#i'm excited for this next chapter but it's bittersweet for sure

[thepoisonroom]

getting ready to move out of my apartment after almost two years and i'm feeling SO sad but am trying to be brave 🥺

[reiderwriter]

♟️ Please, Let Me Know That It's Real ♟️

Chapter 10 of That's What You Get

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Emily and Penelope take care of you after Spencer's dishonesty comes to light. They help you fill in some missing pieces of the puzzle that is your relationship.

Warnings: angst, but hopeful angst. Spencer is an idiot. No, you don't find out who the other witness is yet.

A/N: We're so close to the end 😭 I'm feeling bittersweet about this one because I'm excited to wrap it up but I also don't want to!!! It's been so fun to write. There are two chapters left after this, so please stay tuned for those ♥️ You can find my main masterlist here, and my special kinktober masterlist here if you missed the smut in this one. My requests are open until the end of the month too, so of you had any ideas, let me know!

There were no words to describe how you felt wasting away in bed that next day. You couldn't say whether a minute passed, or an hour passed or if time had simply ceased when he'd left. You just knew that there was a weight pressing down into your heart, a grief filling your lungs and stuttering your breath. 

You had the vague sensation of someone entering your apartment, wrapping their arms around you and telling you that you'd be okay before you drifted off into a coma-like sleep. Instead of escaping everything, though, you had to relive it all, again and again. 

You'd woken up chained to that bed again and he was there telling you how guilty and horrible he felt, and you'd practically shoved the words into his mouth. But he hadn't told you he didn't remember. 

You'd woken up in his bed again, and he still wasn't there, trying to avoid you getting your memories back, the one thing you were trying to work towards together. 

You'd woken up in his arms, walking you back towards his bed as you were telling him you remembered. The gleam in his eyes though wasn't excitement, happy to receive any news about what could've happened before, but fear. What did you remember, and would you figure out he'd been lying? 

You'd woken up a mess, and you wanted to go right back to sleep. 

When you finally did come to, the tears that had dried against your skin began to Spring again, the sobs silently wrecking your body as you disappeared under the darkness of your comforter.

Spencer had known. He'd known the entire time about everything that had happened, he'd practically told you as much from the very beginning. But he'd also let you assume that he didn't, and you weren't sure if you were angrier at him or yourself. Something happened on your wedding night, beside the intimacy, that he obviously didn't want you to remember, having gone to such great lengths to hold you at an arm's distance away whilst embracing you tightly. Parts of your body still held traces of him, and you were too emotionally exhausted to drag yourself out of bed to wash him away.

You wanted to call him. You wanted to make him come back and explain, and beg for forgiveness, or tell you it had been some kind of horrific miscommunication. You wanted to never see him again. 

Penelope bought food, and Emily got you cleaned up, pulling you into the bathroom and wiping the tears from your face as she ran a bath for you, helping your shivering form into it. You hadn't called or texted either of them, but you didn't question their appearance until after you'd eaten, feeling a little less broken. 

"How did you know?" The two of them looked at each other over the food on the table, unable to hide the worrying glances they were sending each other. 

"Spencer. He texted me, asked me to check in on you." Penelope explained, and you're heart cracked hearing his name. 

"Of course he did." You hated that even when you were supposed to hate him, he was still intent on taking care of you. You'd excused yourself from their company and climbed back into bed, grateful that neither woman had tried to stop you. They did follow you though. 

"Wait, Y/N. Spencer told us you needed us, but he didn't tell us what happened. Maybe talking about it would help." They sat carefully on opposite edges of your bed, waiting for you to un-cocoon yourself and talk. 

The first few attempts, you couldn't make it, too close to shattering to pieces again. With a gentle squeeze of your hand and a encouraging nod, you started telling them about the night before. 

"I chased after him yesterday and I caught him in the parking lot. And he never takes his car, but he was there and I thought it was some kind of sign." You sniffled and pulled the quilt off your face some more, sitting up to continue what you knew would probably be a long story. 

"We finally acknowledged everything and… God, I think I told him I love him. I do, and that's why it's all so shitty and ruined." Your throat grew thick with the pain and fluttering, memories from the night before seeping into you and grabbing a hold. 

"I told him I remembered, finally. He asked me how much, and I just kept trying to flirt with him. I didn't realize anything was wrong until  after we'd…" You flushed, shy all of a sudden as you felt all the shame of the previous night's interactions. 

"He said some things in the heat of the moment… he said I felt better than he remembered." 

"Y/N, that doesn't sound so bad, that's just-" 

"He wasn't supposed to remember. Neither of us were supposed to remember, fuck I think we would've been happier if we hadn't." You shut your eyes, the lights suddenly sparking a pain behind your eyes as your tears stung. 

"He didn't forget anything about Vegas. I think maybe it's my fault for assuming he did, because he just went ahead and reminded me of his stupid fucking eidetic memory." 

You let your head fall back to the pillow again and curse yourself, the extended cut of the last three weeks flickering to life in your head again. 

"Y/N…" Penelope started taking a gentle hand and patting your head as she struggled to find the words to comfort you. 

"Y/N, this is not the end of the world." Emily was blunt in her words and for a second they snapped you out of your self imposed pity party. "I thought he'd rejected you, or served you divorce papers or something." 

The anger crept up in you quickly as you shut your ears to what Emily was saying. 

"God, Emily, it's not that fucking easy you know.

"How would you know? Did you try to listen to him? Ask him why he did it?" You snapped your mouth shut, still angry but momentarily softened to the words she was saying. 

"Look, it's not like he confessed his love for me. He fucked me and then I caught him in a lie." You were exasperated at having to explain your emotions again and again but this time the wound had been ripped raw. He hadn't said those last words. 

"Oh, sweetie. That's what this is all about, isn't it? You think he held back because he doesn't love you?" Emily's tone had softened completely and you found yourself suddenly shaking with tears, unable to answer, just nodding your head back and forth while you contained the loud echoes of pain from escaping your body. 

"I need to stop starting sentences with 'don't hate me, but', but this time I think it's absolutely necessary." Penelope squeaked the other words from your other side and you drew yourself up again to hear her out. 

"Penelope, you're here making sure I am still breathing while I'm in the middle of an entirely selfish crisis. I think if I even thought about you negatively, a puppy would die or something." 

"Save that bravado for after this." She pulled out her phone then and scrolled through it for a second, searching for something. "Now I need you to know that I only withheld this in the hopes that I could play it at your actual wedding, where I would obviously be maid-of-honour, but as that plan has backfired I think I need to show you it now." 

She handed you the phone, and you noticed a video was playing. The camera was shaky, so it took you a few minutes to figure out what it was you were looking at.

The Elvis impersonator was the thing that tipped you off to the fact that this was probably your wedding venue. Sure enough, when the camera focused, zoomed in a bit, there the two of you were. 

"We're going to do the ring exchange now, if you'd like to repeat after me-" discount, slightly rotund Elvis said in a horrendous accent, but he wasn't allowed to finish. 

"We can do our own vows, right? That's allowed?" 

"For the amount of money you're paying me, you could consummate the marriage right here and I wouldn't give a damn." Your past self in the video had flushed at that, and you were glad that you hadn't jumped at the chance the way you had in the hotel room. 

Spencer brushed it off, clearing his throat and starting again. “Y/N, I don’t remember when I started loving you, which is absolutely ironic because I remember everything else. I think I just woke up one day and knew that I’d either spend my life watching you, or take this final leap to have you. Don’t look at me like that, I’m being serious, we’re getting married.” 

Your grin was wide, genuine happiness setting you alight. The two of you giggled a little bit before a glare from Elvis's direction led you to believe that his generosity only extended so far. 

“Let me try again. What I’m trying to say is, you’re too good for me. And I love you so much it aches. Everytime you say anything I’m caught hanging on any word. Every time you mention a book you’ve enjoyed, I read it cover to cover 50 times that week. Every time you tell me something stupid, like what your favorite flower is, I get this overwhelming urge to… to buy myself some flowers, so that if you ever turned up at my house, they’d be there waiting for you.” 

“I don’t know if you’ll remember this in the morning, or if I’ll be too scared to remind you, but I love you Y/N. And I’ll keep loving you no matter what happens.” His hands were gripped so tightly around your waist that he'd had to whisper some of the last words into the air between you, the space suddenly so narrow. 

You stopped the video there, throwing the phone back at Penelope, ready to bask in your idiocy, but she didn't let you. 

"You need to watch it all, come on, mother knows best." You rolled your eyes at her and sat yourself straighter again, taking the phone from her again and pressing play as Emily looked over your shoulder, watching too. 

It was your turn for the vows. 

“Spencer Reid. If I don’t remember how much I love you now in the morning, if I somehow manage to ignore this absolute feeling of bliss and rightness, I need you to fight for me. I need you to remind me how much I love you. I need you to remind me how we ended up here. I need you. I’ll never stop needing you.” The video had ended seconds after that, Spencer having lunged for you with both hands pulling your lips into his as he sealed the deal with a kiss. One you could swear you still felt tingling against your lips. 

"I paused it there because I didn't want to see if you'd take Elvis up on his deal." You heard Penelope's words but didn't register them, not really. 

"He didn't… He didn't fight for me." Your words weren't sad, but they obviously weren't the words either woman was expecting. 

"Y/N, did you not hear him? He loves you!" Emily almost shook you to wake you up from whatever daze you were in, but you were throwing your sheets off in a second and scrambling out of bed. 

"He didn't even tell me. Oh my god… I'm going to…" You ran a stray hand through your hair as you let out an incredulous laugh, not believing any of the last twenty four hours. Your next move was to lunge for your own phone, dialing his number before you could be stopped. Penelope did try though, before Emily out a warning hand on her shoulder, interested to see where it was you were going with this. 

"Spencer," you said into the receiver when he finally picked up. A single ring and he was there like he'd been waiting for you this entire time. 

"Y/N, I love you, I'm sorry." The words caught in his throat and his voice was weak but they made your heart skip a beat nonetheless. You hoped none of that reflected in your voice at all. 

"Spencer, I want to see you. Now." He barely had time to agree before you were hanging up, turning around with a half manic laugh again as you begin pulling yourself together. 

"Emily, Pen, thank you for everything but-" 

"You don't have to explain, I think we were just leaving actually." Emily smiled up at you, confident that you knew what you were doing. 

"No, no wait, please explain! I need an explanation, Y/N, what-" 

"If you'll excuse us." Emily guided Penelope swiftly out of the door and you were suddenly once again alone in your apartment. 

Pulling yourself together. You'd had a bath but you still felt groggy, so you hopped in the shower and thought about the time Spencer had taken a bullet for you. It had really only grazed his vest, but he'd been the one to grab you and change your positions so you were safe nonetheless. He'd done it and you'd never been sure why. 

You sat and dried your hair and contemplated. He'd helped you with countless case files ove the years. The others had joked before by putting their work on his desk, knowing he'd have it completed for them, serious or not. He'd only ever voluntarily taken files from your desk though. He'd said it was because he could do them quicker, but that was always a none answer. 

You picked your outfit out carefully as you thought about all the times you'd woken up with a blanket covering you after a nap on the jet. You'd seen JJ wrap them around team members before and just assumed it had been her, but now you weren't so sure. 

You stood at the door looking down at a message that said he was almost here and you thought about the last few weeks. And you thought about how much he loved you, and how much you definitely loved him and you waited at the door, engagement ring sitting on your hand as you waited for him to knock. 

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[soap-ify]

mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds.

chapter summary — a fool and a coward, that's the realisation you had come to.

tags / cw — no smut, fluff, a bit domestic honestly, basically reader's drunk and simon takes care of you, bittersweet, simon opens up... a bit, angst, suicidal thoughts, very subtle religious references if they even count as one, simon's in denial and reader is on the verge of losing it all. [4k words]

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Simon had come to the conclusion that you were a snake, and your love was your poison. Maybe he really was a coward for being afraid to let your venom drown into his veins.

“Remind me to never take you out for drinking again.”

If it weren’t for Simon holding you carefully against him and walking through the street, you’d surely have collapsed on the ground all drunk and worse, thrown up by now.

It was a little mistake. One drink became two, and then three. You had forgotten about your tolerance, and here you were now. It’s all because of Simon. That’s what your excuse was, blaming it all on him. Which was true in all honesty, you had gotten too excited about this little hangout.

“You’ll never go out with me again?” Completely mishearing his words, you looked up at him with wide eyes, tears already approaching. Yeah, you were completely drunk. Simon froze, his heart tearing at the sight of your incoming tears, even if they were just due to your emotions being all over the place now. Emotions that had always been there, hidden deep within.

His first instinct was to ignore your words and just keep walking, his heart begging for him to comfort you. But again, how does a killer comfort an angel? How would the moon comfort the ocean, while being so far away?

“I didn’t say that.” He gruffly replied and continued to look ahead, not daring to meet your eyes anymore.

O Angel, let me fall on my knees, kiss your fingers, and weep for forgiveness. So you may hold my absolution, and make me man again.

“C’mon, we gotta take you home.” Simon internally cursed himself for not taking you both to the bar in a car. He hadn’t considered the possibility of you being a drunk mess. Do I ever consider anything?

“No!” Your loud whine echoed in the empty pavement, and he could barely hold in a chuckle, deciding to bite his bottom lip beneath his mask. “Can’t we spend more time together, Si?”

I’d spend a lifetime with you. But god forbid he ever said those words. Not to you, not to anyone. “S’not like m’gonna die or somethin’, or that you’ll never see me again.” Simon grumbled and tightened his hand around your waist, accommodating your wobbly body, guiding you.

Simon wished he could take your hands and sway around with you, let both of you move into a sweet dance, with the stars praising you. A performance for the cosmos. He wished he could hold you when you throw yourself over him, to let you never escape his embrace. Lovers forever tangled.

He wished.

