#like what is the point of growing up in ‘good neighborhood’ if you’re going to be bullied for wearing 15 dollar shoes from the flea market

[aquaarising]

i would not have hated growing up poor if i wasn’t forced to be around wealthier people

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[monstersholygrail]

Okay for the birds. Since you asked so nicely. (And because I am on my knees BEGGING for crumbs of this!!!) How would they react to reader living in a run down apartment? Like it takes a lot of money to keep a studio going, even with such... passionate attendees. Yeah they spoil reader at the studio, but what about seeing reader out and about? At home, out shopping?

For Scarlet Macaw Bird Hybrids the colony keeps coming at you like they’re vultures. They’re greedy for your cum, needy for the tight clench of your fat cunt milking their cocks dry, desperate for your cries of pleasure and who can force them out of you, and they crave the feel of your pliable flesh in their loving hands as they take you over and over again.

They’ve all lost themselves in you, as if you’ve pulled a veil of lust over their eyes and they are nothing but mindless machines set for your pleasure. It’s all they want. To feel that deep connection with you, their precious mate.

One after the other they fuck you dumb, bringing you release after release. Even as your body grows more tired they can see the need in your eyes and they won’t stop until their mate is fully satisfied.

As your next orgasm crashes into you, your eyes roll back, your body no longer having the strength to fully seize and shudder with the sheer force of your pleasure.

Your mates currently taking care of you each unload a hefty amount of cum inside your gushing walls. It isn’t until they slip out of you to lightly peck kisses along your face that they realized they fucked you till you passed out.

All the bird hybrids coo at you in worry, their wings flapping as they surround your plush fucked out form. All limp and beautiful. Their hands lovingly caress every inch of your body, making sure you’re alright.

“I’ll take her to her human apartment. Make sure she gets there safe,” one of the bird hybrids speak up.

Instantly a chorus of over bird hybrids chirp out their disagreement. All of them wanting to be the one who takes you home and tucks you into bed. Anything just to be with you for a little bit longer and to take care of you. But the first bird hybrid stands his ground and insists.

Taking you into his arms he begins to fly you home. You had never shown any of the bird hybrids in the colony where you lived but a few started following you home after your night class with them and soon after everyone knew where you lived and would follow you to make sure you got home safe after that class.

Silly humans would call it stalking. But they were only looking after you! They made sure you never got hurt and hurt anyone who dared try.

You didn’t live in a very good neighborhood after all, putting most of your money into your studio, so they had to take care of you. Even if that meant scaring off anyone who looked at you funny or with any interest.

But none of the birds had ever been inside your apartment before. As the bird hybrid uses your key to enter, his eyes widen in horror at the sight of your run down apartment. Their mate could not live like this. Not under their watch.

After tucking you into bed, the bird hybrid gets out his phone and enters their colony group chat dedicated specifically to talking about you.

“OUR MATE IS LIVING IN SHAMBLES!” The bird hybrid texts into the chat to convey his panic. Seconds later and the group chat is blowing up.

“I knew we didn't pay ‘nough for her classes!"

"Should demand she raise them…"

"Do dance teachers get random bonuses?"

“Would she feel insulted if we gave her money at the end of classes after we’ve fucked her raw?”

“Not if she’s too blissed out to notice us slipping the money in her bag.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t like. I think the humans call it Pros— Pollution? Or Hook— something to do with fishing, I don’t know. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s not the point! What are we going to do about this? We can’t allow this to continue,” the bird hybrid types, interrupting their rambling.

“Could always take her back to the nest…” one hybrid suggests. He thinks about it for a moment before he shakes his head.

“An idea for another day. She wouldn’t go for it now. We need to fix up her place until she’s ready.” The bird hybrid with you concludes.

As you sleep the bird hybrid plans for everything. He sends for a whole bunch of them to head over to your apartment. A team of them flying around and taking what they need to help fix up your apartment while another team prepares the place for work.

When everyone arrives at your apartment things quickly dissolve into chaos. Of course, all the Bird Hybrids want to see you first sleeping all pretty and fucked out in your bed. The Hybrids at that night class immediately start boasting about how good they fucked you and others immediately raise their voices, pleading their own case.

It’s only when you shift on the bed that the Bird Hybrid that brought you home immediately shushes them.

“Stop, stop, stop! We can’t wake her,” he whispers.

Their eyes all fall back onto you, silently watching your plush figure squirm and settle back on the bed. The small action alone causing them to get a little hard and they have to force themselves not to clamber onto the bed and wake you up.

No, instead they get to work. Upgrading your apartment in every possible way they know how. Cleaning it up and making it into a real home. While also enforcing it and making sure you’re the safest person in the neighborhood.

Creating the near perfect nest. Only second to their own they hope to bring you to someday.

They can’t wait for you to finally wake up. They all imagine the look on your face when you rouse from your slumber to see them all there and your apartment completely changed. But most of all… they can’t wait for the thank you gifts you’re bound to give them all.

You have to break in your new apartment somehow, don’t you?

[biblio-smia]

part one | part two | part three

mike hasn't been himself in a while.

he's been there, physically, barely. you chalked the first few days of the lack of anything from mike up to his new job working security at the local mall. the new title came with longer hours and a sort of haze over mike, the little energy he already had draining into the negatives. on the occasional night you stayed for dinner, there was a faraway look in his eyes and your words had to leave your mouth three times before mike really heard them.

next came the forgetfulness.

first it was to call you before he went to bed that night. you hung around the landline in your kitchen for hours before you slipped into unconsciousness in your dining room chair.

you didn't bring it up.

then came the second saturday since mike had started working as a security guard, the day you and mike would usually have a night in with dinner and drinks.

you'd kissed abby goodnight and shut her door quietly, almost spinning into mike as he came up behind you.

"i'm so sorry, i'm really, really, tired," mike sighed, his arms wrapping around you as his chin sank on your shoulder. your hands immediately set to soothe his muscles, hoping he'd get better sleep tonight.

"it's okay," you assure, pressing an understanding kiss to mike's cheek. "do you need me to tuck you in, too?"

mike laughs, an arm wrapped around you as he walks you out. you find comfort in the fact that he doesn't really want to let go, pulling you in for another warm hug and smothering you with quick kisses. quiet laughter fills the air and mike holds onto your hand until you're too far to touch, not retreating inside the door frame until your car has turned the corner of his neighborhood and disappeared.

so, even though you haven't had a proper conversation with mike in more than a few days, you don't bring it up.

mike forgets to make dinner again. last time he'd been lucky, a few stray vegetables coming together to save his ass with soup; it looks intentional enough for abby despite her usual groaning.

this time, not so much.

you’re up extra early to help take abby to school. at least, that’s what you say you’re there for, though really your mission is to make sure mike leaves with his uniform on his back the correct way. everyone is running late as mike flips over a pancake to reveal a blackened outside with a still-raw inside.

