure, Lewis said holding out his hand for yours.

You placed it in his palm and felt the familiarity shake you again in the form of a sharp but almost comforting jolt. Neither of you budged though.

"Are you sure? I swear I feel like I've seen..."

"Trust me if I had ever been properly introduced to you, I'd remember."

His eyes held you locked in place. There was something familiar about them but you knew you'd never met him before. He was right. You were sure you'd remember eyes like his. Lewis suddenly dropped your hand, then slipped to the other side of Donatella to take part in the photos. Then like a thief in the night he was gone. Who was that you thought to yourself.

As showtime approached, you tried to forget the strange encounter and the way your body came alive from his scent. The more you tried to forget the more you focused on it but instead of thinking of the man you'd just met you kept thinking about the one you'd been talking to for the last several months.

A notification came up, sending you to your DMs.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Ready for what exactly?

Seeing his message your belly fluttered. It truly had been a while since you'd had a reaction like this to anyone.

You: You know what. Ask me again.

30 seconds ticked by, then a minute, and the whole time you tried not to chew your lip. When another message came in, again your belly flipped.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Do you want me?

Seeing the rephrased question instantaneously brought up your anxiety. It was direct on purpose because he wanted an intentional answer. Not a possible or hypothetical one. Oh, you thought. This man was different from any other little boy you'd encountered and every fiber of your being said take a chance.

Unable to resist, you bit down on your bottom lip and chewed forgetting all about your plum-painted lips, and prepared to type your reply but before you could get a letter down Iyla called your name telling you it was showtime.

5 minutes later, you were backstage waiting for your cue. You would be the first to walk out and down the runway as if you were one of the models. You'd then take your seat and begin. You should have been nervous about it but you weren't, you were more nervous about the message you were about to send.

A few of the models gave you hugs and thumbs up for support just before the stage manager gave you a nod for you to go. Once you stepped through the threshold, you took note of just how many people were there. The creative director had done amazingly on the set and ambiance. The large pool in the center of the runway space really was a vibe. The audience instantly erupted in applause as you stuck your beginning pose for dramatic effect.

What a dream you thought as you took your first step down the sleek white platformed runway. There were plenty of little girls who dreamed of this moment and here you were living it. It had been a while since you were open enough to feel gratitude but here and now you felt it in full force. Another thing to credit the man who still hadn't revealed his name for.

As you walked you noted the plethora of celebrities that sat around the runway at their posh-looking garden tables watching every move you made. You saw singers, actors, models, and even athletes from varying fame levels. On your turn, you saw Dwayne Wade who was seated next to Lewis Hamilton. Both men gave you an appreciative and polite head nod as you passed. When you got to the end of the "U" shaped runway you stopped and the audience again applauded you.

Once you were seated behind the piano, you adjusted your microphone and got ready to get down to business. As the first chords of the piano played for the intro you fully gave yourself to the track. A few lines in and the models began walking showing off the art that had taken months to prepare.

The song you'd chosen tonight was new. It was something that had come to you since you'd begun your interactions in your DMs. It was softer than the songs from your last album which was quite heavy. The lyrics were flirtatious, the melody fun and soothing but it was still somehow all you.

20 minutes later you'd sang 4 new songs and was in the middle of a piano solo that would close out the show. When Donatella stepped out after the model precession went by, you added some flair to the solo giving Beethoven and Bach a run for their money. The audience clapped and whistled as you showcased your musical abilities, abilities that had gotten you your current fame and status. Upon the grand finale, you hit the perfect ending chords making Donatella laugh.

The two of you walked on either side of the line of models toward the center of the "U" shaped runway to meet and join hands. She gestured to you making the audience applaud and cheer. You did a dainty curtsy then motioned to Donatella and cheered loudly which promoted those around you to do the same. You stood there allowing the photographers to take pictures for a few moments. When you glanced down you realized you were standing directly in front of Lewis whose eyes were glued to you. The smile on his lips was soft and the look on his face was endearing. You wanted to ask why but you shook it off.

2 hours later after endless pictures, interviews, autographs, and tens of flirtatious men trying to either get your number, get you to give them your number, or convince you to leave with them for the night; you finally had time to yourself. You finished your glass of champagne, leaned on one of the 9-foot tall hedges, and scrolled through your phone.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Your voice is still haunting and amazingly beautiful, but your eyes are no longer sad and empty. God, you are gorgeous like this.

Smiling, you took a deep breath.

You: I want you.

You were sure of that now.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Are you sure?

You: Yes. I've spent the night having CEOs, oil tycoons, actors, models, athletes, artists, and men from every other profession you can think of flirt with me, attempt to spend the night with me, and try to create some sort of connection only to fail miserably because all I can think of is you and the fact you haven't once flirted with me or tried to convince me to spend the night with you.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I didn't know you wanted me to.

You: I didn't either. Now I do. I want you to. I want you to do all of that.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: What if I don't want to convince you to spend the night with me? Spending the night with you is the least of what I want to do with you.

You: What do you want?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I want your days. I want your afternoons. I want your trust. I want your honesty. I want your vulnerability. I want your mind. I want your heart.

Once again he'd stolen your breath.

You: And what do I get in return?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I will give you smiles. I will give you laughter. I will give you joy. I will give you honesty. I will give you my days. I will give you my afternoons, my nights. I will give you my loyalty. I will give you trust. I will give you vulnerability. I will give you my mind, my heart, and only when you are sure you can match me I will give you my body and all the passion and fire you can stand.

Wow, you thought.

You: I'm in Cannes for a few days. I fly out the day after tomorrow. How can we meet?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Depends. How badly do you want it?

You: I'm not thirsty or anything but a hard 9.

A voice message came through of him laughing. Then another.

"I'm glad you can hide your thirst but I won't. Not anymore. I'm at 100."

It was your turn to send a voice message of you laughing.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Glad you find my suffering funny. I'm currently in Cannes too. If you trust me enough we can meet tonight.

Your brows rose. He was in Cannes too? What a coincidence.

You: Tonight then.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Tonight.

You felt all sorts of giddy now. It overshadowed the nervousness that was trying to overtake you. Fifteen minutes later, as you left the fashion show venue, another message came through.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Vieux Port, 12. Tell this to your driver and they will know where to go.

You smiled then attached a photo of yourself from the night and sent it.

You: Me now so you don't miss me

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Jeez. You're beautiful Y/N.

You: It is a bit unfair that I still don’t know your name.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: You'll know when you see me.