He wondered what something like that even would look like. His dad never danced with his mother. He remembers his mother looking at him, holding in her tears and forcing a smile. “I promise your dad loves me, just as much as I love him. He's just… exhausted nowadays.” He wished his mother didn’t consider him a naive — a child.

Simon doesn’t think he was ever a child. A child is innocent, his very first cry was a sin.

“Simon?” Your voice snapped him out of the reminiscence he was trapped in. He let out a soft grunt, urging you to continue.

“Have you… Have you ever seen a ghost?” You burst into laughter at your own poor attempt at the joke, a rapid change of emotion, though in your defence, it’s definitely very funny. Your free hand tried to wipe the tears as you continued laughing, and Simon swore that this was truly the angels’ hymn eliciting from your mouth.

“Do I count?” He grinned behind his mask, the side of his eyes crinkling a bit. You quickly shook your head and stared at him with determined eyes, fully set on your question. “In that case, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, love. But if I do, I’ll make sure to tell ‘em you said hello.”

If it was someone else like Kyle or Johnny who would be laughing about this joke, Simon was sure that he would have said something snarky or just straight up ignored them. But not with you, never with you.

“You’re the best.” You beamed, his heart squeezed painfully.

“We’re almost there.”

Upon arriving at your apartment complex, he dropped you off outside your apartment’s front door, the only thing in mind being to flee quickly so your sweet smile doesn’t taunt him anymore. Though he simply couldn’t, your fingers not letting go off his forearm at all. Too exhausted to figure out if it was intentional or not, he sighed under his breath and turned over to face you, brown eyes having a slight shine in them due to the hallway’s light.

“C’mon, you gotta go in and rest.” He couldn’t figure out why his breathing was falling short. Was it the alcohol? He barely drank anything.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to not look up at him and meet his eyes, knowing that it would shut you up. Like the intimidating gaze of a god, a warrior. You had to speak your mind, had to know about something, to ease the storm in your head.

“Are you getting bored of me?” These words slipped out of your lips as a meek whisper, forbidden.

It was a sickening feeling that ensued within Simon after that, as if something was grabbing his heart and trying to rip it out of his chest. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly horrified him. Probably the fact that he knew what had caused you to think like that. The perfume.

O Angel, let me carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to you as an offering — apology. So may your hands embrace it and take me home, with thee. So may your fingers caress my cheek once again, and let my blood paint my skin.

“No.” He was embarrassingly quick to reply, fingers curling up into fists by his sides as he inhaled sharply. How could he put such thoughts into your head? How could I? Only a devil, the most evil being, could commit such atrocity.

You paused at his words, not knowing what else to say. No? Then why was that perfume there? You didn’t want him to think you were dumb enough to not notice that. “You’re lying…” Your voice cracked, and it was no longer the alcohol playing you like a puppet. It was you now. You felt like your own marionette. Stop speaking, fucking stop. “I am not dumb, Si. I saw that p-perfume on your couch the other day. Is that why you got mad at me?” God, stop talking please. “You could have just… said that you prefer other girls. Am I… Am I making a fucking fool out of myself here?” It terrified you, your own emotions terrified you. Your voice was rising just a bit, and all your feelings had their hands wrapped around your throat. Controlling you. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to say it out loud. You weren’t used to being so open about your mind, and now you felt like nothing but a cat shivering under the rain — alone and abandoned. Vulnerable, naked.

Maybe you and Simon weren’t so different after all. Vulnerability — just why did it terrify humans? Were the angels and the gods just as opposed to vulnerability?

“Oh, l-” Love. It almost slipped off his tongue, and he didn’t know if you even wanted him to call you that right now. The thought alone made him shudder uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do — stuck in between two roads. Should he lie? Or tell you the truth? — That it was just one time, a drunken act that is nothing but lamentable to him.

Why were you both even acting like an actual couple right now?

He swallowed the lump that threatened to torture his throat, exhaling softly. “I was drunk, and it happened. She probably left her perfume accidentally.” He spilled the truth out. Just the way a mature person would. Don’t be fucking daft, Riley. His eyes assessed the subtle twitch of your brows at that, your lips quivering. He wished he could just lean in and kiss all the tears away, despite them not having landed on your cheeks. Hopefully they won’t.

“Oh…” Your response was too short, unsure and reluctant. It made Simon feel as if he had sinned once again, chains threatening to drag him into the darkest depths of Hell. Home — the one he was familiar with.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your feet, your hand long having stopped holding his arm. Instead, your fingers were fiddling with one another anxiously. Why did you feel as if you were betrayed? A desperate cry for love, you wished you could say it to him. To his face, sob and scream about what you felt. He was the only one who understood, who was willing to understand. He was the only one who ever was, and who ever will be.

The agreement. It was no longer just fucking, it never was. Not since the day you saw him with Kyle, not since the day he talked with you after Kyle gestured at you. Never. Could he also see it all the way you did?

Your silence was a clear indicator of the fact that you were lost in your thoughts now. Simon’s eyes softened up, and before he could think rationally, his body reacted on its own and embraced you tightly against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Fuck…” He cussed under his breath, despising how his voice was thickening up with emotion. He hugged you like an old dog messily giving affection to its owner. My angel, my angel. I sinned, I have sinned. I am sorry.

He pulled you impossibly close, as if wanting to mold his body into yours, to become one. He could be with you forever in that way, to be your breathing and you his heartbeat.

You didn’t even feel confused at his rapid action at all. Just broken, so broken. He was the hammer that had finally hit the dam, and broke it. “W-Why?” Your voice wavered and mixed into a sob, your hands tightened holding onto him, fingers threatening to dig deeper as you let your head rest against him, tears tickling your skin. “I am so tired… So tired, Si. I hate you…”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hold tightened despite his words.

“No.” Your words came out a bit more forcefully than you had intended, too anxious to let him go. You felt his right hand leaving your back, a soft whimper leaving your lips once you felt his lips, bare and real, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, soon realising that he had taken his mask off. Too shy and messy in tears, you made no effort to look up at him and instead continued to cry, emotions desperate to keep pouring out and leave the imprisonment of your body. His hand continued to rub the back of your head while his other held your lower back, both of you unknowingly taking a few steps back and forth together, unable to stay still. It was as if you both were dancing slowly, like lovers.

“Alright. Hand me the keys, love.” You tentatively grabbed your keys from where you had kept it and handed it to him, your hands quickly latching onto him again. He carefully unlocked the front door of your apartment and led you inside, being extra cautious so he doesn’t accidentally step onto your feet. Closing the door by kicking it gently with one leg, he gently guided you towards the living room, easing you down onto the couch.

“Do you remember that creepy guy that came into the cafe?” Your voice was still shaky from crying, eyes all glossy as you finally looked at him, heart skipping a beat. Despite already having seen his face the last time, you still weren't used to it. Were you blessed?

He silently nodded and took a seat beside you, his arms leaving your sides so his large hands could cradle your face, thumbs tenderly wiping the drying up tears away while you talked, eyes looking everywhere but at him due to the sudden proximity. He didn't mind it at all, simply adored your sudden sheepishness.

“I still get scared at the thought of him… I don't want anyone like that to visit the cafe again. I-I don't think I can handle it.” Your voice gradually got quieter by the end, nibbling on your bottom lip. Oh, dear. Simon hadn’t told you that he had already beat that creep up. Now he somewhat wished that he had killed him instead. Surely Price would back him up if he made up some reason, yeah?

Your shoulders visibly eased up at that, your mind clearing a bit. Probably sobering up? You were sure that you weren't going to pick up a bottle of alcohol after this. Leaning into him, you decided to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Expecting a soft, calm rhythm — you were instead met with a fast thump, your brows furrowing though you decided not to comment on it.

“He wouldn't. No one will ever treat you like that again, love.” As long as I am here. Possessive yet guilty. He was vaguely promising to be by your side while always avoiding you, protecting you from himself. From the ugliness within him. No angel must spare a glance at a stray, especially not one used to violence.

His hands were playing with the fabric of your shirt now, mindlessly toying with it, feeling the texture under his skin as he gently tugged onto it. It felt oddly comforting, both of you not mentioning what happened outside the apartment a few minutes ago.

You looked up at him again, your eyes falling onto his lips this time. A bit chapped with a small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning forward to place a bashful kiss on top of it. Simon let out a soft grumble at that, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss your lips properly, eyes fluttering shut alongside yours. He could taste some hints of your salty tears, his hands holding your waist while your hands held the back of his neck, letting his lips devour yours.

He held onto you gently, not wanting to be tight despite every fiber within him wanting to hold you fully against him once more, like a hound too eager to please.

Once he pulled away from the kiss, his heart skipped at the sight of your lips being all glossy. Ethereal. Your lips twitched into a giddy smile, and he could swear that he felt the heat radiating off you once it crept up onto your face. It felt soft, everything felt too soft and warm. The gentleness threatened to suffocate him once more, a mocking reminder of him being undeserving of such tranquility. He was supposed to be wed to the war, to violence. To the bloodshed that haunted his dreams. Not whatever this was.

But he refused to get up, not wanting to see any more of your tears. “We have to get you to bed. You need sleep.” He spoke quietly, a soft sigh leaving his lips once he felt your forehead pressing against his, letting you lean into him.

“Will you join me?” You normally would have never asked something like that, but the way he was holding you almost made you believe that he was willing to warm up a bit more with you.

Simon frowned at that, pulling his head back slightly. “We can't, you're drunk.”

Realising that he misunderstood you, blood rushed to your cheeks and you looked away in embarrassment, your voice getting timid. “No… I meant sleeping together. Nothing else.”

He paused, eyes softening up as the implication dawned on him. Sleeping together. Innocently domestic — something you both had never touched. He wanted to reject, to say that it’d be better for him to just leave. That could have been the better option anyways. Though he couldn't bring himself to refuse you, too enamoured, as if trapped in some spell by you.

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue in a poor attempt to appear reluctant, masking his inner eagerness. Helping you off the couch, he led you towards the bathroom first, opening the tap. “Let's wash your face first, yeah?”

He did everything — getting you in comfortable pajamas once he finished helping you clean up, even helping you in preparing the bed. Everything. It made you feel as if you were cared for, as if he was the warmth you had ached for throughout your life. The felicity had long spreaded within you once you laid down on bed, watching him lay down beside you.

He was tense, visibly so. You tentatively scooted towards him, a hand reaching out to settle onto his chest, to feel his heartbeat once again. Maybe in this way, you could sync your heart with his, build your own little bubble. Or was that too much to hope for?

“Thank you…” It just slipped out of your mouth like a soft prayer — a hidden whisper to be close to him so more.

“S'nothing.” His eyes looked over at you, taking in the contentment etched onto your face. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you against him, to let you melt in his embrace while you slept. No. That's too much, that's crossing a line. A line made up in his head.

You're building your own grave, Simon. He despised his own mind for mocking him like this, for littering his head with unwanted thoughts. Just one night.

“Sleep now, love.” He whispered quietly, watching you reach over to turn the lamp off. You shuffled besides him again, letting the blanket cover you up.

Simon doesn’t remember the last time he had slept so nicely, your soft breathing his lullaby.

Upon waking up alone on your bed, a heavy feeling of dread settled on you alongside a throbbint headache. Had he left? Wasn't it just getting better?

Holding your heart together from cracking it with every strength you had, you tried to take a few deep breaths. Don’t panic, don't-

The sudden clinking sound from outside your bedroom made you jolt, and only now could you notice the pleasant aroma of something cooking. Sheepishly, you slid off the bed and tiptoed over to the door, poking your head out to look around. Able to make out some of Simon's figure through the open door of the kitchen, relief flooded deep within you. He's here.

“Good morning, Si…” You greeted him once you entered the kitchen, standing besides him, rubbing the weariness off your eyes. He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, focusing on cooking some breakfast.

“Your whole kitchen needs some restocking.” He mumbled, sparing a small glance over at you. You stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by his observance. You were planning on restocking it soon, anyways.

The morning went by like a pleasant breeze, your mood ever so joyous today. You felt light, as if floating on the clouds and reaching the stars, as if becoming one of them, alongside Simon. He hadn't mentioned much about last night at all, even gave you some pills and an offer for a head massage. You had declined it, mostly because you didn't want to show how greatly affected you were by the subtle signs of care laced in his actions, despite it being already evident all over you.

You didn't know what had driven you to act in the way you did in the afternoon. Maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth, just kept it shut and complied.

“Si, I um… I want to talk to you about something.” You paused the monotonous movie literally none of you were actually focusing on, turning over the couch to face him, your fingers tightly curled on your lap, digging into your flesh.

Maybe it was just your heart acting out, feeling as if things had changed. Foolishly clinging onto the thin strong of hope, never learning. Never learning that touching stray dogs was bad, they had fleas. Fleas that had already infected you, threatening to devour you.

“I think… Uh- I was wondering- I just-” Fumbling over your words, all you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart, each nerve of yours set on fire. Anxious, too anxious. You wanted to throw up. “I wanted to tell you that I really… like you, and-” Your words drowned into heavy silence once you took note of just how silent Simon was, how he was frowning.

A fool. A fool who dreamt too much, who was too lost amidst the heavenly clouds of tranquility. A fool who did everything to avoid reality — that's what you felt like.

“No.” His reply was rather abrupt, clear. The subtle smile on your lips fell, and Simon wished to do nothing more than drown into a river. “You don't like me.”

“I-I do!” Unbelievable, did he not believe that you like him? Even love him.

“You shouldn't.” That came out more roughly than he had intended to, a little snarl escaping his throat. “We've already discussed it, this is nothing.’