“ohhhkay,” you say, taking the spatula from mike and gently pushing him towards the door. you turn off the stove and throw the failed breakfast attempt out, checking the fridge only to find it almost completely barren.

looks like mike hasn’t even had time for groceries. you shouldn’t feel bad that he hasn’t had time for you.

you feel mike’s frustration grow as he can’t find his keys, abby’s impatient pointing to the time adding to his stress.

“hey.” your voice is grounding as you pull mike in by his slightly-wrinkled white collar, undoing a button in the wrong hole and smoothening out his shirt. “did you check your pockets?”

mike did not.

his hand digs into yesterday’s jeans and his fingers closed around the cold metal of his keys. there’s a smile on your lips as you pull mike in for an intoxicating kiss (mike doesn’t even hear abby gag).

“thank you,” mike whispers, one hand gratefully on your elbow.

“don’t forget to eat something, please.”

mike nods, kissing your cheek once before bolting out the door. if he drives fast, he might still make it on time.

you turn to abby with a smile, grabbing her backpack and her tiny hand.

“how about we pick something up for breakfast?”

abby cheers, no longer aware of how much silent reading time she’d missed.

when you pick abby up there’s a frown on her face and you feel bad for dragging her to the grocery store. abby doesn’t complain because she hates upsetting you, a nervous desire to be a “good kid” in front of you still standing strong. though her eyes light up when you place a candy bar in with the rest of your items at the very end, knowing it was for her by the way you smiled.

“don’t tell your brother.”

abby shakes her head and holds your hand tighter, grinning. mike always said you spoiled her, but you felt like going on a little bit of a rebellious streak.

abby helps you put away groceries (as best she can with her thin arms and small stature) and you let her pick tonight’s menu. to no one’s surprise, she chooses spaghetti and meatballs. you’d anticipated this dish being a popular one, pulling out the ingredients immediately.

abby draws while you cook, though mike’s kitchen was different from yours and you’d somehow burnt the sauce. really, all you had to do was heat it up.

you supposed you’d gotten lost in your head (now you could understand where mike was most of the time). but then abby’s face scrunched and her voice cut through.

“is something burning?”

you bite back a curse (not in front of abby!) and taste the sauce to see if it was worth salvaging (it wasn’t). you tossed the few cents’ worth and tried to scrape off the black stuff it left behind. you gave up and pulled out a new pan, making one of the easiest meals known to man without fault this time.

abby’s in bed. not even a sugary high could compete with a full belly and warm coaxing from you (though you’re glad mike’s running late, missing how much longer it takes you to lure abby to sleep).

keys jingle on the other side of the front door and you know staying was the right decision when you sigh at the sound. your shoulders are hunched as you sit at the dinner table, plate of spaghetti only half-touched.

the front door creaks open and you don’t rise to greet mike with a kiss as you usually would. mike barely notices, busy sniffing the air and trying to identify the hint of something awful. he locks the door behind him, kicks off his shoes, remembers to hang his keys. the place looks tidier than he left it.

he’s quiet, wondering if abby left the kitchen light on when his socked feet lead him in front of you.

your chin rests in your hands as you look up at him, slowly. there’s a tired, forced smile on your face and mike suddenly remembers dinner.

he opens the fridge and is convinced he’s traveled back to a week and a half ago with the state it’s in. mike glances at the stove and identifies the main smell that had hit him upon arrival.

“you..?” mike can’t finish, pointing instead to the fridge and the pot of pasta.

you nod, your eyes never leaving him despite your head not really moving. you’re different tonight.

“you didn’t have to.” mike is tiptoeing the line between grateful and annoyed. he’s an adult and these are his responsibilities. but really, what would he had done without you?

“yeah,” you reply and mike is worried you’re going to break up with him. his heart quickens his pace and he’s suddenly nervous. “are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“what?” that wasn’t what mike was expecting. “nothing’s wrong,” he shrugs, shields coming up immediately.

“really?” you’re hoping he’ll just spit it out so you don’t have to ask again. but you underestimate how stubborn mike is. “because this is the first actual conversation we’ve had in, like, a week.” it’s been longer than that, but your head is starting to spin.

“i’m just… tired.” mike shrugs again, turning towards the cabinets to pull out a bowl, immediately guilty as he gets ready to eat the food you had to make.

your expression is unrelenting as mike glances over, his eyes darting back to his plate to avoid yours.

mike is startled by how quietly you creep beside him, hands pulling the pot and the pincers closer.

“i’ve got it,” mike insists as you begin reaching for his bowl (because, even now, you still care). “i said, i’ve got it.”

ceramic smashes against tile. the both of you are forced to freeze now, the threat of stabbed feet keeping either of you from walking away.

“mike, if i’m too much for you right now, you have to communicate-”

maybe that’s it.

“you are being too much,” mike blurts out heatedly, his honesty evidently shocking you. “i’m not a kid. you don’t have to take care of me.”

you need a second to recover. to let mike’s words sink in.

“i don’t mind it, mike, i really don’t. if you need me to pick abby up, fine. watch her? i’ve got it. if you need me to take care of dinner, i’d be happy to. i’ll do it all without you even having to ask, because that’s how i love you.”

mike is twelve years old again, feeling himself shut down completely, watching as his mother pleads for him to speak to her. she gives up eventually.

“it doesn’t even feel like we’re in a relationship anymore, michael. and if you need a break, that’s fine, i just want you to talk to me.” the pressure in your chest is lifted with the relief of saying what you’ve been meaning to but is immediately restored (and heavier, if possible) by mike’s silence

it had only taken a few more years for michael’s home to be completely broken, shattered into tiny pieces like the ceramic bowl on the ground.

michael is difficult. he knows this.

it has been floating in his head for years but it is hammered in now: michael schmidt is hard to love.

mike is silent now, watching your lips move but not quite grasping any sound coming out of them; not quite there, lost somewhere else like he has been for weeks.

at last he has the sense to do something.

he walks carefully through the remnants of the bowl on the floor, finding the broom in a different place than he’d left it and returning to the kitchen.

you’re gone and mike’s head snaps to the sound of the doorknob.

“i’m not gonna wait around forever.” you say before you slip out into the dark of the night.

mike sees your headlights faintly through the curtain before they disappear down the street.

mike begins mindlessly sweeping up what’s left of the bowl, left alone with no one but himself to blame.

he has been abandoned, once again, but can he really call it abandonment when he pushed you away first?

requests for mike schmidt are open!

[jobean12-blog]

Perfect Kind of Trouble

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,566

Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you. 

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever! 

“Oh my god, he’s here.”

You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.

“Who Nat?”

She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.

“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”

You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.