You dropped Iyla off at the hotel with an excuse of wanting to sightsee then you took the drive to the port. On the way you texted her the location you would be in case you bumped into trouble. With the window down, you relaxed into the scents of Cannes. Baked goods, salty sea air, citrus, and sand. It all smelled wonderful. You'd been here tens of times before but this was the first time you'd taken time for yourself to mellow out. You were in a completely different headspace than you were on previous trips and it felt so freeing.

15 minutes later, your driver pulled up to find 2 people, a man, and a woman, already waiting there. Your phone vibrated with a notification.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I sent Verona and Linus to escort you. They are waiting at the port. I promise you're safe.

Another message came with 2 pictures and vouching credentials. Sighing, you relaxed again. He had thought of everything. As you approached the two they smiled.

"Verona? Linus?"

"Yes. Ms. Y/L/N?”

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Please follow us we will take you to the vessel," Verona said.

As you walked behind them you couldn't help but wonder what vessel and how he'd pulled all this together in less than an hour. Who was he exactly? It took all of 3 minutes until Linus and Verona both stopped in front of a lavish yacht that looked like it was at least 3 stories.

"Whoa."

"Ms. Y/L/N, after you," Linus said with an outstretched arm pointing to the boarding plank ahead.

You stood there for several moments thinking about things again. Were you really going to get on this yacht with someone you’d never met before? Were you really going to be this trusting?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I had Verona and Linus provide your driver with the details of this yacht before he left. I've told him to give it to your manager so they know where you will be and how to contact authorities if you aren't returned safely. I’ve also asked them to check in with you every 30 minutes using a code word they choose. I don't want you afraid of me Y/N. If you are afraid I won't think anything of you turning around and we can try this another way, a more public way with your manager present. Whatever you're comfortable with.

You didn't know if it was game or not but his words calmed you. Maybe it wasn't his words and the fact that he thought ahead and provided these securities for you to feel safer. A call from Iyla came through then.

"OMG, Y/N. Wow. I have so many questions and I want all the details later but your code word is Calamari. I will call every 30 minutes."

She sounded excited and you had no idea why.

"Got it."

Just like that, she ended the call. Why was she so excited? You wondered if she knew something you didn't as you put your phone in your bag. With a breath, you crossed the plank and allowed a man dressed similarly to Linus and Verona to lift you onto the yacht.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. He is waiting on the top deck. Follow this hallway to the steps at the end and up you go," Verona instructed.

With a nod, you were off. As you walked you noted just how luxurious the yacht truly was. Did he own this? If he did he was possibly in or close to your tax bracket. You weren't sure if you should be happy about it or leery. If he was in your tax bracket it could mean he was a celebrity as well. At that thought you paused on the 4th step on the stairs.

You thought about celebs that you'd tried to get to know or date and cringed. All of them were slightly weird with quirks you couldn't handle on top of your schedule and responsibilities. A celebrity relationship took a lot and you didn't know if you could give any of it.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Y/N."

You took a breath and continued. When you reached the top of the stairs your jaw dropped. There were candles and flowers everywhere. Slowly you looked around and realized they weren't just any flowers, they were your favorite flowers.

"Oh my god," you whispered.

With a step forward you took in your 360 view and you knew that no matter who he was you wanted to try for him. As you looked behind you, you walked backward distracted by the beauty surrounding you. He'd somehow managed all of this in under an hour. Somehow he'd filled the entire top deck with all your favorite things. Your favorite flowers were covering every surface of the floor. Your favorite scented candles were lit and their scent wafting in the air. Your favorite snacks and treats lining the railing on the left. Your favorite fruit lining the right railing.

"He's really been paying attention," you softly said.

"Of course I pay attention. You're important to me."

You stumbled to a stop but kept your back to the voice. You recognized his voice. You recognized it from your messages and even tonight. Suddenly, everything swirled in your mind as it slowly came together.

Hi, Y/N."

You took a deep breath and turned. Your jaw dropped while everything fell into place as you looked into eyes you'd seen before this moment. They were eyes you'd looking into mere hours ago.

"I'm Lewis."

He smiled and your heart skipped a beat but words escaped you. He didn't speak again, he waited with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore the same full black outfit from earlier but he looked even better in it now with the candles and flowers as his backdrop.

"I--you--oh my god. You're--”, you began.

"Blessedbeyondmeasure44? Yes, I am."

The silence stretched for a long moment before you snorted.

"Bullshit."

Lewis chortled in return then let out a chuckle.

"I've said it before but God I love that you have no censor and say the first thing that comes to your mind."

Your eyes bugged. He had said that before.

"No. You're not."

Lewis smiled and took a few more steps to you, "How can I prove it to you?"

"Prove?"

You wracked your brain trying to make sense of this and come up with a way he could make you believe this.

"What was the first thing I said to you in DMs?"

Without hesitation, Lewis spoke, "After you sent a follow request I said I didn't expect that this was how my day would end and you said me neither."

You raised a brow. "What was the last thing we did together?

"We went to the beach. You went to Crystal Cove in Laguna Beach and I went to La Concha because I was in Spain at the time. You sent me a beautiful picture of a cave and said it was one of your secret spots. It was called--.”

"Dana's Point," you finished as he proved his point.

"I can show you the messages, and our pictures including the one you sent earlier so I wouldn’t miss you. I wouldn't miss you though Y/N. You stand out no matter what."

He took another step to you leaving only a few inches between you. He reached out and took your hands.

"I have missed you though. I've missed you in so many moments that I wished you were with me, so many experiences I wished I had with you. I missed you every time a message of yours came in. I even missed you in my dreams."

You lifted your hand and cupped his cheek while staring into his eyes.

"I knew I saw those eyes before. I felt it."

Lewis smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this in front of those cameras and the crowd. I'm sorry I wasn't 100% truthful."

You smirked.

"Your message."

Lewis cupped your cheek in return. "Your voice is still haunting and amazingly beautiful, but your eyes--," he paused then cupped your other cheek. Using his thumbs, he softly slid them across your cheekbones. "Your eyes are no longer sad and empty. God, you are gorgeous like this."

Tears welled your eyes and you scoffed.

"Now you flirt with me."

A chuckle fell from his lips and if you hadn't fallen for him before you definitely had now. You hung your head and shook it.

"I am so stupid. This whole time."

"You're not."

"You're Lewis Hamilton. I am sure any other woman would have recognized those eyes. I had no clue. Hell, I don’t know the first thing about you, not really. Yeah, you're a racer but other than that..." you shrugged.