You should have shut up at that, should have somehow sewed your lips together and quieted down. You couldn't, instead growing more agitated, more on edge. “You can't say that, Si! D-Don't you see whatever it is that we're doing?” You whimpered in exasperation, trying to keep your voice from trembling, miserably failing. “I care for you! I do, and you care for me too. I can see it…” Vision progressively growing blurrier with incoming tears, you looked away and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes, your breath shuddering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon was at a loss of words himself, his heart aching to kiss your tears away and plead for forgiveness. He was a cruel, cruel man. Cruel for being so terrified, cruel for being so persistent.

O Angel, forgive me for I can't let you love me, for light should never kiss the shadow.

“You shouldn't…” He repeated his words again, his voice quieter, weaker. A plea, a request. You shook your head, a sob erupting from your throat as you tried to reach out for him.

He pulled away just as quick, your hand never meeting his. An ocean that could never touch the moon, a man that could never touch a star.

“I need to leave.” Hastily he turned around and walked out of your apartment, leaving you speechless, hand still shamefully held out. Frozen and alone, unloved.

Simon Riley was a coward.

Simon had lost count of how many bottles he had drank by now. Feeling horribly, horribly similar to his father. A drunkard, disgusting. He thought the alcohol could wash his emotions away, drown them hopefully — all it did was make him even more vulnerable, his glossy eyes staring off at a distance.

Weak. Ironically enough, this brute was nothing but weak. Everyone should be laughing at him, you should be laughing at him. Laugh at him for not knowing how to love properly, for being so quick to run away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, making him click his tongue in irritation that soon melted away once he noticed the caller ID.

Price.

He picked it up and listened to his captain's words, each syllable both a stab and a blessing.

A deployment again, finally.

notes — i apologise for uploading it after A WHOLE MONTH. blaming it on the writerphew, a deployment! this could mean many things. also a heads up that either chapter 6 or chapter 7 will be the last one (made some changes to my plan!)

[allthesethingswillendsoon]

Long, long time

CHAPTER TWO: Over the years

SUMMARY: Follows the girls over three important moments in their childhood; A bittersweet first day of elementary school, a wholesome Heroes Day assembly, and a run in with a nasty bully.

NOTE: Well it turns out I lied and took like 5 weeks to post this chapter instead of one week like I had said, but hey that's life I guess? This chapter is the second last chapter of them before middle school when they'll start to come into their own more I think. This chapter is like three mini stories over the course of elementary school. I'm not sure why I didn't do another story in fourth or fifth grade, but the next chapter will be at the end of fifth grade/beginning of sixth grade so I guess I'll just do a bit about that then. i don't think this was worth the wait but I hope everyone enjoys. And also big thanks for the support :)

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Warnings: Mentions of parent leaving, homophobia, tiny bit of violence 3k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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2nd OF SEPTEMBER, 2008

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

As Bob fitted Paige’s backpack onto her, he couldn’t help the way his heart ached. Every parenting class and book had described the first day of school as one of the most important and integral days in a child’s life, and Paige was a parent down.

How would this affect her? Would she feel less-than going into school without a mom? Will she forever look back on this day and mourn the perfect, all-American family she was denied?

On the other, less all-consuming, hand, he couldn’t help letting out a chuckle at the sight of her comically large bag in comparison to her gangly self.

“Daaaaad, I’m scared, what do you even do in school?” Paige questioned as she held her bottom lip between her teeth.

Amy sure would be helpful right now.

Bob kneels down to face her and brings his hands up to her shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze, “Honey, it’ll be alright, it’s the first day, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?” She whispered, eyes watering and bottom lip quivering with the words.

“Yeah honey, I promise.” He soothed, linking his pinky with her tiny one.

He stood up and grabbed his car keys, leading them to the front door. “Besides, you know who we have to go meet?”

Paige’s whole demeanour changed, a glittering smile covering her face, eyes lit up. “Azzi! Azzi!”

“Yeah, Azzi, Katie, and Tim.” He smiled as they made their way through the front yard and into their car. From across the street they waved to the Fudd’s, Paige and Azzi both jumping with excitement as they threw their hands into the air.

Bob buckled Paige into her booster seat and climbed into the front, turning the car on. The Fudd’s pulled out of their driveway and Bob followed. He turned the radio up, letting whatever song was popular fill the air in the car as Paige looked out the window.

—------------------------

Laughter echoed through the orange walls of 1B as the children found their seats and said their goodbyes to their parents, not without a few tears. Both Paige and Azzi were nervous to leave their parents yet knowing that they had each other soothed them both.

The classroom was set up in rows of twos, and to their absolute delight Paige and Azzi had been placed next to each other in the front-side corner.

“Okay girls,” Katie started, “I think it’s time we let you start your day.”

Azzi flung herself into the bodies of her parents, Bob leant down to pick Paige up and hug her half to death.

“Dad! Stop it! Let me down!” Paige giggled, hitting her dad across the chest with her tiny fists.

“Ugh, alright, if I must!” He sighed dramatically, setting her down on the ground. 

He wished he could have erased the look on Paige’s face as he caught her staring at Azzi with her mom and dad. She spent a second staring at them, the look on her face almost indecipherable, before turning around and hugging her dad.

Bob had reached the point where he could go a day or two without thinking of Amy, and it was great, to be able to fully focus on Paige, without getting caught up in what they had lost. Then they’d see a happy family, with a mom and a dad, and his entire world would fall down around him as he witnessed Paige yearning from afar.

From his peripheral vision he could see Azzi detaching from her parents and coming over to walk with Paige to their desks.

“I love you honey, I’ll see you this afternoon.” He said, planting a kiss on her cheek before turning to leave with Katie and Tim.

—------------------------

23rd of MAY, 2010

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

If Bob Bueckers was gifted at one thing, that one thing was building (and being the best dad in the world if you asked Paige). He was as handy as they came, building anything from treehouses to hospitals with such ease you would think he was born with a toolbelt on. When he was fifteen he left school to work with his father building houses, who worked with his father building houses, who worked with his father building houses, and so on. Then, when his father got too old and, albeit begrudgingly, retired from the trade, Bob took over the family business.

So, despite the countless hardships the universe had so eagerly forced upon Bob, they did graciously throw him one bone. In July of 2010, just as Bob was finalising the sale of his family business, the same could be said for the resident family builders of Oakridge, Virginia, who had decided to sell their business and retire in the French countryside. A win for everyone, Bob was able to swoop in and fill the perfectly-Bob-shaped gap they had left in the Oakridge development industry, and lucky for him, the area was experiencing major improvements. Everything from schools, to housing developments, to shopping centres were needed, and Bob was sure to cover them.

—------------------------

The chatter of the excited children and their parents echoed through the bright coloured corridors of the elementary school. It was the most highly anticipated day of the school year for the second grade classes, it was hero day! 

On hero day the children were allowed to dress up as their hero -whoever they might be- and explain who they were and why to the whole school, and any parents there as well.

Paige and Azzi had been bouncing off the walls with excitement for weeks on end leading up to the event.

Paige’s hero was one she kept a tight lipped secret. Every time Bob attempted to ask her she would shut it down immediately, all the while having the most mischievous grin on her face as though she was planning on dressing up as a criminal or a crack addict.

It was only when he asked her if he could at least help her put together her costume that he gained an idea as to what she might be. 

She told him that she had ”already gotten everything I need, silly dad!”. Later that afternoon, when he went into his shed and found his favourite hardhat and high-vis vest missing he couldn’t help but smile.

Azzi on the other hand had been incessantly chatting about her hero, Miss Honey. Ever since watching Matilda she had become utterly enamoured with her, so much so she decided she wanted to be an elementary school teacher when she grew up.

—------------------------

The kids were brought through the assembly hall in their class lines, waving and smiling at their parents as they passed by. 

The principal gave a short introduction, knowing the kids had the attention span of a goldfish, and the parents just cared about seeing their kids be their adorable selves.

They went in alphabetical order, meaning there were only twelve or so kids before the roll got to ‘B’ for Bueckers.

Paige shuffled up to the microphone in her comically oversized hard-hat and high vis, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. With a little adjustment to the height of the mic stand she nervously started.

“‘My hero… My hero is my dad because he’s the strongest person I’ve ever met in my whole life and I love him the most because he is so awesome.” A chorus of ‘awwws’ sounding out amongst the crowd at the earnest and honest display of affection.

She went to leave before spinning around quickly, mumbling one last sentence into the microphone before scooting off stage, “Oh, and I’m gonna build houses with him one day.”

Bob stood out of his seat cheering and whooping for her with Tim and Katie clapping from their seats.

It was days like that when he could almost feel the gap Amy left closing, just in the slightest. It made his heart beam, to feel like he really could be enough for Paige, that he could give her everything she wanted and more.

After thirty-ish more students, it was Azzi’s turn. As she stood at the microphone adorned in her floral dress and pink cardigan, flowers and ‘Matilda’ book clutched in her hands, the nerves she was previously lacking came crashing down onto her.

She stood at the microphone, little body trembling as she stuttered, “M-m-miss Honey f-f-from Matilda is my h-h-hero. I… I want to be a teacher… just like her.”

Happy enough with what she said, she turned to exit the stage but dropped her book as she did so. She grabbed it, went back to the microphone, simply said “Oops”, before skipping off stage, seemingly very happy with herself.

The crowd had laughed at the young girl’s antics and Paige had given her a high five as she skipped by.

—------------------------

Paige and Azzi were chattering to themselves when they noticed their parents.

Paige immediately broke off into a sprint, flinging herself into her dad’s arms.

“That’s my girl!” He boasted, pulling off her hat while rustling her hair.

“Daaaaaaad stopppp it!” Paige giggled, the massive grin on her face saying that she wanted otherwise.

“Nuh-uh I’m your hero! You can’t stop me!” He exclaimed, holding her up in the air as she squealed.

When he finally put her down, he decided it was of the utmost importance that they got a picture together on such a monumental day. He picked her up once more and held her on his hip, their faces as near to identical as possible, Bob’s smile practically copied and pasted onto Paige’s face.

Paige and Azzi then begged for their own photoshoot where they pulled as many poses as humanly possible, reading ‘Matilda’, flexing their non-existent muscles, and hugging each other as tight as they could.

—------------------------

A few days later Bob had lost count of all the copies he had of his picture with Paige, he had put it everywhere, in his wallet, on the fridge, on the mantle, on his desk at work. 

The two young girls also printed out the picture of them hugging, both putting it in purple and pink picture frames in their rooms. Every time Paige or Azzi had guests they were always sure to point to the picture of their “BFFAAFATF” (Best friend forever and always, for all time, forever).

17th OF FEBRUARY, 2011

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

It had been nearly three years since Paige and Azzi met and became best friends, in that short time they had grown closer with each other, faster than what seemed humanly possible. Their parents loved it, living on the same street made play dates and favors easy. Both the kids were growing up to be kind and generous young girls so neither family had an issue with having them around. Excluding the occasional ruckus the two would cause, they were largely well behaved. Their families adored their friendship and understood why the two liked each other, being able to see the way they were similar, and the ways their differences complement each other’s personality.

The same, however, could not be said for a certain boy named Jacob, who had been in their class every year since they started school. He was renowned amongst the teachers, kids, and parents for his vicious mean streak; the teachers and parents also knew that he had bounced from foster home to foster home for the large majority of his life, his parents both locked up for various counts of substance abuse and aggravated assault.

Since the beginning of third grade in the previous september, Jacob had begun to target Paige and Azzi, teasing and mocking them relentlessly for their close relationship for a reason unbeknownst to the girls.

Paige and Azzi had faced the comments off for months and months on end, letting the slew of nasty comments pass them by. It was the same thing every time, some variation of, ‘Why are you guys holding hands? Ew!’ And every time they’d brush it off confused as to why he’d make those comments, but unbothered enough to let it go.

That was until Azzi went home and regaled her parents with stories from her day at school, one of which being the comment of the day from Jacob. Although they didn’t show their shock and anger at the treatment Azzi and Paige were receiving on their faces, under the dinner table they nudged legs and knew to talk about it later.

Subsequently they headed to the Buecker’s house with Azzi and talked about the situation in hushed tones as the girls played in the snow outside. Upon talking they decided to tell their teacher Miss Hedge about it, who assured them the situation would be dealt with promptly and with great importance.

—------------------------

As the end of February approached, the Virginia snow had begun to defrost, turning the ground to a mix of grass and sludge, a well-known enemy to all Oakridge residents. The only positive to the situation was that the children were allowed to spend their play breaks outside, as opposed to staying inside.

Paige and Azzi were on the swings, battling out to see who could go faster and higher. Usually they would fight on who won, but sometimes, despite knowing she obviously was the winner, Paige would let Azzi declare herself as the victor, just to put a smile on her face.

After minutes of intense battling, the sound of the school bell cut through the chatter of the children, signifying the end of the break.

Paige hopped off her swing waiting patiently for Azzi to hop off hers. Just as she was about to, her hair clip fell on the ground. 

With a dramatic sigh she jumped off and ducked down to grab her hair clip, but as she came up she was met with the seat of the swing slamming directly at the centre of her face, knocking her to the ground in the process.

Pain shot through her head, tears welling in her eyes before flooding down her face.

Paige went into panic mode, never having seen her best friend this distressed through their near three years of friendship. “What can I do to make it better Az? I’ll do anything, I just want you to feel better” Paige pleaded, coming to sit down next to Azzi.

“Anything?” Azzi questioned, her big, watery, brown eyes boring into Paige’s.

“Yeah, anything Azzi, just wanna make you happy.”

The younger girl pointed to her forehead, the bruise forming underneath the skin beginning to rear its yellow-purple head. “Can you kiss it better? Please?” 

Azzi’s request lingered in the air before Paige nodded, gently brushing a strand of hair out of the way, before brushing her lips against the tender skin for a few seconds.

“Better Az?” Paige questioned softly, eyes full of concern for the younger girl.

“Much better! Thanks Paigey!” Azzi smiled, pulling Paige in for a hug.