“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.

She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.

“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.

“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”

“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Righttt…so, who is he?”

“Just the perfect man.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.

“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”

“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”

“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.

“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”

“I don’t get it,” you say.

“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.

“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”

“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”

“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”

At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.

When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.

A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.

Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.

Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.

When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.

“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”

Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.

With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.

“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”

You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.

“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”

It comes out as a question and he chuckles.

“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.

“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.

He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.

As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.

You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.

“Another?” you ask.

“Sure doll, thanks.”

While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.

“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”

“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”

“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.

You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.

“Nat.”

Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”

You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.

“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”

At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.

“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”

His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.

“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”

He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.

You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”

“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”

“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”

“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.

You nod, looking completely unconvinced.

Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”

You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”

You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.

At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.

As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.

He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.

Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.

You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.

Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.

When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.

“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t really…”

The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”

You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.

“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.

His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.

You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”

“Work…I still have to work.”

His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.

You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.

Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.

It makes you cringe.

“Hi there,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.

One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.

You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”

Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.

Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.

The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”

Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”

The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.

You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.

“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.

All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.

The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”

They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.

“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.

“I think so. That was just…crazy.”

Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”

You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.

“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.

He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”

You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.

“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”

You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.

“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”

Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.

“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.

Your jaw drops open in offense.

“What? NO!”

He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.

You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.

“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”

He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”

“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”

He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.

You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.

“Let me get you fixed up.”

Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.

“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”

His question is light.

“Go where?”

“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”

“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”

“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”

Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.

“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.

“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”

Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”

You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.

“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”

You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.

The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.

Bucky fills the doorway.

Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.

You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.

“Hey, doll.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”

“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”

You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.

He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”

He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.

When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.

“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”

“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.

He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.

“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”

You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.

Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.

You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.

“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.

He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.

After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”

His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.

When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”

The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.

You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.

“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”

He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.

“See ya soon doll.”

The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.

“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.

He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.

You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.

“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.

You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.

“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.

You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.

As your shift nears its end he calls you over.

“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.

“I can’t tonight.”

He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.

It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.

The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.

You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.

Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.

The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.

A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.

“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Charlie.”

You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.

His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.

He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.

“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”

You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.

“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”

With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.

You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.

Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”

You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.

“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”

“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”

“No it’s not!”

“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”

She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.

“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.

“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.

You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.

Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”

She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”

“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.

“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”

“Me!” you say defensively.

Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”

Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.

“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”

Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”

“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.

“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.

You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.

“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”

“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”

“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.

Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”

“Yes he is.”

The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.

Finally!

The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.

“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”

“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.

You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.

“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.

You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.

When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”

Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.

He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.

Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.

Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.

“Hey,” he says soothingly.

“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.

His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”

He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.

“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”

“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”

Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.

Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.

You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.

He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.

“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”

@book-dragon-13  @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife​

[hellfirenacht]

C'mon, It's Just One Night (Part 2)

Summary: After getting a fake love note in your locker, you ask Eddie to help you mess up some bullies plans. 

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, smut later, fem reader, reader wears a dress at one point, mentions of bullying, actual bullying, three-shot

Master List

3.8k Words

Part 1

You and Eddie didn’t talk about the plan again until the night of Homecoming. Most of the chats you had about what was going to happen tonight was about the secret show that Corroded Coffin was going to do right after the dance. 

Honestly, you had heard a few kids quietly whispering about the show, which surprised you. You wondered how many people were interested in the music versus wanting to see the Freak and his band play. After all, Corroded Coffin only really played The Hideout on Tuesdays, which wasn’t exactly the best time slot for high schoolers. 

It was about a half hour before the dance was supposed to start, and you had spent the whole day distracted. You kept reading that stupid note over and over again, and anyone watching you would think that you were just excited about a secret date. The truth was that you hoped that the note would somehow give you any sort of clue about what was planned for you when you made your way into the gym that night. 

You’d convinced the rest of Hellfire to try and gather any information on what was going to happen, but no one came back with any information. Even Lucas, who was a jock, couldn’t get any information from anyone. 

Maybe this would be a Carrie situation. 

Having telekinetic powers could be cool though. 

You stared hard at the brush on your desk that night, trying to make it move with your mind. Nothing happened. 

It might not have moved because as you were glaring at your brush, a knock came at your bedroom door. It was your mom, wanting you to come outside and take photos of you in your outfit. And yeah, you were a little excited to do that after all the work that you had put into looking this nice for a fifteen minute bit. It wouldn’t hurt to have proof that you looked good tonight.

You stood up and smoothed out your dress before walking outside into the front yard as your mom called out that she’d be out there in a second as she grabbed the camera.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be outside, but when you stepped out the door you were greeted with the sight of someone standing on the porch.

It was Eddie.

Eddie Munson. 

His hair was freshly washed and his waves were framing his face perfectly. His leather jacket had been discarded for the night and he was wearing a dark gray button-up shirt that looked almost black with the top two buttons undone. The closest you’d ever seen him wear a button up were a few flannels that he wore in the fall and winter. His jeans looked... they looked new. New and dark blue with no holes in them to be seen. The only pieces of his outfit that you recognized were his rings and his reeboks. The twilight had cast a near purple haze over your neighborhood, and Eddie... Eddie looked good in that fading light. 

“Holy shit.” You said, after staring at him like an idiot for a moment. “Who are you and what have you done with Eddie?”

“Ha Ha.” Eddie fake laughed. “I could say the same about you.” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm, unsure if that was a compliment or not. “I... You look good.” you said more genuinely. 

This caused Eddie to shift slightly on his feet. “You look better.”

You could have died on the spot. 

“Wait, what are you doing here?” you asked. “I thought we were meeting up at the school?” 

“You’re coming to the show with me after this anyway.” Eddie explained. “It’d be easier if I just drove both of us. We can still pretend that we didn’t meet up, I can drop you off at the school where no one will see us together and I’ll follow you inside after a few minutes.”

That made sense, you were going to be helping out with set up after the dance anyway. 

“You might have made a mistake coming out here to pick me up, you know.” you said. “My mom will be out here in about two minutes and if she sees you, she’s going to make us take cheesy photos together.”

“I can humor your mom for a few minutes for this.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, I owe her for being such a loyal customer.”

You stared at him. “Eddie... what do you mean by that?”

He gave you that trademark shit-eating grin, the one that he often used during club when he knew he was about to royally piss everyone off. 

“How else do you think I was able to buy new jeans?” he asked, his brown eyes shining in the lingering twilight. 

“Eddie Munson, you motherfucker, do not tell me that you sell drugs to my own mother-” 

Speak of your mother, and she shall appear with a smile and a camera in hand. You were going to have a long talk with Eddie later about boundaries and selling weed to your mother, even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. 