Lewis lifted your head his hands now cupping your skull. It put you on high alert at just how large his hands were. "Hey, love that you had no clue. I love that you don't know me. It was refreshing. I loved these last few months of you knowing me and me knowing you without the extra stuff."

"We know the extra stuff now. Oh my god, from the ruckus on the carpet of the Versace show you're a huge celebrity. How in the world---."

Before you could continue your freak-out Lewis' lips were on yours. It was like you’d stuck your finger in an electrical socket. Your entire body came to life as if his touch was life itself. His soft lips slowly pressed against yours before he opened them enough to take your top lip between his. From there all thought escaped you.

When one of his hands slipped around your waist you moaned unexpectedly. Where had that come from? Your body had no trouble following along. You pressed yourself closer to him relishing the tingles that skirted across your lips and everywhere he touched. Just as you were going to sink your fingers into his braids, Lewis pulled away keeping his forehead to yours.

"Do you want me?"

His voice was low and deep and it wrapped around you pulling you closer to him.

"I-I don’t see how I can have you."

Again Lewis kissed you. This time he delved his tongue into your mouth wrapping it around yours, teasing you to open more for him. When you did it was because you moaned. He took advantage of that opening and kissed you in a way that said he was not letting you go. His moan melded with yours and you felt his other hand tighten as he held your skull. Tearing his lips away, he panted as harshly as you were.

"Do you--want--me? Because I want you Y/N. I want you even knowing the obstacles in our way. I want you more than I have wanted anything in a long time. I want you in ways that surprise me and make me year all at once. I'm not saying this will be a walk through the park. I'm saying I want to walk together with you from this night on. Do you want me too?"

He had to be kidding. Who in their right mind would say no after that? You snorted then laced your fingers together behind his neck thrusting yourself flush against him.

"I want you more than anything. I want you in my life. I want to really run with you though I hate it. I want to go to beaches together and have movie nights truly together. I want to see the same sunrise and sunsets you see. I want to touch your skin like this whenever I want instead of thinking about it. I want to smell you every day. Yes, Lewis. I want you too."

The look in his eyes held you in place as did the tightness of his arms that were now wrapped around your waist holding you possessively against him.

"I can't wait to give you the world Y/N," Lewis said in such a way you knew he meant every word.

"I don't need the world, nor do I want it. I just want you."

His smile was the cutest thing and you knew you'd never get tired of it.

"You have me. Next up...the world."

You smiled then giggled when he lifted you in the air and spun you around. You laughed louder loving the way the sound came from the very depths of you and how authentic it felt. When he put you down you were at the railing looking out to the ocean.

"Started from a DM now we here," Lewis said making you snort.

"Started from a DM soon the whole world will fuckin hear bout it."

Lewis threw his hands up.

"Ayyyy!”

You laughed loudly and soon he joined in. When he wrapped his arms around you again he gazed into your eyes but said no words. Slowly both of you moved closer until your lips softly touched. Neither of you moved. You took the time to savor the feel of your skin connecting in a way your minds and souls already had. A way that he had retaught you, a way that he so patiently and diligently worked for and it all started when he messaged your heart.

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

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton drabble #message my heart one shot

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a-french-coconut · 3 days ago

Text

I like to think that Malcolm Pace looks like a total nerd but can and will beat the shit of you.

He's Athena's son with Ares' mindset.

He thinks a little about the plan of action, then decide that the best one is punching his way through.

There's no invisibility trick like Annabeth's. Sure, he might do a sneak attack but Malcolm will charge right at his enemies. Having in mind their weaknesses and how to exploit them, of course.

But whereas his siblings might wait to have a solid victory plan before engaging, Malcom is more in the "I'll figure out the details later" mindset.

When he gets into a fight with another camper ?

He's def not going to be the biggest person and try to solve it with words. Nah, he'll gut-punch them instantly.

Drew cheering on the side, telling him to go wild while Connor tells him to aim for jaw next only encourage him.

On that note, Drew, Malcolm and Connor are a bunch of mean girls and I will die on that hill.

Not "I'll plunge your head in the toilet" type but rather the ones seating on a bench and judging whoever passes by them.

Drew makes faces at people's outfit.

Connor laughs when someone trips (then he helps them up because he's a trained older brother despite himself being the younger one)

And Malcolm has an incredibly arrogant stare that screams "I'm better than you in every way". That's not his fault though, it's an Athena's trait. It has also something to do with fact that he's the uncontested winner of chess at Camp. Nobody ever managed to beat him.

(Except Connor.)

(But he cheated. So it doesn't count.)

How it happened below :

Connor has a simple ideology.

If he sees victory at his front step, he'll open the door.

"Aha !" He said smugly, trapping Malcolm's king with his queen and rook. "Checkmate."

"You just moved your rook diagonally." Malcolm said drily, giving him a flat look. "The rook moves horizontally and vertically."

And if the door happened to have lock, as archaic rules that structured the entire game, Connor was a son of Hermes. It was his divine heritage to waddle around it.

"My rook is just better than your rooks."

Malcolm's right eye twitched. It was a telltale sign that he was about to deck the nearest person. In this case, it was Connor himself.

Which meant he should probably stop. Take back his rook. And continue the game as it should be played.

But he had opened the door. And what a bad host he would be to close it into victory's face ! Very improper of him as the son of travellers.

Connor leaned back on his chair, gesturing loosely at the game. "I won that fair and square."

Malcolm's eye twitched again.

Connor bolted out of the Athena Cabin and Malcolm followed him just as fast.

They passed by Will Solace and upon his questioning gaze, Connor took it as his duty to enlighten him.

"He's just mad I beat him at chess !" He screamed, then snickered loudly at Malcolm's indignant squawk.

"YOU CHEATED !"

End of how it happened.

Now of course, rumour spread and soon, everybody at Camp thought Connor had beaten Malcolm at chess.

And he just loooves to to tease him about it.

"Hey, Drew." Connor swung an arm around her shoulders nodding towards Malcolm who was reading a book about aerodynamics, but right within earshot. "Do you wanna hear about how I beat Malcolm at Chess ?"

And woah. Connor's pretty sure he just heard the book spine snap.

Malcolm looked at him with murderous intent. "You cheated."

Connor shrugged. "Says you. And even I did, who care about the details. Right ?" He asked the daughter of Aphrodite.

Drew rolled her eyes, and popped out a her bubble gum. "Nerds. Play strip poker next time."

"I hate the both of you." Malcolm grumbled, face disappearing behind the book under Connor and Drew cackles echoing in the air.