Paige let out a sigh of relief, she couldn’t bear the thought of Azzi being in pain, and she was just so glad that she was able to take the pain away, if only for a little bit.

They stood up to head back inside, both feeling the cold seep into their skin from sitting down in the sludge.

As they walked back inside, an all too familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Which of you was it?” Jacob spat, looking down on them.

“Which of us did what?” Azzi questioned, confusion covering both of the girl’s faces.

“Which one of you lied to Miss Hedge that I was bullying you both?”

“Neither of us did that, Jacob.” Paige responded, slightly anxious as to where the conversation was heading.

“You’re lying! You probably both went together and told her, cause you’re both just so lesbian-y all the time!” Jacob retorted, voice nearing a yell.

“We didn’t Jacob!“ replied, trying desperately to end the quickly escalating conversation.

Yet it only infuriates him more, his face growing redder and redder, hands curling up into fists at his side. “Yes. You. Did. One of you snitched, and now I’m in trouble with my foster parents!”

Paige moved in front of Azzi, trying to shield her as Jacob approached.

“It’s. All. Your. FAULT” His fingers jabbed at Paige’s shoulder with growing intensity each word he said.

“Just leave us alone!” Paige yelled back, grabbing Azzi’s arm, turning to leave.

Before they were able to do so Jacob was yanking on both of their ponytails with such force it sent them to the ground. At that same moment, Miss Hedge appeared in the hallway in search of her three missing students.

“Jacob! What are you doing? Get here! Right NOW!” Her shrill voice cut through the soft sounds of the girl’s sniffling, and Jacob’s huffing.

He trudged down the hall to the teacher, who called out to them, “Paige, Azzi, you girls just stay there, I’ll take him to the office and come back right away.”

They turned and looked at each other, bleary blue eyes into blurry brown ones. It hadn’t hit them yet, but the event moments prior would haunt the two as they grew into their own. It would haunt them as they struggled to deal with the way they felt about themselves and the way they felt about the feelings they had for the other.

But in that moment as they hugged on the floor and let their tears drip into the other’s shoulder, it just mattered that they had been through it together.

—------------------------

NOTE: Hope you guys enjoyed this one more than I did. Next chapter will come a lot quicker than this one (I hope)

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.6

Chapter Summary: You arrive at Ellie's family's house, but it's not what you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, mentions of child abuse (not SA), mentions of slavery, angst

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie was quiet the next morning, picking slowly at her granola bar and bent over, staring at her book. It was the day you expected to arrive at her aunt and uncle's house, and you had a hunch she was feeling bittersweet about it. When you woke up, you had a pit in your stomach that you assumed had something to the conversation you had with Joel the night before, but as the morning wore on, you realized there was a different reason. You weren't ready to let Ellie go.

"Hey," you said, nudging her knee so she would look up. "You excited to see your family?"

"I guess," she said with a shrug. Joel appeared to only be half listening as he nursed his coffee across from you.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see you," you replied. "They probably don't even know you're alive. You said you were taken from their house, right?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "After my parents died, they took me in. I can't really remember much, but I know it was nighttime and I had a bag over my head, but I don't remember them breaking into the house, I must've been asleep."

"And it was the Fireflies who took you?" you asked.

"I'm not sure. It wasn't Marlene's group, if it was. There was more of us, they kept us all in this gross basement or something. No one could tell where we were, and whenever they moved us, they had the bags over our heads."

"Jesus," Joel muttered to himself with a shake of his head.

"How do you know it wasn't Marlene?" you asked gently, curious to learn more, but worried about upsetting her.

"Because after a few months, they took me and a couple others to Marlene's camp. She never made us wear the bags," Ellie explained.

"They hurt you?" Joel asked. His eyebrows were pinched as if he were bracing himself.

"A little," she admitted quietly. Your gaze dropped down to your hands, trying not to show her the emotion on your face. "They'd hit us if we weren't working fast enough, or trip us just for fun, I guess."

"I'm so sorry, Ellie," you whispered, reaching out a hand to place on her knee.

You exchanged a pained look with Joel before dropping the subject. At least she was going back home. She might not be excited yet, but you were willing to bet she would be once she saw her family again.

"We're doing the right thing," you murmured to him when you were out of earshot as Ellie packed up her belongings. "I know you weren't on board with this at first, but we're giving her a chance at a decent life."

"Second we get back I'm tellin' Tommy we are cuttin' all ties with these people," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care what they got to offer."

You nodded, feeling the anger rolling off of him as he aggressively folded up his sleeping bag. You grabbed your pack and kicked dirt over what little fire remained, snuffing out the embers before reviewing the map once more.

Thankfully, her family didn't live within the city itself. Cities were heavily populated, which meant more risk of infected, soldiers, or hostile people. You tended to avoid them at all costs. They lived in a small town outside of the city called Morristown, which didn't have much outside of a post office, a school, and a fire department. The residential homes were built far apart from each other, scattered and disorganized. You got the feeling that people who used to live in this town knew everyone's business, it was so tiny. And you also had the feeling these were the types of people that shot first and asked questions later, given the extent it appeared they went for privacy.

"That's my school!" Ellie said excitedly, pointing down the street. Joel was focused on the map, trying to find the way to Spirit Drive, but you twisted your head so you could see the building she pointed out in the distance.

"That's cool, Ellie," you said warmly, happy to see she finally had a small smile on her face. "What was your favorite subject?"

She went on to tell you about her art class and a teacher she adored, and all the while you stared at her, listening to her stories while your heart ached. You imagined her in that school, with her friends, playing sports, eating lunch, and something inside you burned. It almost felt like jealousy, but that didn't make sense. It was a feeling you couldn't put your finger on, but you thought you knew what it was when you turned down her street, swallowing the lump in your throat when the realization set in that you were minutes away from never seeing her again.

"This the place?" Joel asked Ellie, squinting his eyes between her and the map. The house didn't look like much. It was a small, brick ranch with a long, gravel driveway that led up to a dilapidated grey barn. The hinges on the storm door to the front house were originally black, but now orange with rust. White paint chipped from the door in long strips, and the front garden was long abandoned and overgrown.

"Yeah," she said, looking at the barn.

"Do you think they're still here?" you asked, a flicker of hope igniting in you. Maybe if they weren't here, you could convince Joel to take her back to Jackson.

"Oh, yeah. They're here," she said confidently. You both glanced down at her.

"How're you so sure?" Joel asked, and she tilted her chin up towards the corner of the house. You both followed her gaze, noticing the cameras for the first time. They were small, it was no wonder you missed them, but they were there and definitely working. You could see a little red light flashing in the lens when the camera swooped across the lawn and over the driveway, where you all stood.

Joel slowly flicked his eyes around the house, counting at least seven cameras that he could see from his position. Then his gaze traveled to the barn, where he thought he could make out at least five more.

"How in the hell did you get taken from this place with all these cameras?" he asked. She didn't reply, and he wasn't really expecting an answer.

"So, what do we do?" you asked Joel quietly. "Do we just go up and knock?"

Joel twisted around to glance at Ellie, but she wasn't paying attention. She fidgeted her fingers inside her long sleeves as she stared out across the wide open dusty, dirty land the house was built on.

"I'll go up and knock, you two stay back," he decided, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck before venturing further down the driveway. The sun was blazing, even more so in the desert with little to no shade. You couldn't imagine how uncomfortable Ellie must have been in her long sleeves.

"That's far enough!" a man's voice rang out. Joel stopped dead in his tracks, whipping his head around to try to locate the source. Then he saw movement. An older man with a scraggly grey beard and balding head emerged from the barn, aiming a rifle right at Joel. He held his hands up in the air, showing from a distance that he meant no harm.

"Is that your uncle?" you whispered, holding your hands up as well.

"Yeah, that's Uncle Dave," she said, but she seemed unbothered by the threat. In fact, she shoved her hands in her pockets as she waited for him to approach.

"We aren't lookin' for trouble," Joel called out as Dave slowly made his way closer, his eyes transfixed on Joel. "We're here-"

"Toss your weapons on the ground!" Dave ordered, readjusting his grip on his rifle.

"Okay," Joel said, nodding, and slowly reached around to pluck the handgun from the back of his pants with two fingers. He held it up and gently tossed it on the ground in front of him.

"You too, missy," Dave said without even looking at you. You followed suit, slowly removing your gun and tossing it on the ground at your side. When you were no longer armed, Dave relaxed a bit, letting his shoulder drop but still aiming the rifle at Joel's chest. He finally allowed his gaze to drift behind Joel, looking briefly at you before his eyes landed on Ellie. He hesitated and swallowed roughly before forcing out a harsh chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Junebug! Get out here, you ain't never gonna believe this!"

A rounder woman with glasses and tight curly blonde hair emerged from the barn behind Dave, a scowl painting her features as she walked forward, aiming a revolver at Joel. When she looked over and noticed Ellie, her expression changed. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she let her gun fall to her side.

"Ellie!" the woman cried out, trotting clumsily down the driveway towards you. You looked down at Ellie, expecting her to finally show some excitement, but she only offered them a pained smile.

"Hiya, Aunt June," Ellie said before being enveloped in a huge bear hug.

"Oh, my sweet girl! I thought I would never see you again," June said with tears in her eyes. Dave watched the two reunite from his position in front of Joel, the rifle now slung over his shoulder.

Ellie stepped back and introduced you and Joel to her family. She explained you were helping her and keeping her safe, and the two adults began to warm up to you after that.

"Please, why don't you stay the night?" June offered. "We'll make you dinner and give you a warm bed, it's the least we could do." Ellie turned to you and nodded, a genuine smile finally spreading across her face.

You felt Joel hesitate next to you, but you quickly accepted her offer, not ready to leave Ellie just yet. He gave you a sideways glance before giving June and Dave a tight smile and followed them into the house, only after picking up your weapons from the ground.

The inside of the house matched the outside. It was well lived in and dated, but it was clean. You glanced around the living room, noticing there didn't seem to be any family pictures around, just landscape art and a clock on the wall.

June gave you a brief tour of the small house and showed you their spare bedroom, where you and Joel left your backpacks.

"Why don't you help me in the kitchen, dear, and leave the men to their own devices," June said, her pink cheeks pinching into a smile. You looked at Joel, trying to read his expression. He gave you a quick nod, confirming he was comfortable with being separated, and you returned her smile.

"That sounds great," you told her.

Dave led Joel down into the basement, explaining along the way that he would be 'blown away' by his set up down there. Ellie had mentioned they were preppers, and based on the cameras, you had to assume the basement was remodeled to be a safe room or a bunker.

You helped June chop up vegetables while she kneaded dough to make chicken pot pie. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a home cooked meal.

"We've been traveling for over a week, eating mostly trail mix and rabbit. This will be wonderful, thank you so much," you told her.

"Of course, dear. It's no trouble at all. Ellie!" June called out. Ellie came around the corner, her sketch pad hanging limply at her side.

"C'mon, girl, you forget how to help out around here?" June asked, her brows furrowed for a moment before she realized how harsh she sounded. She turned to you and laughed, her features relaxed again. "Kids, you know?"

You smiled and looked back at Ellie to gauge her reaction. She seemed quiet and closed off, but you brushed it off, chalking it up to the long day.

June held out a butcher knife to her, and Ellie hesitated, her eyes flicking from her aunt to the knife.

"Auntie, please don't make me," she said, eyes wide.

"You know the rules, don't tell me you forgot now," she replied lowly. Ellie reached out a shaky hand to pick up the knife.

"What is this?" you asked, putting your hand out to stop her.

"Well, we need chicken for the chicken pot pie, don't we now?" June said sweetly, and you were beginning to feel like that ruddy smile of hers was a little fake.

"I'll do it," you said, stepping in front of Ellie, hand outstretched for the knife.

"Now, I appreciate the offer, dear, but Ellie understands it's part of her chores, right?" she said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. She nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the floor.

"She can chop the vegetables and I'll take care of the chicken," you told her, your tone becoming more insistent.

June's watery eyes wavered between you and Ellie as she weighed her options. You glanced down at the butcher knife in her red, flour covered hands, then looked back at her.

"I insist," you said darkly, dropping the fake pleasantries. June's gaze dragged up to remain locked on you.

"Girl's gotta learn to be comfortable with killing," she replied, but you reached out and snatched the knife from her grip before she had a chance to blink.

"That's alright, I could use some practice, myself," you told her, refusing to break eye contact.

The tension in the room was thick, even Ellie was shifting her weight, trying to make herself as small as possible. You waited for June to try to argue with you again or say something to Ellie that didn't sit right, but it never came. As if storm clouds passed, her eyes cleared up and she blinked at you, a smile spreading across her flushed cheeks.

"Well, then," she said, dusting her hands on her apron. "Coop's out back. Suppose we should thank our guest, right Ellie?" June said, raising an eyebrow at the girl. Ellie nodded and looked up at you.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"No problem, kid," you muttered, giving June one last glance before heading out the back door.

"This here's an AK-47, got maybe six of these fuckers," Dave said, his fingertips grazing the weapon on the wall as he passed. "Just about anything you can think of, I probably got two of 'em."

For someone who hoarded weapons in an underground bunker, Joel would have thought the man would be a little more subtle. A little less eager to show a complete stranger his entire stash. But then again, men like Dave loved to show off. If they couldn't boast about it, then what was the point?

"Real nice set up you got here," Joel murmured, knowing the man was waiting for a compliment. Dave's chest puffed with pride before he opened a sliding door in the back of the basement, revealing a small room filled with different sized monitors, cameras all cycling through the different angles he had covering his property. Joel was wrong: he had way more than just the cameras he saw. They rotated to different views all around the outside of the house. He noticed the only cameras that were monitoring indoors were in the barn where he saw an old John Deere tractor and a pickup truck flash on the screen.

"Jesus," Joel whispered, taking a step forward, but still not entering the small room. "How the hell you manage to watch these all the time?"