Your mom quickly ushered you to take some solo pictures of you, and Eddie stood behind her watching with amusement as you awkwardly posed in the way you had seen in some teen magazine that you’d browsed when waiting in line at the grocery store. You felt stiff and awkward until Eddie started making faces behind your mom’s back that had you breaking out into a fit of giggles. He was totally going to give you shit for this later, but you knew he’d have his moment in the spotlight in a moment as well. 

Eddie was next up, but somehow he had no problem casually posing and smiling for your mom’s camera. Asshole. 

Then the couple’s pictures came and your mom made it clear exactly how she had wanted you two to pose. Eddie didn’t even hesitate wrapping his arm around your waist and holding your hand. 

For a few moments, you forgot what was supposed to happen that night. In this moment, you could really believe that you were going on a date with your best friend, and that he was holding your hand because he wanted to, not just because he was being forced to because of a favor. Eddie had always been a good actor, and you thought that if he wasn’t such a metal-and-D&D nerd, he could have been great in the theater department. 

Eddie really was a storyteller at heart. In music, in Dungeons and Dragons, in his doodles, the way he played up his Freak persona, and in this moment with his arms settled on your hips and his head on your shoulder. If Eddie wanted to captivate with a story, he could. 

It’s a shame that a story was all this was. 

Once the two of you were finally released from the watchful eye of your moms camera, Eddie led you to his van. He opened the passenger seat door for you, and even helped you into your seat as if he were a real gentleman. You didn’t think anyone had ever done that for you before. 

“So... is there a plan for how we’re going to do this?” you asked. “We haven’t really talked about how this is going to happen.” 

“What time is your secret admirer supposed to show up?” Eddie asked, the sound of his mixtape crackling through the air. 

“7:30.” 

“Then you’ll go in about five minutes early, stand in the middle of the gym, and at 7:30 I’ll burst in, sweep you off your feet, and then we can blow this joint.” Eddie said. 

“I could use a joint.” you sighed, looking out the window as reality came back. You weren’t a princess, and this wasn’t a fairytale. Eddie was only doing this as a favor, nothing more. 

“I’ll let you have one after we set up for the show.” He promised, pulling his van up to behind the school where no one was going to be dropped off for the dance. “I’ll see you inside in five minutes.” 

You gave him a nod. “See you on the other side, Freak.” 

You slipped to the entrance of the gym, and walked towards the booth where you presented your homecoming ticket. Homecoming had started at 7 pm on the dot and most students were already inside, dancing and giggling and having fun. The sound of the latest pop songs were echoing through the halls outside of the gym. The cheerleader running the ticket booth looked you up and down with a giggle.

“I love your outfit! It’s so... unique!” she gave you a smile that was way too wide and you grit your teeth at the false compliment. You shoved that anger down into your gut, and gave your best fake smile back, hoping that you sounded more sincere. 

“Thank you, so much!” Your voice came out a bit higher pitched than anticipated, but the cheerleader didn’t seem to notice. 

“Your Secret Admirer is going to love it.” She continued, and you felt your stomach twist. Shit, the cheerleaders were in on this too? You wondered how many people were in on this. “He asked me to give you this when you got here.”

She handed you a note, in the same sloppy handwriting as before. 

Meet me in the center of the dance floor at 7:30. 

It was 7:26 right now. You were tempted to make the assholes wait, after all, you wanted to make sure Eddie had a chance to get here before they could. But the cheerleader obviously saw you read the note, and there was no time to turn back. 

Just show up for me. Eddie. You thought to yourself. Although this had been your idea, you were feeling nervous now. You really were about to put yourself out on full display to the school, willingly offering yourself up on a plate to your peers for humiliation. What if this didn’t work? What if Eddie didn’t make it in time? What if something worse happened with Eddie here? 

The short walk from the entrance to the middle of the dance floor felt like slow motion. Your mind felt fuzzy and you hoped that you weren’t shaking from nerves. You stood in the center of the dance floor, and turned to face the single clock in the back of the gym. You could barely make out the time with the distance and dim lights, but you knew it was almost time. 

7:27

7:28

You could do this

7:29

Almost time....

7:30

7:31

Where the fuck was Eddie?

7:32

Did he get held up?

7:33

Did he change his mind?

7:34

Fuck, you could hear the giggling.

7:35

You felt a tap on your shoulder. 

This was it. 

You turned around slowly, waiting for the worst. 

Eddie stood before you, corsage in hand, on one knee as if he was proposing to you. 

Maybe this was the real prank. Maybe the real prank was the one you played on yourself to be able to see your best friend kneeling and smiling up at you, offering you a corsage. 

Time froze for a second as you took in the sight and committed it to memory. 

“I’m glad you made it.” Eddie said, loud enough for anyone to hear. He really did have that natural projection that should have had the theater kids begging him to join them. “I knew you’d respond to my note.”

There was a dull murmur of confusion behind you, and you saw Eddie’s eyes flicker to something that you couldn’t see and he gave you a small nod. 

Fuck, that was your cue. 

You brought your hands up to your mouth, acting like all of the actresses you’d seen on tv who’s characters had been proposed to. You began nodding and accepted the corsage, letting him slide it onto your wrist. 

How had he known what color to get to match your dress? 

Eddie stood up and you threw your arms around him. “I was hoping it was you!” you said loudly, no need to act for this part. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up and spun you around once. He really was deceptively strong, and you giggled as he set you down. Your lips met his cheek. His arms stayed around you. 

Eddie smiled at you in a way that made your cheeks heat up and your knees feel weak. 

You two were staring at each other. 

The music changed. 

Eddie moved one of his hands from around your waist to grab yours, and the two of you were slow dancing before you even fully knew what was happening. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You asked, following his movements. 

“You said you wanted to really sell this that we were together now.” Eddie said, keeping his eyes on you. “I don’t know how many people would believe it if I showed up and we immediately left. It wouldn’t exactly be memorable.” 

“Right, good point.” you agreed. 

“I always have good points, that’s why I’m the dungeon master.” Eddie chuckled, “Besides, it’d be a shame that you put in this much effort to look good for little old me to not show you off. What kind of boyfriend would I be? I have to make sure that I get a reputation for being a mean and scary freak, but also a decent date.”

Boyfriend. 

“Shit.” you said quietly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowing with a frown. 

“I didn’t think about what happens after this. You agreed to be my fake date, but I don’t want you to feel trapped with me after this.” you said. “Yeah, this’ll get everyone off my back for now but when school starts again, I don’t want you to feel like you have to act like we’re together.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Eddie said. “It’s not like my dating life is thriving here anyway. Between you and me, I’m a little too old for those who dare try and get with the Freak here.”

You let out a small laugh. “Tired of one night stands with girls who just want bragging rights?” 