#pjo #malcolm pace #connor stoll #drew tanaka

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antheyaaa · 2 months ago

Note

haayayyy OKOK SO I HAVE AN IDEA what if the reader was an artist and before they date cal or before they get to know cal they always drew him in their sketchbook since they had a crush on him and when they got to date/ got to know him he found their sketchbook?? (I'm heavily projecting bc I love drawing my crushes)

"Drawn to You"

Calvin Gabriel x reader

Your sketchbook had always been your safe space.

Page after page, you filled it with little pieces of your world—quick doodles of passing strangers, detailed portraits of people you admired, messy scribbles of fleeting emotions. But lately, one face had dominated your pages. Sharp eyes, furrowed brows, a hint of a smirk that never quite reached his eyes. Calvin Gabriel.

It had started before you even really knew him. Before you were dating, before you even had an excuse to talk to him, you had been captivated. Something about the way he carried himself, always half in the shadows, always looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, made your fingers itch to capture it.

And so, you had.

Over and over again.

And now, months into your relationship, your sketchbook was still full of him. The only difference was that now you had real moments to go along with the drawings—the way his hand lingered on yours when he thought no one was looking, the way he let out a soft huff of laughter when you said something dumb, the rare, almost shy smile that made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

You never really thought about what would happen if he saw them.

Until now.

—

You had been in a rush that morning, stuffing your books into your bag with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie. In your hurry, you hadn’t even noticed that your sketchbook—your very private, very incriminating sketchbook—had fallen out onto Calvin’s bed.

So, of course, when you returned to his place after school, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through the pages like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Your heart stopped.

“Calvin—!”

His head snapped up at your panicked voice, eyes widening slightly. Then, as if realizing he had been caught red-handed, he smirked—smirked.

“So,” he drawled, holding up the open sketchbook, “wanna tell me why I’m basically the star of this?”

You felt heat crawl up your neck, a mortified mix of panic and sheer regret. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He flipped to another page, tilting his head as he examined one of the more detailed sketches—one where you had actually taken your time, shading in the way his hoodie bunched around his shoulders, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead.

“I—” you started, but your words died in your throat because he wasn’t mocking you. His expression had shifted, the teasing smirk still lingering, but softer now. More thoughtful.

“This one’s really good,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I look kinda cool here.”

“You are cool,” you mumbled, arms crossing over your chest.

Calvin snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

You huffed, moving forward to snatch the sketchbook from his hands, but he was faster, leaning back just enough to keep it out of reach.

“Not so fast,” he said, flipping another page. His eyes scanned the drawings, his smirk fading into something more unreadable. “So… you’ve been drawing me for a while, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Calvin—”

“I mean, like… a while.” He tapped a sketch near the front of the book—one from before you had even spoken to him. “This one looks old.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your stomach twisting. “Yeah. So what?”

Calvin didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the sketchbook, resting his hands over it as he looked at you—really looked at you.

“You had a crush on me,” he said. Not a question. A statement.

You groaned again. “Shut up.”

He grinned, leaning forward slightly. “You totally did.”

“Calvin—”

“Like, before we even started talking?” His eyebrows lifted, a mix of surprise and something else—something warmer.

You sighed, dropping your hands. “Yeah, okay? I had a crush on you. And I guess drawing you was my way of dealing with it.”

Calvin was quiet for a second, fingers tapping idly against the cover of the sketchbook. Then, slowly, he turned it around and pushed it toward you.

“You should keep drawing me,” he said, voice softer now. “I mean, if you want.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You… don’t think it’s weird?”

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Nah. Kinda like the idea of being in your head that much.” He shot you a lopsided smirk. “Plus, you make me look good.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched despite yourself. “Cocky much?”

Calvin smirked. “You like me anyway.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you hugged the sketchbook to your chest. He wasn’t wrong.

And as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with that quiet, effortless ease of his, you thought—maybe you’d draw him again tonight.

Hey, I had a hard week so I could only post it now,I don't know about you, but it's almost midnight where I'm posting this, so I can honestly say I've had a long and hard week. Remember, I'm happy to accept messages and requests. @joc3lynx I hope you like it, I won't lie, sometimes I also draw my crushes🫢.

With love-Antheya

#calvin gabriel #cal gabriel #andre and cal #cal and andre #zero day 2003 #zero day movie #zero day #movies #x yn #x reader #x oc #andre #andre kriegman #andre kriegman x reader

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writingdevil · 9 months ago

Text

Spirits in Shambles Part 2

(Warning-Blood,violence,death!)

Mumbo saw Pearl's sadistic grin,and he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement in his-body?Spirit?Whatever it was,he felt it deep within him. They held that intensity in their eyes for a few silent seconds,before they darted off,flying over the unmoving body of the man without even a glance back to him.Pearl sharply turned to the left,and Mumbo caught a twinkle of the stars in her mischievous eyes,before he flew down to the first floor.

As Mumbo floated down and glanced around the living room,his mind was brought back to when he was truly alive.

He remembered feeling that giddy,excited rush that he was experiencing now,but when he discovered redstone.The realisation that this material could be used to power something completely new,unlocked a passion that Mumbo didn't even know he had.

He had always been a lover of knowledge and learning,and this was no different.Every experiment,every slight mistake or explosion,every single burn on his hands and arms,only fuelled him further to get it right.So when he did,Mumbo was over the moon,spending days and weeks just scribbling in his notes like a madman,writing every possible idea for inventions and how to go about it.

Mumbo's head whirled to the left as he heard a noise,and he couldn't contain his giggling as he floated closer to it,peering his head around the corner to see the man with no sleeves walking aimlessly down the hallway,mumbling nervously to himself.But even with his excitement,Mumbo suddenly had no idea what the best way to go about this would be,that would be the most efficient and enjoyable.Then he remembered that he still had that beeping device in his hand.

He wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed, but he remembered one morning,when he was cheering in glee,alone in his workshop,at having creating such a silly,little invention-a little button game for him to play.Then the next thing he knew, he was coughing blood and his head was falling onto his desk,and the last thing he saw was his blood mixing with the redstone dust and staining his notes,before he drew his last breath.

"I bet you'll like this,ghost finder,"he muttered to himself,then floated just close enough for Mr.No Sleeves to hear the beeping,who jumped on the spot,shouting wildly in surprise as he whirled around.As he spun around,Mumbo burst out laughing at how fast his face dropped,at seeing a levitating device in the air,no doubt.