"Ah," Dave said proudly, tapping his finger against his temple. "I got motion alerts. Sends out an alarm when I'm sleeping or taking a shit or whatever. Gets annoying, though. Mostly just birds or other animals, so I turn it off during the day. But sometimes... sometimes I get something good."

"Like us?" Joel said, and Dave laughed.

"Yeah... yep, exactly like you," he replied, trailing off as he stared at Joel.

"Y'know," Dave said after a moment, stepping back to shut the door. "There's folks around here who pay good money for things, if you're ever in the market to buy or sell."

"We don't got much, but we're doin' just fine," Joel said, beginning to feel uneasy.

"Nah, see, that's where you're wrong, friend," Dave replied, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing one to Joel. "You do got somethin'."

Joel held the glass tightly, bringing it up to his lips and pretending to take a sip before setting it down. Something told him he should keep his wits about him. He raised his eyebrows at Dave, waiting for him to continue.

"That girl with you up there," he began, and Joel felt his stomach twist at the mention of you. "She would fetch you a fair price with the folks I know."

Joel froze, doing his damndest to not let his emotions show. The pieces were starting to click. He clenched his jaw and swallowed lightly before taking a deep breath.

"That right?" he replied, urging him to continue. He needed to get back upstairs, for the first time realizing you all might be in danger.

"Hell yeah. Medicine, food, weapons. I'm sure of it," he said with a click of his tongue. "I make one radio call and they could be here in two days."

"Hm," Joel replied, clenching his fists behind his back. "Lemme think on it, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," he said with a wave. "Don't think too long, though. One day, someone'll take her. It's just a matter of if you get to benefit from it or not, you get me?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Yeah," Joel said. "I get you."

Joel decided you weren't leaving his sight. He was relieved when June called down, letting them know dinner was ready, so he could make sure you were okay without making an excuse to leave and raise suspicion. A man like Dave with a whole arsenal at his disposal wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with. He had to be careful.

A cynical part of him wondered if he should be worried about the food, but he knew you helped prepare it. You were smart, you would have noticed if something was going on.

But when he climbed the stairs and locked eyes with you, he knew something was wrong. You didn't show it, but he could tell by the way your smile didn't reach your eyes.

He settled down at the table as you and June scooped out the meal on everyone's your plates while Ellie silently brought everyone glasses of water. When she set Joel's down, he tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn't look at him.

"Ellie, why don't you get Joel 'n me whiskies. You ladies want anything stronger?" Dave asked, tucking his napkin into his shirt. You shook your head and politely declined as you took your seat next to Joel, your knee purposely knocking against his under the table. He glanced at you, your lips pressed in a thin line as you looked down at your food, not wanting to raise suspicion but desperately wanting to warn him that these people seemed off.

"You know, I've been meaning to try that margarita mix we traded for last week," June said thoughtfully. "Ellie, let me show you how to make it." June waddled out of the kitchen and into the living room, behind Ellie. You heard their voices carrying over faintly as June instructed her how to make her drink.

"This looks great, honey. What's in it?" Joel asked, turning and giving you a pointed look. Honey. He never called you that. It got your attention, and you gave him a quick, curious look before you understood his underlying question. Is this safe to eat? Your gaze drifted back to Dave, who was watching the two of you talk.

"Just normal stuff," you told him. "Nothing special. Veggies, chicken."

His eyes bored into yours, trying to communicate silently with you. You figured it out. Something happened in the basement that worried him, the same way June's behavior worried you.

"Alright, let's dig in!" June said cheerily, entering the kitchen with a yellow drink in her hand. Ellie followed dutifully behind with two glasses of whiskey, placing them in front of the men before sitting across from you.

"This is great, Junebug," Dave told his wife after a few forkfuls. June smiled as she sipped from her glass. You and Joel choked down the meal, offering your compliments and thanks once again, while Ellie silently pushed her food around her plate.

"Not a whiskey man, Joel?" Dave asked, his eyes growing glassy from the drink he had in the basement and now his second one.

"It's just been a long journey," Joel explained, but took a small sip anyway. "Feelin' real tired, is all."

Ellie glanced up and looked at Joel, knowing full well he wasn't tired. In the short time she knew him, it was like pulling teeth to admit he was tired. She looked back and forth between him and you, trying to read your faces without being obvious.

"Quit playing with your food," June told her harshly, finishing up her margarita. "You should be so lucky to have a roof over your head and food in your belly."

Joel stiffened next to you but didn't look up from his plate, his mind racing, trying to formulate a plan.

"You know what? That drink looked good," you said suddenly. "Ellie, why don't you show me if you remember how to make it?" You stood up from the table and Ellie jumped to her feet to follow you.

"Bring me another, too," June barked as Ellie followed you around the corner to the bar cart in the living room.

"What the hell is going on here, Ellie?" you muttered quietly, picking up the margarita mixer and pouring it into a glass.

"It's how they always are," she whispered. "They aren't exactly good with kids, but it's fine."

"No, it's not fine," you whispered back, holding your hand out to keep her from pouring tequila in your glass, choosing to just drink the mixer, not wanting alcohol to dull your senses. You nudged her hand to make her pour a little extra tequila in her aunt's glass. "This isn't how you should be living."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked sharply before turning on her heel and heading back into the kitchen. You trailed after her, finding your seat next to Joel and taking a sip of the fake drink and trying to ignore the guilt. You had no idea how you were going to be able to leave her behind with these people.

You helped June clean up the dishes after dinner while the men filed into the living room. Joel had drank his first glass, but held up his hand when Dave offered a second, rubbing his eyes and reminding him how tired he felt. He needed to get you alone and get you the hell out of here, paranoid that Dave would call those people to do a "trade" for you like he was already suspecting happened originally with Ellie. What else would explain kidnappers being able to bypass his security system?

As if reading his mind, Dave asked "Think any more about what I told you downstairs?"

Joel yawned, trying to hide his anger by contorting his face.

"Lemme sleep on it, get back to you in the mornin', I'm beat," he said, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick. If he was, Dave didn't seem to notice, the whiskey doing its job by keeping him oblivious.

"Alright now, Ellie. Time to get ready for bed," June said, her drink sloshing in her glass. "Say goodbye and thank you to your friends."

You could see the despair in Ellie's face. Trying hard not to cry, you wrapped her in a hug and whispered it will be okay in her ear before pulling back, swallowing hard. She was about to reach for her sketch pad when, much to your surprise, Joel suddenly leaned down and pulled her into a hug. Ellie also looked shocked, not sure what to do at first but eventually brought her arms up around his ribs. You thought you could see him whisper something in her ear, but it happened so fast, you weren't sure.

"Okay, off you go," June told her, and Ellie quickly walked down the hall without another word. You watched her go, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You sat next to Joel, trying to appear interested in what her aunt and uncle were talking about, but you realized it didn't matter the more they drank. Joel's hand dropped on the couch next to you, grasping your hand and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. You looked up at him sadly as he tried to wordlessly say it's okay, I'll get us out of this.

After another hour, Dave stood to tend to the fire, stumbling in the process. June chuckled, her face redder than usual.

"Time for bed, old man," she teased, and he grunted in response, pushing a log around with the poker before straightening back up.

"Suppose you're right, Junebug," he replied. You could hear the alcohol in his voice, the way he spoke slightly louder and slower than usual.

"You two need anything, you just holler," June said, pushing herself off the couch. "Clean sheets are in the closet."

You and Joel stood, watching as they made their way slowly down the hall to their bedroom, June mumbling to Dave until their door quietly clicked shut.

You immediately swiveled around to Joel but he clamped a hand over your mouth, shaking his head. You nodded and he removed his hand, leading you down the other end of the hall to the guest room, and shut the door.

"Joel-"

He held his finger to his lips before he made his way around the room, checking the furniture and closet for any possible hidden cameras or bugs. When he was satisfied, he finally spoke.

"Don't get comfortable. When they fall asleep, we're leavin'," he whispered.

"We can't leave her here," you said, sweeping your arm towards the door.

"I know," he said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "They'll sell her off again the first chance they get."

"Wait, what?" you asked, eyes wide. "I thought someone snatched her?"

"I really fuckin' doubt it," Joel said, running his fingers through his hair. "When we were in the basement, that asshole was tryin' to convince me to sell you to slavers. Said if I don't do it, somebody'll take and sell you anyway. Sounded awful lot like a threat, if you ask me."

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you whispered, wrapping your arms around your ribs and pacing nervously around the room. "So you think they sold Ellie into slavery? Their own niece?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em. You should see the shit he's got in that basement. Must've cost a fortune. I'm sure Ellie wasn't the only one they sold off."

It started to make sense. The way June spoke to and treated Ellie like she was a servant didn't leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

"But they seemed so happy to see her," you said, thinking back.

"Yeah, probably saw her as another paycheck. Two for one," Joel said with a scoff.

"So what's the plan?" you asked him, biting on your fingernail anxiously.

"Give it an hour or so," he began, sitting down on the bed. "Make sure they're passed out. Then, you go get the kid, and I'll go to the basement. I gotta figure out how to turn off the motion alerts on those cameras so they don't wake up. Then we get the fuck outta here."

"Okay," you said quietly, sitting down next to him, stunned. Twenty minutes ago, you just thought they were bad guardians. You had no idea it was this bad. You buried your face in your hands, feeling guilty for bringing Ellie back into this house. You should have fought harder to get her to stay in Jackson. Now, you all ended up in danger, anyway.

"We have to try to warn Tommy and Maria," you whispered. "What if something happens? It'll take us a week to get home."

"Maybe not," Joel replied. "I saw on his cameras that they got a truck in that barn."

Joel stuck his head out into the hallway, craning his neck to listen for any movement from the master bedroom. After a few minutes of silence, he looked back at you and nodded. Quietly, you followed him down the hall, pausing outside of Ellie's room. Before you could open the door, Joel put his hand over yours. He cupped your face and quickly pressed a kiss against your lips, then pulled back to look deep into your eyes while his thumb caressed your cheek.

I'll get us out of here, I'll keep us safe.

You nodded, understanding without him having to say a word. He dropped his hand and made his way down the hall to the basement door, clicking on his flashlight before descending the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed the bedroom door open. You took care to close it gently behind you, then turned around to find Ellie fully dressed and waiting for you at the foot of her bed.

"Hey," you whispered, and she stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"I'm ready," she whispered back.

"How did you-"

"Joel told me," she said quietly. "He said to keep my bag packed, and not to fall asleep."

So he did whisper something in her ear when he hugged her.

"Okay, good," you breathed, trying to hide your nervousness.

"I packed all new clothes, and a few other things I wanted. Do you think I need anything else?"

"You have your flashlight?" you asked.

"Yep. And I got this," she said, proudly reaching into her pants pocket and pulling out a switchblade.

"Where did you get that?"

"Does it matter?" she replied.

"Just be careful with that thing, put it away," you told her. She folded it back up and shoved it into her jeans.

You poked your head out of her door, making sure the coast was clear before taking a step out. You made it two feet before Ellie's hand shot out and grabbed your arm, pulling you back into her room just in time. The master bedroom door swung open and June hobbled out in her nightgown, making her way groggily to the bathroom. You and Ellie stood with your ears pressed against the bedroom door, listening intently as the toilet flushed and the sink ran.

"Where's Joel?" Ellie mouthed.

You pointed down to the floor and mouthed back basement.

You waited until you heard her door click shut and the squeak of the boxspring before opening Ellie's door again. Silently, you made your way down the hall and to the dark kitchen, where you waited for Joel.

"What's he doing?" she said as softly as possible.

"Motion sensors," was all you said back. She shook her head.

"He won't know - I'll do it," she replied, and before you could stop her, she opened the door and made her way down the steps, turning her flashlight on in the process. You went after her as quickly and quietly as you could, knowing Joel wouldn't expect you to be down there.

You entered the bunker, taking a second to gawk at all the guns adorned on the walls. There was also an elaborate looking radio and a workbench filled with electrical parts. You passed five dressers that looked to be filled with different types of ammunition, and you thought you even saw a couple grenades.

"Joel," you whispered, and you heard him shuffle near the back of the room. You swung your flashlight towards the noise, your heart pounding in your ears. He stepped out from behind a tall shelf of canned goods, shaking his head and holstering his revolver.

"This wasn't the plan," he scolded with a deep frown, but before you could explain, Ellie pushed past you both and made her way to the little room in the back that housed all of the security system equipment.

"Ellie!" Joel whispered, going after her.

"I know what I'm doing," she said over her shoulder. He glanced back at you and you shrugged.

"There, the alarm is turned off and so is the recording," she said, emerging from the room. Joel gave her a confused look.

"Recording?" you repeated.

"Yeah, the cameras record everything. So they won't know what direction we go when they wake up tomorrow and try to review the footage," she explained, looking at you like it was obvious before heading to the stairs.

"Did you know-" you began to ask, but Joel cut you off.

"Hey, wait," he whispered, making Ellie stop on the bottom step. He unscrewed the cap of whiskey Dave had shared with him earlier and poured it all over the radio, watching as it sparked a bit. And for good measure, he cut the wire that powered the device before making his way toward the stairs, pushing past Ellie to lead you both out of the house.

Joel led you to the barn, maneuvering on the soft grass instead of the noisy gravel. There was a standard padlock on the door, which he was able to break relatively easily with his hunting knife. He was beginning to realize Ellie's aunt and uncle had all the appearances of being survivalists, but lacked most of the skills. He had lost count of the things he would have done differently if he was defending his own home.

Still, he didn't want to wake them when he was so close to safety. So, he put the truck in neutral and had Ellie steer from the driver's seat while the two of you pushed the car down the long driveway, waiting until it reached the road before making Ellie move to the back and starting it up.

He drove for a few hours until you were both struggling to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline that was previously fueling you both long since worn off.