“After the third time, I was starting to feel like I was cheating on my right hand.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, erupting into a fit of giggles. This felt right, this relaxed moment with Eddie. This is how it was supposed to feel with someone, right? It was supposed to be easy, and with Eddie it always was. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” you said after your giggles had died down. “I really owe you one.”

“I thought this plan was me owing you one.” Eddie asked. 

“This is honestly above and beyond helping you get a passing grade for a test.” you admitted. “I know you have your show tonight, and you hate doing anything for school. Plus, you showed up wearing this and you spent money on jeans and the corsage- oh, thank you for the corsage-”

“Hey,” Eddie snapped you out of your rambling. “Don’t act like you forced me to do anything. You said I had full creative control tonight. I chose to do all this for you.”

“Why?” you asked, meeting his eyes. “You could have so easily told me to just fuck off and said no.”

“I’ll admit this wasn’t exactly my idea of how this night was going to go.” Eddie said. “But then you said that you wanted the Freak to show up for you. I wanted to know what would happen if it was just Eddie.” 

“Just Eddie...” you said quietly. Not the Freak, not the satanic cult leader, not the dungeon master. Just Eddie, your friend. “I’m glad that just Eddie was the one to show up.” your mouth went dry. “I- ...Eddie I-”

The two of you had stopped moving in slow circles, Eddie was closer than he had ever been to you before. You forgot where you were and Eddie was leaning closer to you, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Whatever it was, it was room temperature, and sticky. It dripped down from your hair, down your face and onto your dress. You looked down to see pools of red flooding below you on the gym floor, and then your head shot up to see Eddie, covered in the same sticky substance with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

Blood? Was that actually blood?! Was Eddie bleeding? Were you? Wait, had someone actually dumped pigs blood on you?

Eddie wiped his face, smearing the substance on his skin and hand and carefully brought it to his face and sniffed it, and then gave it a small lick.

“Corn syrup.” he said and looked at you, his eyes wide in shock. 

“You mean this was a Carrie situation?!” you asked in a loud whisper as the two of you stared at each other. You looked around, and saw the group of jocks laughing and high fiving each other. One of them was holding an old paint bucket. Your body froze, and you couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Those assholes had thrown fake blood on you and Eddie. They won. You fucked up. Eddie did so much for you tonight and you never even considered that the jocks would be smart enough to adjust their plans to account for Eddie being here-

Then Eddie started laughing, like really laughing. It was that genuine laugh that you’d heard a hundred times when the party came up with a stupid plan to get past one of Eddie’s challenges in Hellfire. 

He looked at you, with a spark in his eyes and a grin that was manic. 

His laughter was so contagious, that you found yourself laughing as well. You heard the laughter from the jocks start to die down and turn into mutters of confusion. The whole gym seemed to go silent, and you think the DJ stopped the music but you were laughing too much to care. 

How fucking rediculous was this? It was almost too obvious what they had set up, but you didn’t think they were this unoriginal. How did they even sneak in the bucket? How did no faculty or staff react to this?!

“I guess the Freak is showing up, anyway.” Eddie laughed and looked at you. “Let’s give them the show they want.”

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and started pulling you in. Instinct took over and you gripped at his stained shirt and then your lips met. The kiss was met with gasps and oohs and shouts from around you, but you didn’t care. Eddie was kissing you, and you were kissing him back. The two of you must have looked like a spectacle, covered in fake blood and making out with him in the middle of the dance floor after laughing like maniacs.

“Stop that, right now you two!” you heard a teacher yell, and that’s when Eddie pulled back.

“Feel free to kill me for that later, okay?” That wild smile was still on his face. 

“I think we should run now.” you agreed, deciding that whatever had just happened within the last 30 seconds could be processed later. You could see a few teachers starting to finally take action and start to run over, and the jocks were now scattering. Even though you and Eddie were the victims here, you didn’t really feel like sticking around. Whatever would happen with the school, could wait until Monday.

Eddie grabbed your hand, flipped off the few jocks that were still gawking, and the two of you took off running through the exit doors of the gym, the two of you laughing and cackling like mad. 

“Fake blood!” you yelled as the two of you dashed across the parking lot. “They threw fake blood on us!” 

“They actually spent money to get that much corn syrup and dye!” Eddie laughed, opening the door to his van for you again. 

“Shit, it’s gonna get all over your van.” you said, taking your seat anyway and buckling up. 

“That’s the least worrying thing I’ve spilled in here. Don’t worry about it.” He said, hopping into the driver side seat. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think they had it in them!”

“Eddie, they ruined your new clothes.” You frowned, looking at him. The fake blood was starting to dry to your skin, and you could see it starting to give Eddie’s hair an odd texture in certain areas. 

“They also ruined your dress.” 

“Yeah, but I was never going to wear this again.” you said. 

“And I was going to ruin these clothes anyway.” he shrugged and started the car, peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of Hell. Eddie’s lead foot hit the gas and the two of you were speeding down the road, out of town towards the quarry. 

“Holy shit.” you said, leaning against the seat as the adrenaline faded. 

“I think that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie said, still smiling. “I think the blood really adds to Corroded Coffin’s whole thing.” 

You shook your head, grabbing some napkins from the floor and wiping your hands off. “Shit, do we owe them a thanks now? Should we send them a fruit basket?” 

“Nah, they’ll get what they deserve. A slap on the wrist for pulling this stunt at a school function.” Eddie glanced at you with a wry grin. 

“Right, why do I feel like they’ll get off easy but somehow we’re gonna be the ones in trouble on Monday?” You rolled your eyes and lowered your voice in a horrible imitation of Principal Higgins. “Yes, those two played a harmless prank by dumping corn syrup on you, but you two displayed unsightly behavior in front of everyone in some sort of Hellish ritual-”

“Ouch. I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser.” 

You stopped talking and suddenly the corn syrup felt sticky and uncomfortable. You still hadn’t been able to digest the fact that the two of you had kissed- no, you two had full on made-out in front of the whole student body. Had there been tongue? You honestly couldn’t remember. 

An awkward silence settled over the two of you and you were unsure of what to say. You wanted to tell him that no, he wasn’t a bad kisser at all. You wanted to be smooth and say something like “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention before, how about we try again?”. You wanted to say anything to indicate that you liked it and very much wanted to do it again. 

Instead the two of you sat in the loudest silence you had ever been in as the two of you drove the long strip down to the quarry. You scolded yourself, thinking that saying anything had to be better than saying nothing. 

And yet no words came out.

This was supposed to be a one shot in April. Now it's a three-shot. Do NOT let me write more than three chapters. The third chapter is almost done. There will be smut.