He was so caught up in his amusement that he didn't even realise the lights were flickering,not until Mr.No Sleeves reacted to them,his behavior shifting drastically.He was as silent as the night as he spun around,aiming for a closet to hide in."Well that's not very brave of you,ghost finder,"Mumbo said in disappointment,before grinning playfully as he launched the device at the guy,and whooped in victory as it hit him right in the back of his head, causing him to stumble and fall.

Being dead-was certainly hard,at first.But what was more painful was being forced to feel the world move on without him,to hear that nobody came to his funeral,to realise that Mumbo didn't know anybody to go to his funeral.

He never regretted how he lived,but he died and the world didn't even care.The only thing that cared was this house,because it clung to Mumbo desperately,and he wasn't too keen on leaving so soon either,and he started to think that maybe-he wasn't brilliant or a genius,but just a dumb, miserable spoon.

Until he met Pearl.

The man groaned as he attempted to sit up while also trying to inch closer to the closet,but Mumbo just giggled as he flew over to him,and when the man flinched,excitement and intrigue bubbled up within Mumbo,because that meant that they could hear him.

He wanted more of that.He wanted a reaction. Nobody cared about him when he passed away. People were barely kind to him when he was alive-nobody wanted to go near the mad scientist with his bizarre ideas.

They sure as hell were gonna care now.

Before the man could go any further,Mumbo wrapped his hands around one of his ankles,and started to drag him backwards,causing Mr.No Sleeves to speak up,shouting incoherent noises as he flailed around,attempting to grab onto anything as he was dragged down the hallway.

"Let go of me you ghost jerk!"the man yelled,now trying to swing his arms back and hit him,and Mumbo watched in amusement as his arms went through his transparent body uselessly.Still,he'll oblige,he has manners after all.

"Okay,ghost finder.But first-"and with that,Mumbo grinned sadistically as he twisted the man's foot around until he heard a deafening snap,that was soon drowned out by the man's howls of pain.

Mumbo clutched his stomach as he laughed, watching in glee as the man tried to stand up,using the wall for support,blood dripping down from his head and onto the wooden floor.

Movement from outside caught his attention,and Mumbo saw the scarred ghost finder exiting their vehicle and coming up to the front door again.He'd better wrap this up.

As the man began to slump against the wall, Mumbo kicked the beeping device towards the human's feet,and the man groaned as he glanced down at the device.When Mumbo approached him,he hoped that he could make this human feel as scared and as helpless as Mumbo felt,being forced to watch these strangers barge in and ruin the one source of comfort for himself and Pearl.

He gazed into the man's eyes,delighted at the flurry of emotions that flew by him.Confusion, frustration,worry and-fear.There it was.

Mumbo started to chuckle,which built up into maniacal giggling,which exploded into pure, unhinged cackling,as he grabbed the man by the shirt and began to repeatedly slam him against the wall."Stop it!What is this?"the man yelled out,hands reaching for nothing as he tried to grab Mumbo. Mumbo calmed down enough to halt his assault, starting to float higher and higher up in the air, taking the man with him,who groaned in pain as he lowered his head.Mumbo leaned in closer and whispered in his ear,"This is just what I am."

Pearl Moon.What a fascinating person she was. After coming to terms with his death,Mumbo had no choice but to hide away in his house,replaying each moment of his life and wondering about how much better it could have been if Mumbo was just normal.

He never liked seeing the next generation of humans interact with his house.It was always such a shock how much time had changed,how different people behaved now since Mumbo had been alive.But the thing he hated the most was that these people would just barge in and hate everything that Mumbo loved about his home.

Mumbo wouldn't call himself a brilliant interior designer,but he was proud of his home and loved every tiny detail of it,and then these people just stomped in and grimaced at that love.'Oh,this wallpaper is such an unusual pattern,' or 'Why is this room built this way?It's so weird and unpractical.' Because Mumbo liked it,alright!Thankfully,his house was odd enough to drive people away,but an icy fear always had a tight hold on him whenever someone inspected his house.Until Pearl came and thawed him out.

The second she stepped through that door,her eyes were filled with so much awe,that Mumbo actually was concerned for her.But she just kept smiling,running around and exploring the house with almost childlike wonder,treating his house with a softness that Mumbo wasn't even sure that he had.She just-fell in love with everything that made Mumbo feel happy.

So when she continued to treat his house with that same respect,while still adding her own style that made the house feel somehow complete,as if waiting years for a touch like hers,it changed Mumbo's perspective entirely.She had a gift for design and color,and made the house feel bigger and better than Mumbo could've ever dreamed of. She added her own painting next to Mumbo's silly little drawings of concept for redstone,she decorated various rooms in ways that just made them feel more alive somehow,and she never,ever once threw out a single item of Mumbo's,not even his messy notebooks.

Mumbo's never wished to talk to another human more than he did in that moment.Pearl was funny, talented and always looked on the positive side of things,and for the first time-in a weird way-Mumbo actually felt like they were friends,despite her not knowing he existed.

But then she died,and changed everything for both of them.

"What's wrong,ghost finder?Aren't you used to all of this since you're all such experts on ghosts?" Mumbo tormented,as he felt the man freeze beneath his grip.When he didn't get a response,he sighed in disappointment-then just threw him at the wall behind them,the human's body crumpling up on the floor instantly.He heard the man groan, bit was making no attempts to stand up this time.

Mumbo sighed in frustration-were all ghost finders this easy to break?"If you think about it really,I'm doing you a favour,"Mumbo said as he casually walked over,hands in his pockets."What could possibly be better than finding ghosts?Being a ghost.Also,to be honest,you kind of had this coming,because you trespassed into our home. Have people just lost their manners in the time since I've died or what?"He just stood there,staring down at the shaking figure of the man.He obviously wasn't expecting a response,but the lack of a reply still frustrated him.

"I was a person once too,you know.I once indulged in dangerous things and look where that got me-dead with no one to even acknowledge who I was.I can understand wanting to do thrilling things,I do. But when you have to pay with your life for them,it just makes you less than chuffed to see other people getting away with it,not to mention that you're wrecking my only home."

Mumbo turned and swept his eyes over the floor, until he landed on the beeping device.He picked it up,feeling a curious need to pry it open and see what its insides were like and how it worked.But he couldn't,and that was just another thing that he will never be able to do again.He faced the man again, who was now just breathing heavily with blood pouring out of his head."Forgive me,I'm not usually this prone to violence,I'm much more about peace and love,"he lowered himself,studying the pale face of this ghost finder,who seemed so cheerful and excited when they had arrived."but it's hard to be peaceful when I know that we deserved better in life,but now we have to find it in death,and it'd be a lot easier without you lot poking your noses into our business."