"Let's pull off here, maybe we can find some gas before we head out in the mornin'," Joel said softly, trying not to wake Ellie.

"Okay," you said quietly, staring out the window as he got off the interstate. He drove for another half hour until he found a volunteer fire hall.

There were a few abandoned cars in the large lot when you pulled in. Joel parked the truck and turned to you.

"Lemme go in and check it out, you stay with the kid," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I'll come with you," you said, but he held out his hand.

"Stay," he repeated firmly, and you shook your head.

"What if-"

"Just do as your told for once," he snapped. You clamped your mouth shut, too tired to argue. He was clearly annoyed that you improvised back at the house and brought Ellie in the basement.

"Fine," you seethed, and he slid out of the truck. You watched with your arms crossed as he approached the door, shining his flashlight inside the window before working on the lock and pushing his way in. You could see the beam of his flashlight through the windows as he moved from room to room, carefully checking out each one before finally coming back out to let you know it was clear.

"Ellie," you whispered, nudging her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up with a yawn, turning around to try to figure out where you were.

"We're gonna stay here for the rest of the night and try to get some sleep before hitting the road tomorrow," you explained as you hopped out of the truck.

She silently followed you into the building, where Joel was waiting, holding the door open. He led you both up the stairs where the firefighters had a small living space with bunk beds. Ellie snagged the first one she saw, curling up with the blanket that was already draped over the bed and falling back asleep.

"You good?" Joel asked, looking over as you flopped down on one of the beds.

"Yeah, are you?" you replied. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Long fuckin' day," he murmured.

"Why don't I keep watch tonight and you get some rest, I'll sleep in the car tomorrow," you told him. You could tell he wanted to argue with you but his exhaustion won.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed after a moment.

You stood back up, checking your gun before heading back downstairs. After you peeked out the windows to confirm everything was all quiet, you wandered around the first floor a bit. It looked like after the outbreak, the building may have acted as a safe zone. There were abandoned bags, cots, blankets, and trash overflowing in the bins.

You were looking through some duffel bags for anything useful when you heard a noise outside. You froze, quickly pulling your gun from the back of your jeans as you made your way cautiously out into the room. At first glance, your flashlight didn't show anything out of the ordinary. You were about to give up when you heard the same noise again. Whipping to your left, you advanced towards the sound with your gun drawn.

The last thing you remember is a hand gripping your throat from behind and a needle slipping into your neck.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarap-77 @sarahhxx03

[radiant-reid]

hey!! if you haven't already, can you write a blurb where spencer and r are on their way home after dropping their child off to college?

i saw a tiktok where the dunphys from modern family dropped haley off and cried a lil🥹🥹🥹

no way baby girl Reid isn't going to the best school

Spencer had tried to hold the majority of his tears back for Matilda's sake. She was already emotional enough, judging the feeling of leaving home with the excitement of the next chapter of her life, and seeing you or Spencer break down about her leaving home might have made it more difficult for her.

So it was just light tears, with the promise of you and Spencer coming for parents' weekend and Matilda already booked on a plane from Boston to DC for Thanksgiving.

Spencer's more of a mess on the drive home once you cross the Connecticut line, and it hits him that she's really gone. "I just can't believe she's an adult now." He says, repeating a phrase that's been in your head. "Like how do we make sure she's eating, sleeping and not drinking too much coffee?"

"The food looks amazing, and her dad has lectured her on how important sleep is." You joke, trying to lighten the mood. "As for coffee? We haven't led by example very well."

"She'll be okay," Spencer repeats, assuring both you and him. "She's so smart. Harvard, Math 55, Biomedical engineering. I'm so proud of her."

"I know." You agree. "She knows too. But it's bittersweet watching her grow up. Feels like yesterday we were dropping her off for her first day of elementary."

You can still see her in her gingham dress and little Mary-Janes, smiling with her bottom front teeth missing. You knew she'd love school from that day on when she came home excitedly talking about how there was so much out there for her to learn, just like her dad, and she did, excelling at everything she tried.

"At least we've got four years before we have to do this again." Spencer jokes.

You don't mention that there are only eight years until the youngest Reid baby will be going off to college. That's far too soon for your liking.

"She'll be finished by then." You realize. "Probably off at med school or getting a Ph.D."

"Yeah." Spencer agrees. "I doubt it'll take her four years to finish."

"Smart like her dad." You say, smiling at him.

He chuckles slightly. "We've got some good DNA between us, my love. They're lucky kids to inherit it."

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 21

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC)

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff, funeral

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: I have good news! I can say for absolute certainty that in the next chapter we will be meeting Lilith! I'm so excited to reveal and introduce her. She's such a great character and an integral part of the story moving forward. This chapter is bittersweet. It's starts out heavy but ends on a lighter note. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @/beating-a-dead-plot

Part 1 || Prev | Next

Series Masterlist

As they approached the thrift store, Wolffe ran through several strategies in his head about how he was going to keep Cara preoccupied while he sold the rings. If she saw what he was doing at the counter, she'd start asking questions, and that wasn't a conversation he was ready to have with his daughter, especially in public. He needed the transaction to be quick and discreet, and the best idea he could come up with to keep her out of it was to just have her wander around the store and look at all the new and interesting things.

With a subtle deep breath, he opened the door of the thrift store, letting Cara walk in first. She had more pep in her step than when they left the Temple, which he was grateful for, and as soon as something caught her eye, she bolted. Wolffe quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her escape. "Hold up. Where do you think you're going?"

Cara pointed to one of the bottom shelves where a bin full of assorted toys sat. "Can I play?"

Wolffe felt relieved that she was putting his plan into motion before he even suggested it, but still, he hated it when she ran away from him without telling him where she was going. It made his stomach queasy, like when he watched his men run towards a firefight knowing not all of them would come back. "Yes, but those toys don't belong to you, do they?"

"No," she said, rocking back and forth on her feet as if she was being scolded.

"Then be careful with them," Wolffe reminded her. "If you break something, Daddy has to buy it, and Daddy isn't made of credits." It was true. He didn't know how much he would be able to sell the rings for, and he only had five hundred credits on him, so it was entirely possible for this transaction to render him completely broke, or subsequently in debt if she broke something.

Cara looked around. "Is your friend here?"

Wolffe sighed, hoping that she heard at least some of what he just said, but then again, trying to explain credits to a child who had no context for what credits were in the first place was less than ideal. "No, baby. I have some business here, and then we'll go see my friend. Be good and wait right here for me, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," she said. He let go of her hand and she wandered off towards the toy bin.

He watched her as she settled onto the floor, legs splayed out and furiously looking through the bin. She pulled out a few things but didn't settle on any of them. He'd have to help her clean up the mess when he was done.

Once he was sure she was well occupied, he snuck up to the counter, which was further back from where the toy bin was, looking over his shoulder periodically to see if Cara was following him. Somehow his daughter made him feel more paranoid than the Separatists did, but perhaps that was because they were more predictable than a child.

The store's counter was more like a glass case, topped with a sheet of durasteel, and filled with the more expensive items like jewelry and antique thingamabobs that Wolffe couldn't make heads or tails of what they were. The gentleman behind the counter looked past his prime and was sitting on a stool and reading something on his data-pad, probably the morning news if he had to guess, but his demeanor didn't appear to be guarded or ornery, so Wolffe felt optimistic about his prospects.

He slipped his hand into his pocket to grab the rings, but let his fingers linger when he felt the cool touch of the metal bands against his skin. He clinked them together, slipped the smaller one through the larger one, and rotated the larger one around, just like he did when he wore it. The hesitancy was unfamiliar, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't will his hand out of his pocket. It was as if the rings were too heavy to lift. Wolffe sighed. It was asinine to get worked up over a hunk of gold that had no value other than the credits he could exchange it for.

"Can I help you?" the gentleman behind the counter asked.

Wolffe looked up from where he had been blankly staring and cleared his dry throat before he spoke. "I… How much can I get for gold?"

The gentleman got up from the stool and shrugged as he approached the counter. "Depends on the weight of the gold and the purity. Show me whatcha got."

Wolffe bit his lip, his gut twisting into more knots. He had to do it. What other choice did he have? It was very rare for him to get into a position where his gut overrode his mission objective, and at the moment he was in a full-blown crisis–paralyzed by the decision. The only thing he knew that could get him out of this situation was to order himself to do it because as they all knew, good soldiers followed orders. It was weird, he had to admit, but whatever worked was the name of the game, and with a single silent order, he placed the rings on the counter.

"They're solid gold," Wolffe said as if his meager knowledge of precious metals meant anything to the gentleman behind the counter.

The gentleman knit his eyebrows and picked up the two rings, placing them gently into the palm of his hand. He lowered the wired glasses that sat atop his head and stared at the rings intently. "What language is the inscription?"

"Mando'a," Wolffe answered. The gentleman hummed in response as he continued to inspect the rings. It wasn't a well-known language, even among the clones, so it made sense that he didn't know it just from looking at it.

Turning to the other side of the counter, the gentleman placed the rings individually on a scale and balanced them out based on the proportions. He scribbled a few notes in his data-pad, then bent down to pull out a small case from under the counter. He flipped the latches open and pulled out a bottle of acid and a small file. Wolffe watched attentively as the gentleman tested the rings for purity. They wouldn't be his for much longer, but he wasn't going to let anything bad happen to them until the transaction was over.

When the gentleman was done testing the rings, he brought them both back over to where Wolffe was standing in front of the counter and placed them down. "You were right. They are solid gold and of high quality. I can give you 1,200 for the smaller one and 3,000 for the larger one."

Wolffe closed his eyes and sighed. It wasn't enough. He was still short three hundred credits to pay the nanny. "Are you sure they're not worth more? Even just a little?" He was trying not to sound desperate, but desperation was the only emotion he had left in the tank.

The gentleman quirked an eyebrow. "If I may, why do you want to sell these in the first place? I can tell by the way you've been squirming that you're not particularly keen on letting them go."

Wolffe was taken aback by the perceptive comment. Was he squirming? If so, that was new too.

"I can see they're wedding rings," the gentleman continued. "Wife ran off with another man?"

"She's dead," Wolffe said without changing his expression. The words were getting easier to say without getting choked up. He turned his head to look at Cara, who was still preoccupied with the large amount of toys she had surrounded herself with, and then turned back to face the gentleman behind the counter. "She's all I have left now, and I have to take care of her. I just… I need 300 more. Please."

The gentleman behind the counter looked between Cara and Wolffe and his expression softened. "The rings are only worth 4,200, so that's all I can give you for them, but I just bought some new shelving units that need to be assembled. If you put them together for me, I'll pay you the 300."

Wolffe's jaw dropped at the offer. It was unbelievable. He glanced at his chronometer to make sure he had enough time to get the job done before their appointment to meet with the nanny. The nanny service wasn't far from the thrift store, only a couple minutes, and as long as there weren't a thousand shelving units, he was confident he could get them all put together in time. "I don't know what to say other than thank you, sir."

The gentleman smiled. "Breathe a sigh of relief, kid. It's not easy being a single father. I should know. I was in your shoes at one point in my life, and sometimes a little assistance is required." It was Wolffe's turn to smile. "Follow me to the back and I'll show you where the shelving units are."

Wolffe took a step then stopped. "My daughter…"

"Don't worry," the gentleman said with a wave of his hand. "We'll only be gone a second, and I'll keep an eye on her while you work. I had five daughters, you know, and they were all a pain in my rear."

Wolffe snorted, a smile lingering on his face. It was nice to talk to someone who knew what it was like. He had enough trouble dealing with one daughter. He couldn't imagine trying to raise five of them at once. The thought alone gave Wolffe a massive headache. He loved Cara to death, but he didn't need any clones of her, that was for sure. "Lead the way."

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[tiramizuloz]

Romantico

chapter 1.1; the girl from ipanema masterlist | next

4th August 2016, 5:48 pm

Raindrops fall harshly against the cold pavement, making soft plopping sounds as they fall. There's thick smoke coming from one of the Asian restaurants which makes the air smell like delicious food.

After another hard day at university and at work the only thing Yn wants is to go home as quickly as she can. But the fact that Tsukishima is getting more and more distant by the day makes her heart swell with bittersweet feelings and no matter how hard she tries to stop thinking about it, those thoughts keep running through her mind like a broken record.

She doesn't have an umbrella so she needs to be fast until she gets completely soaked from the rain. She tightens her grip on her handbag, shielding her eyes with one hand.

‘Watch out!’ a voice shouts behind her, muffled by the rain. Before she can react, she’s on the ground. Pain jolts through her wrist with a crack as the weight of a bike crashes over her.

She yelps while the stranger begins to panic. He gets the bike off of her and grabs her face, ‘Oh my god I am so sorry ma'am! Are you okay?’ His expression is concerned and his hold is gentle. She notices how soft his palms are and how his eyes shine but those thoughts are disturbed by the sharp pain that goes through her whole arm.

Her vision gets blurry and she can feel something warm dripping down her face. The man's voice becomes distant as she faints, the stranger still holding her head gently.

 ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋.ೃ࿔*:･ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 

Her head feels heavy as she blinks the world back into focus. To her side, a ginger-haired guy scrolls on his phone, his shoulder firm but oddly comfortable beneath her.

‘Uhm..’ she whispers quietly. The guy's eyes meet hers and relief washes over his face. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, turning off his phone. ‘My wrist and head hurt…’ she pauses. ‘Where am I? I remember a bike and a guy, I think…’ her voice trembles while her other not broken hand rubs her temple.

He chuckles a little. ‘I'm really sorry for hitting you with my bike. I paid for your plaster, so you don't have to worry about anything.’ Yn looks at him and nods ‘Thank you, but you didn't have to do that. You didn't mean to.’ 