Divider by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @supernaturalstilinski @wonderlanddreamer @princesssunderworld @kores-mun-son-n-more @munsonfiles

@ladysilence @ghcstpyre @avalon-wolf @huffledor-able541 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@i-trash-about-things

[thebrightsilverlining]

P5X and the Importance of Community

There’s something interesting about how P5X is handling confidants. Obviously, I’ll have to wait until it gets officially localized, but there seems to be a running trend in regards to community.

See, X is different from P3,4, and 5 in that the protagonist did not move before the start of the game. There’s no adjusting to some new environment and meeting a bunch of people there. Wonder has lived here all his life. So making friends isn’t about becoming a part of a new place. Instead, it’s a signifier of Wonder’s change in attitude.

Wonder’s whole deal is that he was just kinda coasting through life. As the lyrics of Ambitions and Visions points out: “Act like I don’t care. Why even bother? That’s what I though then. Just another bluffer.” He was a go with the flow guy who couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort whose bitterness and lack of ambition was the reason why things weren’t going the way he wanted in life. A fact that he didn’t really want to admit.

But that changes when he becomes a Phantom Thief and he begins to actually put effort in and start caring. The whole idea of the Phantom Idols is that Wonder’s connection to the Sea of Souls allows him to see the potential in people. To see who they could be. Meaning he’s learning to shed his previous ambivalence and see people for who they really are and who they could become.

This becomes even more impactful, because he’s not in some new place with new people. He’s in his home, with most of the people having already been living there alongside him. So it’s not a matter of the world changing. It’s his perception of it that changes. It’s him realizing that the people he’d written off are actually pretty amazing.

So one of the confidants is his next door neighbor and his mom’s friend. Someone who was always around but he never bothered to really get to know. It’s his mom’s friend and they’re both old, what could possibly be interesting about that? They probably talk about whatever it is middle aged women talk about. Boring.

Except she’s not. Once he starts paying attention he finds out that she used to be a fashion designer. And she was good at it!? Not to mention those photos of her when she was younger. Who knew that Mrs. Tomiyama was COOL?!

And hey, did you know that she also has a nephew? Yeah, he’s only like a year older than you and he wants to be an actor someday. Gonna star on tv in Featherman and make so many people smile. If you’re getting to know Mrs. Tomiyama you should probably get to know him too. Who knows? You might even become friends.

And hey, what about that girl that’s always helping her father with running the local bar? You must’ve passed her by a million times by now and you’ve never spoken a word have you? Did you know that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up? Or that she’s planning to simply stay home instead so she can take care of her father with his back problem?

Or what about Yaoling Li? Did you even know that a college student from China had moved into the neighborhood? Right next to the Fujikawa residence! You know, where Yukimi lives? She’s your age, why did you never even try to become friends? But maybe it’s time to remedy that, especially if you’re both gonna befriend Yaoling, who is still struggling with the signage at the local market.

It’s all about the community. That community that’s always been there, that you just never bothered to pay attention to. The people so unique and varied, with dreams and aspirations and lives so complex you can barely imagine. That you could get to know, so long as you were willing to put in the effort to do so. And maybe, if you did, you might just find your life is better for it.

It’s a concept I find incredibly interesting, and one I really hope is done well in P5X. Because, if so, it might just be my favorite handling of confidants/social links yet.

[not-neverland06]

The Other Woman

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Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader CW: 18+ Summary: He looks like he’s dying, you hope he is. When he finally gives into his disease, you’re taking Lucy and you’re making a run for it.

The sun was bad when you had water and shelter in the trees. Completely exposed and ankles half buried in sand, you think you might die. It would be the preferable fate at this point. You’re sweating so much in your suit that the dried blood from your wound has become wet again. You’re sure the bandages around your thigh are soiled. Anything Lucy’s Stimpak did for you has been undone by the grit and grime coating your body. 

She’s not faring much better than you, trailing slowly along ahead of you. Like yours, her lips are peeling back and paling under the harsh sun. Cooper has already taken all the damage his body can handle. You’re sure he doesn’t even feel the sun under that rough exterior of his. 

You stumble forward, feet tripping over each other as he tugs on your leash. You can’t even be angry at him anymore. You’re too exhausted and beaten down to feel anything right now. But the lack of a reaction only seems to fuel him further. He keeps tugging, prodding, poking, seeing what it takes to get something out of you. 

Sweat is practically bleeding from you. You can feel your skin peeling up and shriveling under the sun’s ruthless gaze. Sand has been steadily seeping into your boots the longer you walk and it’s only irritating you further. Lucy hasn’t once looked at you since Cooper dragged you both out of the old gas station. 

You’d had to be quick about it with the Deathclaw still lurking around nearby. He’d barely given you anytime to wake up. He’d simply grabbed the rope around your neck and ran outside with you, rushing through the old neighborhood until you cleared the Deathclaw’s territory. He hadn’t woken up Lucy or tried to get the dog to come with him. They’d simply followed. 

It terrified you, knowing that the only thing he cared about was you. This dedication wasn’t born from love or care. This was him wanting revenge. Revenge for lying to him and screwing him over. You’d think two hundred years would have been enough for him to just get over it. Self reflect and move on. 

But, no, he’d always been stubborn. It seems like the fallout only made that worse. 

You don’t know how many hours pass before you start to see something other than sand on the horizon. Could be four or eight, you’ll never be able to tell. It all blurred into one miserable memory of nothing but too bright light. 

But eventually, by the grace of God or the universe taking pity on you, buildings start to grow in the distance. They’re all destroyed, the tallest of them half crumbled and the debris spilling across the ground. Lucy perks up slightly at the sight of them, curiosity overpowering her own fatigued state. You do not share the same passion as her. You’d seen it all when it was still standing, wasn’t impressive then, isn’t impressive now. 

If it was a pool of clean filtered water, maybe then you’d be interested. 

Lucy gazes up at the taller buildings, mouth agape and eyes looking glossed over. Cooper moves past her, not bothered by leaving her behind. He knows she’ll follow, same way he knows the dog is going to stay with the head. 

You’re all dogs to him. Just cattle to be herded. He doesn’t see you as human, you doubt he sees anything other than profit and gain. Your worth is measured by your usefulness to him. You don’t know what he thinks he could get from Lucy, you’re sure it’s not good. You know your own fate is going to be slow and horrific. 

You offer him petty revenge. Cathartic and vicarious vengeance on those from Vault-Tec who had wronged him and turned him into the monster he is today. Your value is immeasurable to him, what you offer goes beyond simple bounties or those little vials he keeps puffing on. 

You don’t know what he’s huffing, but you have some guesses. RadAway for one. It would explain how he’s managed to last as long as he has without turning feral. 

He stops, tugging out his canteen and undoing the cap. You know the break isn’t meant for your benefit but you’re grateful nonetheless. You’ve been walking so long you’re sure the bottoms of your feet are nothing but bloody stumps. 