With that,Mumbo's face was cold and serious as he bashed the beeping device into the guy's face and head,until he almost looked unrecognizable.Then Mumbo stood up.

"Well then,on to the next one,"he said to himself, floating back into the living room,just in time for the scarred one to enter the house again.He had an empty notebook on his lap as he looked around the room curiously,softly calling out,"Impulse? Skizz?"

Mumbo was debating on what to do with this one, when the both of them jumped and yelled out in fright as a body in red fell down from the second floor."Goodness gracious!"Mumbo shouted, clutching his tie as he glanced up,staring up at the giggling face of Pearl,the stars in her eyes shining bright as she laughed.

"Hey Mumbo!Have fun toying with humans?"

"Y-Yes,but it looks like you've enjoyed yourself the most."Mumbo studied the body of the other ghost finder,his sandy blonde hair sticking out wildly and dark bruises already forming on his frozen face. Mumbo personally didn't want the details.

Pearl's attention shifted over to the final ghost finder,tilting her head as she hummed in curiosity, floating right in front of the man,who was staring at his friend's corpse and fearfully babbling into his radio,but they both knew that nobody was going to answer.

"Why's he got an empty notebook?"Mumbo asked, but Pearl just shrugged in response,and picked the notebook up for herself.But they were both surprised when the scarred man's face lit up in joy as he said,"Oh,we've got ghost writing!"

"Oh,so they want us to write in the book?"Mumbo guessed,not missing how Pearl's fingers clenched the book in rage."His friends are dead and he's more worried about evidence?"Pearl gritted out and-oh yeah,Mumbo completely missed that part. To ignore his embarrassment,he floated behind the man's wheelchair,studying his expressions closely.

"Maybe he's a man that only cares about his job, and nothing else,"he suggested."Not even his friends?"was Pearl's confused response."Well I never said it was a good life choice to make.I personally know a certain spoon that lived life that way,and I hear his death was rather depressing." Pearl did giggle at that,and Mumbo smiled,happy to just make her happy.

"We should show him how that's a bad way to live," and there was Pearl's feral grin again,as she began furiously writing in the book,and Mumbo simply placed his hands on the man's shoulders,chuckling at the yelp he let out.Pearl was done in a matter of moments,her stars burning bright with mischief as she slowly turned the book around for the man to see,and there,in sharp,jagged writing were the words-SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE.

Mumbo took that opportunity to twist and snap his neck,killing him before he could even react to the message.

"Yay!We did it!"Pearl cheered,tossing the book in the air,and Mumbo winced as it hit the corpse of the red jumper guy.Pearl didn't seem to care, instead grabbing his hands and spinning them around,and Mumbo couldn't stop the laughter that burst out of him,as they spun high in the air in celebration.

"We defended our home!"

"We got to have some fun!"

"We got new ghost friends!"

"We-"CRACK.

The horror didn't end there though.

They froze,once happy smiles now awkwardly stuck to their faces,as they heard another crack.

Mumbo tightened his hold on Pearl's hand,and felt the remnants of his soul shake as he glanced down, and saw that the scarred man's neck was beginning to move."Pearl,what's happening?"Mumbo whispered,but he got no response as they watched the corpse move.

His hands blindly patted his neck,eyes still dead and lifeless,but then he managed to place his hands against his neck and chin and twist his neck back into place.Mumbo flinched as they heard a crack behind them,and Pearl twisted around, keeping Mumbo behind her as they watched in horror,as the red jumper guy's body start to shake and convulse,his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to move limbs that shouldn't be moving.

"Pearl,what's happening?"he repeated,clutching the back of her hoodie fearfully,as they began to hear more sickening sounds echoing throughout the house.

Crack.

"I-I don't know-I don't know what's going on,"Pearl whispered,and Mumbo wished more than anything that they had a body,so that they could just run away and not have to witness whatever nightmare they had found themselves in.

The corpses moved like puppets taking control of their own limbs,clumsy and wild,as bones snapped back into place,and cuts and gashes disappeared from their bodies.Mumbo even heard groaning and unsure stomping from upstairs,and then he saw the man in the black and yellow t-shirt stumble out of the bathroom,clinging to the railing as he tried to remember how to walk.

"They're not human,"Mumbo hissed,pressing himself as close as he could to Pearl's back,who had been frozen into silence now,her arms still splayed out and keeping Mumbo at a distance from it all."These people are more horrifying than us-they're demonic,Pearl!"

Mumbo gasped,watching in disbelief as Mr.No Sleeves walked into the living room,merely rubbing his back as if he had nothing more than just simple back pain.His face was unblemished,and he didn't look bothered at all-the freak!

Mr.No Sleeves smiled as he helped red jumper guy up to his feet,who just dusted himself off and sighed,as if all that was just an inconvenience.

Mumbo felt like puking,especially when red jumper guy looked at the other three ghost finders and simply asked,"So what evidence have we got?"

#would you want a part 3?#boatem #grian #hermitcraft #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #my writing #pearlescentmoon #gigs phasmo #goodtimeswithscar #team gigs #skizzleman

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analoceits · 1 year ago

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love bites CH. 1: new blood

A03 LINK

Virgil leaned against the headboard and sighed. The apartment was strangely silent, and not in a pleasant way. It seeped into his bones and rested there, choking his lungs. It was the type of quiet that made him cry as a kid, because he could hear his blood flowing and his heart beating and he could feel how fragile both were..

At least he couldn’t hear either now.

Whatever. That was irrelevant. He was thinking about the quiet, because that meant Logan was gone and it was stressing him out. Logan had warned him, of course - some kind of after school program his professor had offered him that meant he would be staying a little later. Even if he knew why though, it didn’t stop his thoughts from racing.

Virgil had protested when Logan brought it up. Lo, jesus christ, that late? Seriously? C’mon, that is a disaster waiting to happen- what if you get lost? Or, you could get stolen away by some creepy guy, or you could get fucking mugged, or- (Or Bitten.)

But Logan, as comforting as ever, reached a hand up and gently patted his shoulder, stating, the cities crime rate is particularly low. That’s why we both chose to live here, isn’t it? I will be completely alright. To give you extra assurance, I’ll inform you when I leave so you can ‘freak the fuck out’ as you said if I’m not home in thirty or so minutes, ok?