He shakes his head. ‘Even if I didn't do it on purpose, I still did it.’ he retorts. His eyes travel to the time on his phone, and he looks up at her. ‘Can I drive you home, with my bike... if you want to?’ Her eyes dart to the floor, hesitation flickering across her face. After a pause, she exhales and nods. ‘Yeah, sure.’

‘Oh, by the way! What is your name?’ he asks, putting his phone in the front pocket of his pants.

‘Yn. And yours?’

‘Hinata Shoyo!’ he exclaims, and she nods. She wonders how he can be so excited, but it’s understandable when he wasn't the one who was hit with a bike.

‘Well, Yn, do you want to go to the store? For snacks or if you want something else?’

‘I don't think you should do all that, you know. You didn’t kill me,’ she says with a wry smile. Her wrist throbs, a sharp reminder it’s far from a 'small' injury.

A pout forms on his lips.

Cute.

‘Oh c'mon. I should at least treat you to something after running you over with my bike’

‘Fine, fine!' She smiles faintly, her curiosity getting the better of her. 'But where were you speeding off with your bike?

He looks a little awkward after her question, his fingers fidget and he sighs but still decides to answer it. ‘I'm a delivery boy, so... yeah’. her eyes widened. ‘Oh that makes sense, did I… did I make you leave early for work?’ He shakes his head and smiles. ‘Nope, my shift was almost over.’ 

‘Okay then.’  She looks at him from the corner of her eyes and he gives her a huge smile

taglist: @heartmaddie @cherrysurf @lvtilzs @madiexuberant @yenonnoff

© tiramizuloz all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

[yuurivoice]

Laying in bed having a think.

As I try and tackle three intertwined (four? fuck) narrative stories more meticulously than I've crafted any of my narratives thus far, I find myself making several realizations.

BitterSweet is a product of me being at several mental low points but failing upwards. BitterSweet wasn't even intended to be a real narrative, but rather an introduction to Seth then sort of a choose you own adventure, listen to either "path" type thing. When the story revealed itself to me it was very exciting, but I was just going episode to episode and seeing where I'd end up.

Chapter 2 had more planning, a pretty defined outline, and was executed just about to perfection. I think 2 is probably the strongest in terms of knowing wtf was going on and seeing it through.

Chapter 3 is one I feel deeply conflicted about. Plans had to change on the fly multiple times. The scale got out of hand. I was on the struggle bus and only managed to write an episode two at once. It was a mess. We hit some high marks, and some of my favorite performances are in there, but there's this dark cloud over it for me. It's a shame, but it got done.

I can see really clearly how my struggle with my mental health, ADHD, etc. played significant roles in hindering me. So on one hand, I'm thrilled that I was able to make something cool that so many people appreciate and enjoy despite how challenging it was. On the other hand...there's a lot I wish could have been different.

Those wishes have informed many of the choices I'm making now as I tackle Shattered and Echoes, as well as BitterSweet and the unnamed thing. I'm not hitting the big red launch button until it is complete. I've never done that. But I want my writing to be tighter and more cohesive. I'm lucky that making shit up as I went and hitting the broader strokes I knew were there worked out as well as it did, but also I've tripped over myself a time or two.

As ambitious as I'm trying to be with weaving these stories, I want to make sure that when you step back and look at the big picture, it makes sense, but is also really fucking dope.

That's my hope.

This next batch of work is going to be special for me. I'm in my medicated era, but I'm working with a lot of the bones put in place by a version of me that was operating well below capacity.

Reading those first drafts I wrote last year was humbling. God they were bad. Frustratingly so because when I took a hammer to it, what I cooked up in significantly less time on the second draft was so much better than what felt like I had to pull teeth to accomplish before.

I try and tell myself not to look at all of my work through that lens of "I could have done so much better" but it's frustrating. I've gotta cook with the groceries that version of me brought home lol.

It boils down to this. When these next projects launch and the dust settles, I don't want to be glad it's over. When I finished BS3, I breathed a sigh of relief because it felt like I just got out of a year long brawl.

When I finish these projects, I want to be proud. I think that's the conclusion I reached. I was not proud of my work, because it was tainted with compromise and frustration that outside factors fucked with several aspects of it.

So I'm trying to prove to myself that I can do better than that. For myself. I've shaken off the frustration that I'm an entire year behind schedule. I've committed myself to completing it all before it sees the light of day. I've streamlined the process. I really tried to set myself up for success.

When I was struggling I'd cut every corner, I'd phone it in, I'd toss out ambitious ideas for the sake of just being able to call it done.

There's a lot less of that happening now. I'm able to at least try and hold myself to something resembling a standard. Now I just hope I can execute.

Thanks for reading. Sorry about all of whatever that was.

[marchdancer]

I know that we probably won't get this scene because it looks like the puppets created by the wizards can't talk.

However, one scene has been stuck in my head for the last two chapters. It almost seems as if we're going to get a fight between Shapur and Kubard and Isfan (my poor heart! I'm not sure how I'll cope with this. Daryun and his uncle as well as Zandeh and Hilmes and Kahrlan have already torn me apart inside).

But of course I would be even less able to cope if something were to happen to Kubard or Isfan (after all, they are still alive and I would find it even more terrible if they died at Shapur's hand). So of course I hope that this won't happen and since I hope that it will be Kubard who defeats this Shapur puppet, the following thought occurred to me. Some time ago I read, and I think it was on @innerchorus , that in the novella Isfan asks Kubard/Kishward what his brother was like as Marzban and Kubard replies that they always competed against each other and he won more often than Shapur (which Isfan doesn't really want to believe).

So how would it be if Kubard won this final fight between them and Shapur then (with a smile on his lips) said something like "that was our last competition, it almost seems like you're the better of the two of us" or "It's a shame, I thought I could at least get a draw between us. It almost seems like you've finally won our competition, Kubard" and to Isfan "I'm proud of you, little brother" Urgh... that would be a scene that would break my heart and at the same time I need exactly that kind of scene.

Not to mention the panel where Kubard will comfort Isfan with a bittersweet smile on his face, knowing that his rival will be now gone forever.

I don’t now if we will get such a scene but yeah….this is something that is spinning in my head for a few days now.

I am ver curious, excited and anxious for the next chapter. (Impossible that a Manga can cause all those mixed up feelings. It is like a rollercoaster.)

[laurfilijames]

Heyyyy love! Okay, Idk if you have spoken about this before but what inspired you to write Breathe? Other than Will being scrumdelicious. But how long did it take you to think up the idea of it and then get it into writing ?? 😇

I actually haven't ever been asked this and I've been so excited to answer it despite how long it's been sitting in my inbox (I'm sorrrryyyyyyyyy 😭)

Long story short; the first time I watched Triple Frontier I KNEW I needed to write for Captain William ‘Ironhead’ Miller and the moment he stepped onto that stage, he owned every part of me.

To make the story longer; Charlie once again was so captivating playing his role and added so much depth to his character and gave more than enough to embellish on.

Will Miller is seriously my idea of a perfect man.

Looks? Check.

Military personnel? Check.

Wounded Warrior (mentally and physically)? Check.

Strong and masculine? Check.

Devoted to his duty and brothers (in the literal sense as well, hi Benny 👋🏻). Check.

Able to keep his shit together (mostly, also see; Benny). Check.

I'll stop myself before I get too carried away because I can go on forever as to all the reasons why I love this man.

So after the first time I watched it, I immediately started it over and watched it again.

And then again.

And again.

It was like an epiphany. I HAD to write for Will Miller.

I'd say by the next day, I already had plans to write for him, and the main premise of Breathe was noted down in a mish-mash of thoughts in a document.

I knew Will would be suffering long-term with his PTSD and reader would be helping through it all while they fell in love (hello, hurt/comfort 🤤).

I had just started my own gym journey at the time and was obsessed with being there and feeling good and was discovering how difficult training can be. (Still to this day when I'm struggling with something at the gym I imagine the TF boys and everything they've gone through, and picturing a sweaty, pumped-up Will is all the fuel I need to push myself). To me, it all plays in with Will’s character so much and knowing Charlie is so dedicated to physical activity whether for himself or for a role, it helped to inspire this idea of reader and Will hitting it off between sets 🥵

When I wrote the first chapter I really wasn't sure if it would successfully turn into a series. I had ideas of course (and smut to fulfill!) but it was a quick 1.8k that was sort of “take it or leave it” and was my intro to writing for the Charlie fandom. Dipping my toes if you will.

And then the second chapter came. And then the third quickly after.

I was hooked.

I wrote four chapters that I was so proud of and then my muse went in other directions (Jax, Jay and Pete were lurking) and then it took me a few days shy of a year to make the next update.

I had a few encouraging friends to help that next chapter happen and now the series has exploded with interest and I am in constant awe at the response!

I've really pushed myself with expanding on plot and adding a level of angst I never have before, and I only have my friends and readers to thank for being so enthusiastic about it and helping inspire me as I go. 💗

I have plans to finish the series within a chapter or two, something I’ve never done in my writing career (the thought is so bittersweet 🥲) but most of my stand-alone Will fics can easily tie in to this story, and I know I will always write for him even after this story is ‘completed’.

I'm not sure if this is at all the answer you were looking for 😅 but I'm so grateful for you asking it and again I'll apologize for taking so long to answer! I just love this series and talking about it always breathes (lol) new life into it and keeps me motivated to keep going!

THANK YOU!! 😘💗

[adragoninshiningarmour]

Happy New Year's to you Griff!

And Happy New Year's to the Royal Knights and Demon Lords as well!

Imma cry during the last chapters. Dukemon has been a comfort character for me for years now. And yes, I mean your iteration of him.

I've been a die hard fan of ADiSA and Holy War for 10 - 11 years now. I'm excited to see what's next but sad to see it coming to an end. Easily the best digimon fanfic out there, Griff.

Thank you so much! Happy New Years!

Haha, I know what you mean. And thanks. I love Dukemon too, and I hope I'll do him justice.

Wow, thanks for sticking with the stories for so long! It's definitely going to be bittersweet for me too, but I'm also excited to continue writing in this universe in other forms. I'm pretty sure it won't be the last we see of the Knights (depending on how this final battle goes. ;) ) There are still around ten chapters left in the story though, so plenty left to read yet!

[iamnot-crazy]

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

Summary: You have always itched for adventure and when an interesting vessel appears you take your chance and jump aboard. Now the Straw hat pirates present an offer you can't refuse but before you take them up on it you first need to speak to your grumpy captain.

Trafalgar Law x GN!reader

---

Law's initial assumption was that your boundless energy and lack of boundaries would be a constant annoyance, but since you have been aboard he learned how wrong his assumption was. Yes, you were a handful with your knack for finding trouble, and extricating you often became Law's personal headache. But he'd come to appreciate that side of you too. When you weren't excitedly soaking up new information or peppering the crew with questions for your ever-growing log, you were a surprisingly calm person.

For a good part of each day, you'd disappear, engrossed in recording the Heart Pirates' adventures. Your passion seeped through the pages of your beautifully illustrated log, showcasing your love and thoughtfulness for the crew.

It wasn't until he saw you gazing at the Straw Hat captain with the same unwavering determination you'd had when you first boarded the Polar Tang that Law realized what he'd taken for granted.

The Straw Hats each have their own fascinating stories and ambitious dreams and you listen in awe. You scribbled furiously in your smaller travel notebook, capturing their every word so you could later transfer it to your larger masterpiece. Your pen barely kept pace with the torrent of tales they poured out.

Law's frown deepened as your eyes glowed with a familiar spark. Sure he didn't want you on his crew at first but he'd grown attached to you, and so had the rest of the crew. From your cheerful good mornings, while whipping up breakfast to your one-on-one sessions with each crew member to write their stories, you have become an indispensable part of their lives.

But what Law appreciated most was your silent companionship. He'd often find you tucked away in a quiet corner, diligently writing and sketching while he read a medical book, the rhythmic sounds of the waves serving as a lullaby.

His heart tightened when the Straw Hat captain finally reached his boiling point. He bounded over to you, his declaration echoing across the decks, "Y/N! We go on crazy adventures every day and someday I'll be King of the Pirates! If you want to write about a legendary crew, you should join ours!"

Law's gaze darted between you and the captain, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his sword hilt.

Luffy grabbed your shoulders in a playful chokehold. "Every legend needs a chronicler! What do you say, Torao?! Can Y/N join my crew?!"

All eyes turned to Law, the air thick with anticipation. The smile that had bloomed on your face faltered. You'd been so caught up in the Straw Hats' infectious energy that you'd completely forgotten about your crew.

His jaw clenched, and his grip on his sword tightened further. "I don't control them,"

Luffy jumped up in excitement grabbing onto your shoulders and cheering for his new crew members. The others also joined in celebration making you feel welcomed and warm compared to Law's cold glare. You pulled yourself out of the straw hat's grip and bowed your head, guilt gnawing at you. "I'm so sorry, Straw Hat-ya, but… would you allow me some time to think about this?"

Luffy's infectious grin faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah, but don't keep me waiting too long!" He quickly bounced back to his usual cheer, rejoining the festivities.

You felt a pang of longing as you turned away from the vibrant scene, seeking solace with your captain. Sitting awkwardly next to him, you struggled to find the words. Law finally sighed, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. "You should join them," he muttered, surprising you.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. "But what about the Heart Pirates?"

Law pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I already reached my goal. Doflamingo was defeated. I don't know what the world has in store for us next, but I do know whatever the Straw Hats' will be doing, it will be far more interesting. Your dream is to write about the new era, and I played my part. The Straw Hat captain… he isn't done."

You were frozen, your mind racing. "But Captain…"

Law stood up, cutting you off. "Just go join them." He turned away, his voice thick with emotion. He stormed away to the Polar Tang slamming the hatch shut behind him.

Just as Law disappeared in the tang a whistle pierced the air. Turning, you saw Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo approaching, their faces etched with concern.