You let your gaze drift as Lucy makes her way back to you both. Your vision blurs and you find yourself drifting as far back into your mind as you dare. You try and find a happier memory to live in so you can pretend for one minute that you’re not as miserable as you are. But Cooper ruins it. 

A sharp, wet sounding cough breaks through the haze you’d created around yourself. You turn your head slightly to stare at him. He’s got his hands braced on his knees, back arching in pain from how hard he’s coughing. You see blood and spittle flying from his lips. Both you and Lucy share a brief look. 

Your eyes dart down to the bindings on your wrist and neck, wondering how far you would be able to make it before he yanked you back. You’re about to tell Lucy to just make a run for it when he straightens up again. He lets out a deep shuddering breath, wiping his chin off with the back of his hand. 

You fix him with an unimpressed glare, “I was hoping you’d choke.”

He smirked and tugged on the rope, yanking you unceremoniously to your feet. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

“You,” Lucy cut herself off as she stumbled over a skeleton. Her face screwed up briefly in disgust before she continued on after you. “You need medicine, right? That’s why you’re coughing.” Cooper didn’t offer her anything more than a bored hum as he trudged along. You tried to look over at her but he was being more vigilant about the rope now that you had mouthed off. 

“If I found you some would you let her go?”

Cooper came to a sudden stop, ignoring you as you stumbled into his back. He turned towards Lucy and his hairless brows lifted up. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed by her boldness or sick of it. “Well, that’s where we’re going darling.” 

He didn’t offer anything else but a sinister smile. It wasn’t much different than his usual ones. His tone sounded ominous, like he was laughing at a joke he didn’t want to share with either of you. Lucy picked up on the veiled hidden meaning of his words and her mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher what he meant. 

He dug his fingers underneath the rope on your neck and you hissed at the contact of the raw sunburnt skin. It only emboldened him as he dragged you forward, tucking you under his arm and forcing you to keep up with his stride. 

You felt slight satisfaction at the small coughs he would try and hide under his breath. But with your ears so close to his chest you could hear him wheeze, feel the struggle each breath caused. Every gasp makes you feel a little stronger. Even though it hurts, you glance over your shoulder at Lucy. Her eyes are trained on him, on each stumbling step. 

There’s a look shared between the two of you. A promise of waiting until he’s weakest to finally escape. You only need him to take a break again and that would be your chance. You could finally get rid of him. You don’t have to wait much longer. 

He leads you both to a Super Duper Mart. Cars have been pushed out of the way, a gate set up around the perimeter and most of the debris cleaned away. You’re assuming this is some sort of base for survivors. But that doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t be taking you anywhere that would take care of you. 

He stops in front of a call box, pressing the button, “Transaction.”

It takes a moment before a staticky British voice answers back. “Yes?” Your brows furrow in confusion. You recognize that voice, you just don’t know how. 

Cooper glances over at Lucy and you finally put together what he’s doing. “Exchange one female, mint condition, for two month supply.” He looked her over, the sweat coating her and wounds she’d acquired over your short stay on the surface. “Near mint condition.”

“Condition requires grading, please send her in.” A buzzer goes off and the glass doors ahead of you slide open. Your gaze darts from the doors to Cooper’s. 

“You can’t-” He cuts you off with a tight grasp on your neck. It's just enough to keep you quiet and immobile. Lucy doesn’t even look surprised, just a subdued anger as she glares at him. 

“You’re selling me?” Her tone is incredulous. This was what Cooper thought was so funny earlier. This is how he gets his medicine, selling people. You’d known that he had changed from being up here, but this was insane. This went so beyond changing for the sake of survival, he looked like he was enjoying it. 

With no hesitation he tugs his gun out and points it at Lucy. She flinches back from it, staring down the large barrel with hesitance. Your attempts at breaking free are useless and draining. The leather of his glove creaks in your ear as he tightens his hold around your neck. 

“Quit your squirming,” he mutters in your ear, “what I got planned for you is much more fun.” You feel your heart drop to your feet and your struggles cease. This is pointless, struggling is pointless. Fighting back against him is pointless. You’re too weak to do anything to him, you’ll just piss him off more. You should just give up. 

He looks over at Lucy and nods towards the doors with a patronizing click of his tongue. “Go on, sweetheart. You got problems out here too, I suggest you try your luck in there.” Lucy looks to you but whatever broken thing she sees on your face is enough for her to sag in defeat. She backs towards the doors, sparing one last glance at you before taking a step inside. 

When the doors close behind her Cooper finally lets you go. The lack of support has you crumpling, you land roughly on the ground and glare up at him. “What’s going to happen to her?”

He spares you a brief glance, sneering down at you. “Diced and sliced,” he empathizes the word with a loud click of his teeth. It takes everything in you to force your spine into steel and be unflinching when he kneels down before you. He prods your chest with his gun painfully, “Your little friend is about to become meat, sweetheart. Ain’t even gonna spare her a tear?”

Your mouth is dry, parched from your long trek in the sun. But you still manage enough spit to land on his cheek. He blinks then blinks again, slow to process what you’ve done. When he does, reaching up to wipe the smear of saliva slowly off his cheek, he huffs a laugh. You don’t see the hit coming until he’s backhanding you down to the ground. 

You groan, pain throbbing in your right cheek, “Fucking dick,” you spit out. He shakes his head and stands back up. 

“I was wondering where that attitude of yours had gone. Glad to see you still got some of that fire.” He glanced down at the call box, a slight cough shaking him as he taps his foot impatiently. “The fuck is taking so damn long?” You’re clearly not meant to hear him. You doubt he wants you to perceive him as weak in any way. 

“I’m sorry,” you glower, “is my friend’s murder taking too long for you?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, glaring over at you with his eyes narrowed and his lips curled, “it fucking is.”

Fucking asshole. 

Fear is a bitter taste on your tongue when he starts to cough again. This isn’t something small that he can swallow down. This is bad, lasting longer than should be possible and making your ears hurt with the way they echo through the air. You flinch back from him when he falls to his knees, hands grasping desperately at his throat. 

He looks over at you, something like a plea in his gaze. Dread boils and bubbles in your gut with the horrible realization that if he turns, you’ll be the first thing he sees. You’re assuming that whatever he takes stops the radiation from burning away holes in his brains. If he goes feral now, the only thing he’ll remember about you is how much aggression and hostility he holds for you. 

You’ll be ripped to fucking pieces. 

He slumps forward, hands clawing at the ground as drool dribbles from his lips. He wheezes, inhaling the red dirt as he tries to get a steady breath in. You fight back the paralyzing fear of your situation and slowly crawl towards him. He doesn’t seem to see you, his eyes glazed over with the primal panic of knowing you’re about to die. 