As promised, the text had arrived twenty-seven minutes ago. Logan should be home any minute now. Virgil sighed, laying back against the headboard. Logan’s words were absurdly comforting. It shouldn’t be allowed, really. It’s as if Logan had stolen the voice of an angel somehow, and used it just to speak to Virgil in the softest way.

For the approximately 100th time since the realization had hit Virgil a number of months ago, that thought ran through his head again. Despite every warning and caution against, Virgil had fallen hopelessly, and desperately in love with a mortal.

The thought sent a miserably defeated let delighted sigh through him, before it was cut off by the front door pulling open and promptly slamming shut so hard that it shook the apartment. Virgil shot straight up, fear striking through his ribs, head spinning to the vague direction of the noise, “Logan?” He yelled across the apartment.

There was no answer.

“Logan!” He repeated, the force in his voice stronger this time.

Logan did not answer. Logan always answered.

Virgil was running before he really knew it, his body moving with unnatural stiff perfection, any passing thought of seeming human escaping him as his feet slammed against the floor. He flung around the corner in less than a second and caught his eyes on a figure.

No, not a figure, it was Logan. It was Logan, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes and only then between his terror and relief did Virgil remember there were actually reasons why he had to seem human. A major one being to not terrify his very human roommate

After a brief, embarrassed glance down that resulted in him seeing black, smoking marks in the tile (they were not getting their deposit back now) he looked back up and spoke, still unsure if he was embarrassed or terrified. “Logan, are you ok? Did something happen? You could’ve called me, you know-” Logan raised his hand to cut Virgil off, and Virgil hesitantly obliged.

In what was becoming a pretty concerning pattern - Logan still did not speak.

They both stared at each other in an awkward, tense silence. It’s like they were playing a game of chicken where Virgil was trying to not open his mouth again, and Logan was trying to remember what words were. Virgil barely resisted the urge to reach for him as the silence drew on.

Finally, finally because Virgil might fucking die - die again - if he didn’t hear the nerds voice right then, Logan spoke. “I am alright.” He said, but the words shook as he spoke them, “.. I didn’t know you could run that fast, Virgil.”

Virgil resisted the urge to cringe so hard his fangs would dig into his bottom lip, and instead responded with a very hesitant, “I didn’t know you liked slamming doors all of a sudden, but here we are.” Despite his best efforts, the words held more concern than annoyance.

Logan did actually cringe at that, seemingly having less self control than Virgil which - jesus, when did that happen? - but he managed to force out an answer. “I apologize, it was just stress,” he said and Virgil could see it - he looked strikingly pale. As pale as Virgil had been all those years ago.

The thought sent a viscous nausea through him.

“So..,” Virgil started, picking over his words carefully, because Logan for the first time was the fragile one of the two of them and Virgil couldn’t stand himself if he broke Logan while he was like this, “you aren’t alright, are you?” He asked in his best soft voice, taking a hesitant step forward.

Despite his attempt at softness, Logan took the words viscerally, entire body tensing as he stepped back. As if Virgil had just torn him open for all to see. “I am fine.” He responded tersely, and Virgil was pretty sure the tension in the room might kill them both.

Virgil hated this, he decided suddenly. Whatever the fuck was happening, he hated it. He hated Logan staring at him like a terrified puppy, and he hated trying to advance on him like he was animal control. “Logan, something is clearly wrong. I’m worried. Please, please just let me help. This once?”

Logan stared at him, thinking over the words seemingly - and then he tried to run. He was running across the floor - and when the fuck did he learn to run that fast - then Virgil was grabbing him by his wrist, cringing with guilt at the way Logan made a pathetic half-shriek in his throat at that.

Virgil held on loosely, knowing it wasn’t a fight in the first place. Humans always felt weak against him now, it took more focus to not hurt them than it did, really. Even if it made him sick to think about, Logan didn’t really have a chance against him. Virgil took a deep breath.

Then Logan tore out of his grasp with a sudden strength Virgil didn’t know he had, pushing Virgil off hard enough to make him stumble before spinning around and starting to scramble with his rooms door. Virgil was frozen for a brief moment. That shouldn’t be possible. How was that possible?

His mind caught up eventually, and suddenly Virgil reached out and pulled Logan away from the door, holding tight to him with a strength that would have usually crushed his ribs. “Logan, Logan, what the utter fuck-” Virgil hissed under his breath, dragging him into the living room.

Logan kicked against him with that scary force again, but he was unfocused - even if he was.. stronger, somehow, he clearly hadn’t learned to use that strength at all. After a few moments, Logan calmed down enough for Virgil to hold him just by his wrists.

The way that Logan pulled against him, trying to use all the force in his body, reminded Virgil viscerally of himself freshly turned.

Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about his turning and being a vampire cause he was pretty sure that was just making things worse, actually. Instead, he needed to focus on the problem in front of him - the shaking fucking mess of his roommate he was trying to subdue.

Virgil choked down his best approximation of a deep breath and tightened his grip around Logan’s wrists as gently as he could until he could feel Logan stopping his attempts at struggle. It felt - mean, really shitty actually, but something was deeply fucking wrong and he was not leaving it. He couldn’t take the risk.

Even if he wasn’t struggling against Virgil, though, Logan was clearly struggling to breath and Virgil knew they weren’t going to have any of the good conversation he wanted while Logan was having a panic attack.

“Hey, bud,” he started tentatively, trying his best to speak to the shaking mass of Logan, “I got you, don’t worry.” He said before adding a few clicks after - he knew humans couldn’t hear them, but it was still instinctual. Even if Logan couldn’t hear them, Virgil would swear he relaxed a little after he did them - maybe Janus was right about his theory that humans could sense them subconsciously.

Slowly, painfully, over a number of minutes Virgil did not bother to count, Logan calmed down. His panicked wheezes turned to shaky but deep breaths and the tenseness slowly leaked out of him. That lost look in his eyes slowly became more aware, gaze focused on the tile. Virgil gave an encouraging smile, “there you go.”

Then, without a singular fucking warning, Logan lunged at him. Virgil didn’t even think to fight back, instead just standing dumbly as he felt what were now obviously baby fangs try to dig into his skin for blood that wasn’t there. Blood that hadn’t been there for years.

Logan choked out a shriek and pulled back sharply, looking at Virgil with overwhelming guilt and terror. “I- Virgil, I’m so sorry, that was unintentional I wouldn’t ever hurt you- I didn’t- Virgil-” his voice broke and he was clearly begging now, as Virgil just stood there, processing the shock.

As soon as he processed it, though, he was moving. He reached out and grabbed Logan, practically dragging him to the couch and throwing him at it. “Stay here,” he hissed, a million thoughts screaming through his head as he ran through the kitchen.