"He seems mad," Shachi commented, plopping down on a nearby crate.

"You aren't really going to join the Straw Hats, are you?" Bepo asked, his voice trembling.

You shook your head placing it in your hand "I don't know."

Penguin shrugged. "Maybe you should join them. You're almost finished with your book on us, and the Straw Hats are going to need someone like you to tell their stories."

Bepo scowled. "But she's a part of our crew!"

Penguin sighed. "Look, Bepo, she has a dream too. Documenting the new era, the Straw Hats are definitely going to be leaders in that. It doesn't mean she doesn't care about us."

"But what about our Captain? Or do you not think he can become King of the Pirates?" Shachi interjected, glaring at Penguin.

Penguin flinched. "No, it's just… you saw them. Besides, Captain said it himself."

"But Y/N joined our crew first, doesn't that count for something?" Bepo whined.

"I just mean Y/N has served her purpose with our crew joining the straw hats would be the best for her." Penguin countered, his voice firm.

The conversation devolved into a heated debate, leaving you feeling even more overwhelmed. You excused yourself and retreated to your favorite porthole, the one offering the best view of the open sea. As you approached you found another figure leaning against your window staring off at the sea.

You smirked slowing your approach and dancing toward your grumpy captain "Anything interesting out there?" You sang leaning into his view.

Law jumped at your appearance but relaxed when he realized it was you and leaned his back onto the wall. "Nothing new." He sighed rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sorry for being brash earlier."

You crossed your arms and smirked playfully, "You were?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "But I was being sincere earlier. I think you should join the Straw Hats. But…"

"But?" you urged, your heart pounding.

He looked away, his voice quieter. "But we'll miss you."

A warm smile spread across your face. "Awe, did I finally grow on you, grumpy Captain?"

He scoffed playfully turning to his side and looking back out the porthole, "You did a while ago." He admitted.

His comment took you off guard, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Law sighed, "You might have been a little much at first but I have grown to enjoy your presence and passion."

You tilted your head, studying him curiously. "Enjoy?" Your tone was laced with surprise, "The entire time I have been aboard you have been so pouty."

He scoffed, "I have not been pouty." You gave him a knowing look causing him to roll his eyes, "Fine I might have been a little pouty but that's just because I didn't know how to feel about you."

"Feel about me? Captain, do you like me?" You playfully teased.

Law's cheeks turned a faint pink. "Forget I said anything!" He pushed himself away from the wall and started to walk off.

"Wait!" you called out, reaching out to grab his arm. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to tease. Please."

He turned back, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a vulnerability you hadn't noticed before.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and husky. "When you first boarded the ship, you were full of this chaotic energy, but there was another side to you that I learned to appreciate. You care so much about the crew and documenting every adventure." He reached the wall again and sat down, "The first time I saw you here, drawing and writing your stories…"

"Our stories," You interrupted with a chuckle, joining him on the wall.

Law smiled faintly. "Yes, our stories. I didn't think you had it in you to be so focused. It was… nice to hear your pen scratching against your sketchbook as I read my medical books. I think that's when I started having conflicting feelings for you."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. You hadn't expected such a confession. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Law shrugged, a hint of frustration in his voice. "It's not like I could act on it. I'm your captain and there was so much that needed to be done. And if you don't feel the same it would backfire more on me."

Hesitantly, you admitted, "I would be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way. I never imagined you could feel the same." You pause looking softly at him, "So what now?"

Law sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Now you join the Straw Hats and complete your dream. Then, hopefully, one day our paths will cross again."

The thought of leaving Law and the Heart Pirates ached, but you understood his reasoning. "But what if I don't want to join the Straw Hats?"

Law raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I saw how you were looking at them, how you blended in with them."

You bit your lip. "They're constantly getting into trouble, and I don't think I'm strong enough for that."

"They'll protect you," Law reassured you.

"Just like you have?" you asked.

"No." Law averted his gaze, a wry smile playing on his lips. "With me, it was different. I pulled you out of trouble. With them, it'll be different. They'll pull you into trouble, they'll challenge you, push you to your limits, but they'll also have your back."

"But I like things the way they are here. With you," you confessed, a pout forming on your lips.

Law grabbed your chin pulling you to look at him before he pulled you into a kiss. You were taken by surprise at first but his soft lip calmed your nerves as he deepened the kiss.

When he pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of sadness and determination. "Y/N," he said in a voice rough with emotion, "go chase your dream, and when you do, we'll meet again."

He stood up abruptly and disappeared down the hall, leaving you staring after him in a daze.

Taking a deep breath, you knew what you had to do. You grabbed your bag and made your way to the library. There, in the quiet solitude, you began writing the final chapter of your time with the Heart Pirates.

With a heavy heart but a burning determination, you finished the entry, pouring your love and gratitude for your experience onto the pages. Closing the book, you turned to the empty one – the one that would chronicle the adventures of the Straw Hat Pirates. You place the new empty book into your bag leaving the completed version of the Heart Pirates book on the table for everyone on the crew to read.

With your bag full and a new empty book, you walked out of the polar tang. Outside the party, the two ships have started to die down and many lay asleep on the ground. Your eyes darted across the dock for your captain but he was nowhere in sight, before you could turn around in search of him you felt a rubbery hand wrap around your waist.

"Y/N! I see your bags are packed! Did you make a decision?" A bubby captain pulled you off the deck of the Tang and onto the deck of the Sunny.

Your feet wobble as you try to brace your new bearings. You scratch your head, "Yeah I think I did but I was hoping I could say goodbye to Law first."

"No need." Robin appeared at your side, holding a folded piece of paper. "He stopped by earlier and left you a note."

You took the paper, your heart pounding. Written on the paper in handwriting that could only be written by a doctor said, "We'll meet again."

"Hey, we should probably get going soon if we want to make it to the next island by tomorrow!" Nami shouted from above you cutting off your thoughts.

"Alright then, let's set sail!" Luffy declared, his voice brimming with infectious energy.

And with that, the Sunny pulled away from the dock and the Heart Pirates, charting a course towards a new adventure. You stood at the railing, the wind whipping through your hair, your notebook clutched tightly in your hands. The future stretched before you, an open book waiting to be filled with the stories of the Straw Hat Pirates, and perhaps, someday, a reunion with a certain grumpy doctor. A smile bloomed on your face – the adventure had just begun.

---

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

A/N: Wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[redbeanbunsworld-if]

"Daily" Update

Ah, I have a flight tomorrow. Ugh...my head already hurts thinking about it. Crossing my fingers that no one sits next to me. Anyway, sorry for the radio silence! Really busy these days.

Chapter 3 will probably be released mid-September; I don't want to overwork myself, so I won't be releasing it this August. I am fully done with the interactive short, Little Mandarin Minds, and I have now closed As the Green Willow Wilts to the public. I hope you got to read it! I'm not 100% sure when I will make the next parts available to the public, but if I do, it won't be anytime soon.

Little Mandarin Minds sits at around ~13k words. This will illustrate the relationship between MC and Mo Ge from childhood till MC was taken away to Zhongguog. It will also show MC's family, two siblings and parents. Part 1 starts with 8-year-old MC with their family and meeting Mo Ge for the first time. Part 2 is MC at 10 after their isolation and abuse starts. Part 3 is 14-year-old MC and some bittersweetness and happiness. Part 4 is at 17 years old. It's not really just Mo Ge, but MC's family, too, (who will really matter later on in the story).

Little Mandarin Minds will be available to play this Friday!

That being said, this interactive short ended up way longer than I expected. But it's fine, I suppose. ¬_¬ The other non-interactive shorts will be available at around the same time, exclusive to Patreon.

I'll be back with a more detailed update on Chapter 3 progress later! I am really, really excited and screamed so much writing this chapter lmfao! It's going to be the biggest trainwreck with emotional trauma and mental trauma, the trainwreck you get after downing ten shots + coffee. Man...this is THE chapter.

[a-killer-obsession]

Finally finished the chapter where Kil gets his redemption, what a relief, but now I gotta start working the fic into the canon arg. It's getting so close to the end, its so bittersweet. I'm excited to start the next longform, but I'm gonna miss Yin for sure.

Right now next longform is planned to be a Heat x Reader fic based on the Shared Smiles oneshot. I had so many ideas for the reader character after writing that one that I think it really calls for a full fic (as well as the comedy isekai on the side)

[ax-y10]

hiii!!! do you think you could do a young wilbur soot x gn! reader where they’re 16/17 and the reader gets her drivers license finally but you and wilbur have been broken up for a year so you drive past his house? or base it off of olivia rodrigos drivers license song because i’m totally not going through that in my life rn 😅

I Know (We Weren't Perfect)

I hope you feel better 💕

In which- You've been broken up for a year, but you can't help but go back and find out the truth.

A/N: lol where I live, we don't get our licenses till we're 18 or smth like that. Imma try my hardest cause I haven't listened to Olivia Rodrigo's music in ages and I don't have my license so... Also, I'm so sorry this took so long. I have my motivation back now. I'm also really shit at endings and I am on the verge of genuinely crying so I had to try and make the ending happy for me, I'm sorry. I did try my hardest, but I don't want to cry.

Chapter info: bittersweet, poor Olivia Rodrigo recall, sad reader, sad everyone ig, driving, reminiscing, swearing, loud music, somewhat alright ending (I didn't cry WOOHOO)

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Based off of this song:

Masterlist:

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You had always talked about this moment with him. You were both so excited for this moment. You had both talked about this since you were children, and how excited you both were.

But it didn't quite work out in your favours.

He had recently broken up with you. You weren't sure why. But it left you in shambles, your head screaming for an explanation. You genuinely loved him. So fucking much.

People you wish didn't find out, found out. And immediately spread rumours about why he broke up with you. He found another person who made him feel better, he didn't love you anymore, he hated you, he thought you were too much to deal with. You couldn't believe anything they were saying. You didn't believe anything. What blonde girl? Who is the blonde girl? Who are they talking about? What are they talking about?

You knew it wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, and you knew it was hurting you more than helping, but you just couldn't help it. Driving through the suburbs was a struggle. Your mind kept drifting off and convincing you that you were driving home to him.

You didn't even know if he lived in the same city as you even more.

You still had his phone number, and you got confirmation from Tommy that his phone number was still the same. Time and time again, you tried your very hardest to contact him and ask about what happened, but you couldn't bring yourself to press the 'send' button.

Now, you finally have your drivers license, and oh my god, did it hurt. The minute you found out, you cried in happiness. "I HAVE MY DRIVERS LICENSE" you yelled over the phone to your friend. But little did they know, you curled up under the blankets each night and sobbed. Why was he gone? Why is he suddenly out of your life?

Is he alright? Does he still love me? Does he still know who I am? Does he think about me like I think about him?

These thoughts plagued your mind each night.

You can't even dare to drive past the coffee shop you visited every week, along the road next to the beach, near any of your mutual friends' houses, past your schools.

My goodness, you still love him, it hurts.

And no one understands.

Where is he now?

How is he?

Contacting Phil, your "father figure", your comfort now, you ask how Wilbur is, how he's doing, how he's holding up. If he still thinks of you.

And the answer you got back was certainly mixed.

The message read: (Don't worry, sweet. He is totally alright, he's doing well. I haven't heard anything different from him from when you both were together. And of course, he definitely still thinks of you. Would you like me to come over?)

And you replied: (Yes. Yes. Please. Come over.)

And now here Phil was. On your sofa, next to you, holding you close, letting you cry.

And the message entered your head again. And it all made sense.

Phil hasn't heard anything different. Wilbur used to ramble on and on and on about you to Phil. and nothing has changed. So of course he has to still talk about you. And he still thinks about you. So he is affected by it, but he may also be too scared to reach out to you.

"Phil" You said with a shaky voice.

"What's wrong, sweet?" He replied soothingly, almost entirely like Wilbur. He's learnt how to talk to you like a daughter, instead of a friend.

"Your message. You said you don't hear anything different, and he still thinks of me? But he used to ramble on about me all the time? So does he still do that?" You frantically asked.

He laughed a little, bringing down your hopes, and then he continued.

"Y/n. Of course he still thinks about you. Of course he still rambles about you. It's all positive I promise." And that's when you blurted your true question.

"Can you take me to him? Please? I need to see him." You pleaded, and Phil lead you out to his car, and off you went.

As soon as you got there, you raced up the front steps, and knocked slightly on the door, awaiting him. What you didn't expect was him on the phone, a can of some drink you didn't know, and a scruffed up house.

As he locked his focus on you, you noticed the weariness behind his eyes, the worry. His eyes widened, and he said goodbye to the person on the phone, and looked at you quizzically. Extending your arms sideways, like you always used to, he placed his hands on your forearms and pushed them back down to your sides.

Tears brimmed your eyes. Did he hate you? Did Phil lie? Does he not want you he-

You felt long, familiar arms wrap around you and lift you off the ground, spinning you around. You were glad he's alright and still thinks of you but you knew you couldn't just immediately go back to being attached at the hip. At the best for the moment, you could go back to being friends.

"I'm so fucking sorry. I was drunk and I didn't know what I was doing. And when I woke up at my house, I was so confused. Please forgive me, I feel so bad for leaving you. I've meant to contact you and apologise, but I couldn't. Please. I still think of you. Please?" He started with no tears, and ended in a sob.

You waved off Phil and walked in with Wilbur.

"Of course I forgive you. Why wouldn't I? I just wish one of us asked or reached out. I really want to go back to what we were, but we can stay as friends, or whatever you want, okay?" You comforted. Now you understand.

"Please. I am happy with going back to what we were. I would like to be friends first but if we can't wait, which I know for a fact is unbearable for both of us-" He laughed. What a joyous sound., "-we can go back."

And that's where the relationship began (for the second time)

---

Again, I do apologise for making it a happy ending. I didn't know which you wanted so I went with what felt fright for me. Hope you enjoyed it.