The loudest was in Janus’s voice. You had barely five minutes to live after that bite, if I hadn’t helped.

He was by the fridge and his hands were in the icy cold that he couldn’t even feel anymore and he was grasping around for a feeling of a latch, a secret compartment tucked away in the back of the fridge fucking hell where was it-

His finger caught on something and he pulled on it so hard the compartment door snapped and clattered to the floor with a slam. He did not care, his hands awkwardly grasping for the first thing he could grab. There was a bag of blood in his hands and he was moving, darting for the living room.

Somewhere between the living room and kitchen he tore the bag. He must’ve, because there was blood pouring onto his fingers and onto the floor and it did not matter for a second, nothing mattered but getting too Logan.

He dropped to a knee by Logan’s side, and he looked painfully, horrifically pale now. Virgil could see the way he struggled to breath, one hand grasping at his neck, this time not with fear but from the creeping death Virgil knew was approaching him. Virgil reached out, his bloody hands were on his jaw and he was tilting his head back and-

He poured the blood into Logans mouth, practically covering them both in red. Time stumbled back into place as he did, Virgil able to hear the telltale way Logan desperately choked down the blood. Virgil dug his nails into the couch, pulling himself up. It was all he could do to stop himself from physically tackling Logan.

Everything was slower now, every movement drawn out and Virgil took a shaky breath through his dead lungs. He was so indescribably happy he could breath again, that everything was alright, that Logan would be okay. They were okay.

Then his eyes drifted down to the literal blood on his own hands and he was leering again.

Not quickly like moments ago, no- time slowed around him, the whole force of it pressing against as his back just to indulge in his misery, his shame. Because Virgil had just done the worst thing he could do. He was just as bad as he thought he would become.

Technically, he didn’t. Virgil, for all intents and purposes did not turn Logan. No, that process was started for him by someone else. Someone who Virgil was going to slaughter, going to watch them choke and die starved of blood just like the fate they almost damned his Logan too-

But Virgil had ended the process.

Without even giving Logan a choice. A horrible false choice; a choice between an instant death and a stretched out, painful eternity neither of which he would fully understand, but some semblance of choice. Instead, without asking he poured the blood in his mouth he damned Logan just like he had been damned and-

Logan hugged him. His arms were around Virgil’s torso and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind, gasping into his chest and getting more blood all over the both of them. Virgil stood, his arms by his side dumbly as he processed it and then he hugged him back, holding him in what was practically a death grip.

After a long, tender moment Logan pulled himself up, wriggling out of Virgil's hold embarrassedly. His cheeks were flushed red and he glanced down at the couch with wide eyes. Virgil could not fucking believe Logan had the emotional capacity to be embarrassed over a hug after everything that had just happened.

Virgil eventually fully let Logan go, sitting down beside him on the couch. He took a deep steadying breath and glanced up at Logan with the best reassuring smile he could muster.

Logan gave him a similar, if shakier smile back and Virgil could swear, for just a second, they might actually end up ok. Even if things were gonna be utterly terrible for a while they might, by some fucking miracle, be ok. Of course they would. They were together.

“So..,” Logan awkwardly pawed for the coffee table in front of them, grabbing a notepad and pen with shaky hands. He clicked the pen, turning back to Virgil. “Would the correct terminology be ‘vampirism’?” He asked, pen hovering over paper. Virgil blinked, and then started cackling so hard he was worried he would damage something.

Logan glared at him with withering embarrassment, but Virgil knew it held no heat behind it. He was pretty sure at the moment neither of them knew how to be mad at each other. After a moment, Virgil managed to nod through his cackles.

As soon as Virgil managed to officially calm down - which took a solid minute and a half, by his guess, he looked to Logan and gave him a reassuring smirk, feeling much more calm than just a few minutes ago. Ok. They were gonna be okay. “Sorry. I’m sorry, really, mean it,” he forced out with only a few giggles, “anything else?”

Logan squinted his eyes at him for a long second, still holding onto his annoyance from Virgil's reaction, but he eventually relented, “well, I.. have a list,” Virgil snorted again and Logan pointedly ignored it, “but firstly.. how long have you been 21?” He queried, looking to Virgil with curiosity.

“First thing,” Virgil started, “utterly fuck you for indirectly quoting Twilight at me.” That managed to startle a laugh at Logan, which made Virgil practically preen with delight. “Second thing, I was turned like five years ago-” Logan gave him a surprised look, and Virgil raised a finger before he continued, clarifying.“- when I was 18.”

Logan hummed acknowledgingly, scribbling something down on the notepad and then responding with a curt, “so, if you had aged normally, you would be around 23 at the moment, correct?” Virgil gave a casual nod. He would say he was 23, honestly, but that was a technicality.

“Yup,” he said and then suddenly he was grinning, realizing he got to do something very funny, “which means I’m now the oldest in the apartment. Bitch.” He added and the satisfaction was so much he was a small bit worried he might manage to actually drown in it.

Logan gave him a look with wide, mortified eyes, and then groaned, head in his hands. “Out of all the things that could come out of this..” He said, seemingly half to himself and half to Virgil. Virgil snickered.

“Nah,” Virgil said playfully, “there are a lot of things worse than that, like not seeing the sun ever again - I promise you that, pocket protector,” he spoke without a single thought and then looked back over, cringing seeing the sudden pained look on Logan’s face. Shit. That was the worst thing he could’ve said, wasn’t it?

Virgil reached out, trying to think of something to say to make it better, but Logan waved him off, eyes focused on some invisible point in the middle distance. “Yeah, there is a lot worse,” he said under his breath, and Virgil wasn’t sure who exactly he was speaking too. “This is going to be horrible, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” Virgil answered honestly, “it’s going to really suck.” He reached out, starting to gently rub circles into Logans back. This time, he didn’t refuse the touch, instead just slightly leaning in to it. “You’ll survive though,” Virgil said, “I mean, I did and I’m a fucking wreck?”

Logan choked out a laugh at that, rubbing his face off before sitting back up, leaning away from Virgil’s touch again. “I’ll uh, keep that in mind.” He said with a small smile. After a second, he dropped back to a more serious tone, “whats.. next? What do we need to do now?”

Virgil sighed miserably, because he knew the answer and coincidentally fucking hated it. He hated every part of it with his whole being and how much of a trainwreck it would be. “Very fucking simple,” he said, annoyance already building as he pulled out his phone, and started dialing the number in.

“I have to call fucking Janus.”

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