You reach out and snatch the knife from his waist and leap away from him again, trying to keep as much distance as you can between the two of you. Placing the handle between your knees you start to saw at the rope around your wrists. Your eyes don’t stop darting between his prostrated form on the ground and your bloody hands. You can’t risk keeping your eyes off of him for too long. You’ve grown too weak under the sun. 

If he turns, you won’t be able to fight him off. 

Agonizingly slow, you start to see the rope fray. Only a few more frantic tugs and it unwinds from around your wrists. You drop the knife to the ground, quickly loosening the noose around your neck and ripping it off. 

When you look back over at him you realize he’s gone silent. It only causes more panic to rush through you. The emotion threatens to choke you, freeze you in place and wait for the inevitable. You refuse to let it. Refuse to let him terrify you into accepting your death at his hands. 

Slowly, like you hope he won’t notice you, you creep forward. On hands and knees you drag your body towards him and reach tentatively for the belt around his waist. You groan, using what’s left of your strength to roll him over so you can better reach the gun on his hip. He does nothing but twitch and moan in response, eyes cloudy. 

You unzip the top of your suit and tie the arms around your waist then tuck the gun in your pants. Your fingers skate across his chest, groping around for any bullets you might find hidden away in his jacket or the bag he keeps across his shoulder. Whatever you manage to find is stuffed into your suit, you don’t pay much attention to what you grab. You’re just trying to get this finished as quickly as possible. 

When you’ve raided him of everything valuable you finally glance over at the glass doors. The one Lucy disappeared behind. He told you that she was going to be turned into lunch meat. He has no reason to lie to you, and you have no reason to doubt what he says. There isn’t much of you that still believes there's good left in him. 

You feel something like grief creeping up the back of your throat, burning at your eyes. But you dismiss it as quickly as it comes. You don’t have time to wallow or mourn. You need to get out of here. Lucy is gone. Crying about it isn’t going to fix anything.

You scoff, so much for her precious golden rule. 

You stand up and turn your back to him, hoping you can figure out a way back to the vault. You still have your Pip-Boy, you might be able to use the map to find your way back home. 

Fuck Hank. Fuck the surface. You were done. You wanted to shower and eat something and feel air conditioning again. 

But nothing up here is easy. 

Something wraps around your ankle and you scream, jumping away from Cooper’s hand and kicking out with your foot. His fingers make an odd cracking sound under your boot and you glare down at him. 

Out of instinct the gun in your pants is drawn and pointed down at him. His eyes don’t betray any surprise or fear. He just looks desperate. Pathetic and desperate. You pull the hammer back and move the gun from his chest to his temple. “I could put you out of your misery right here. Right now. Would you like that?”

He wheezes, barely able to move on the rough ground. Finally, he shakes his head. It’s a small move, but even now he clings on to the desperate threads of his remaining life. You huff an unimpressed laugh and glare down at him. “Stubborn fucking bastard.” You tuck the gun back in your pants and you run. 

You don’t look back. You don’t think about Hank, or Lucy, or Cooper. The people you’re leaving behind once meant something to you. But you’re selfish, and you always have been. Your survival means so much more. 

It’s only when the sun starts to set that you finally find a place to settle down for the night. It’s an old building that seems just stable enough to not come crashing down on you while you sleep. It’s also the only place nearby that doesn’t have the sounds of ghouls or other critters echoing through its foundation. 

You have no water, no food, but at the very least you can finally sit down. You debate taking your suit off, just to check on your wounds. But you figure that you’re better off not knowing the state of your body. All the adrenaline and exhaustion from the sun is keeping you going. You can’t let yourself break the illusion that everything is fine. 

You do what you’ve always done when you try to distract yourself. You let yourself fall down the rabbit hole of your memories and attempt to get lost in them. You should have known the direction they were going to go. 

Perhaps it’s a form of mourning that you start to think about Cooper. You’d assumed him dead or lost to you for years. But actually seeing it happen had opened up a wound of grief you’d thought closed. 

The good memories come first, like they always do when you think of him. The first time you met, the first time he cooked for you. They’re all innocent enough. Remembrance of the man who once was the love of your life. 

And, inevitably, comes that one memory. The one you’d thought buried a long time ago. It usually would creep up on you when you would lay with Norm at night. Alone in the bed you shared with your husband, you would think of that one night. And the yearning would bury the shame. 

You’d once reasoned with yourself that there was nothing wrong with your relationship with him because nothing ever truly happened between you two. It was a lie, a bald faced lie to yourself and to him. Something had happened, something you’d shamefully buried. 

You’d been riddled with guilt after. He was still a married man, a father, and someone you were manipulating and actively lying too. It never should have happened. You never should have gone for drinks with him. You’d known it was a mistake and you’d done it anyway. 

You pick up the handset and try - and fail - not to let your irritation show in your voice. “Hello?” You’d barely stepped through your door and your phone was about to fall off its hook. You don’t know who's calling you, but they must have been at it for a while. 

There’s a breath on the other end and you know it’s him. Isn’t that absolutely pathetic? You know him from the way he breathes. That’s not normal. How much of you is wrapped up and intertwined with him isn’t normal. Certainly not because you’re only meant to be his assistant.  

“Sorry, sweetheart, is this a bad time?”

You want to say, No, it’s never a bad time when it's you. I wished you called me more. I wish you weren’t married and I didn’t have to feel so guilty about my feelings for you. But that would be insane, so you keep your mouth shut and just say, “No, now's fine. What’s up?”

“I had plans to meet up with Seb tonight, but he canceled on me. I was wondering if you’d wanna come out for a little while?”

You should not say yes. This is a perfect opportunity to start setting boundaries within your relationship. Eating dinner and dancing with him was bad enough. Especially considering Barb could have walked in on you two at any minute. 

But, god, are you lonely. You’re tired of coming home every night to an empty apartment devoid of any life or happiness. You’re tired of feeling so gutted everytime you see a happy couple on the street and all you can think about is the married man you’re in love with. And you’re selfish. 

You always have been, since you were little. You used to get in trouble for never wanting to share your toys and being too jealous of others. You supposed, as you got older, the traits stayed but the toys changed. 

You shouldn’t say yes. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The bar is nice, nicer than the ones you’re used to. You should’ve known that when he invited you out he wasn’t going to take you to some crappy little place where the floors are sticky and the music is too loud. The bar itself is a full circle surrounded by a shiny oak counter and nicely furnished stools that don’t have stains from beer spills. 

He’s sitting more towards the corner. It’s a higher end place, the people that come here aren’t impressed with his wealth or fame, because they’re just like him. He doesn’t have to hide here but you feel like you should. 

You’re incredibly out of place in your work skirt and blouse. It's something cheap from an outlet store that you got out of a bargain bin. It doesn’t fit in with the finely dressed women in the booths. 

But then he looks over at you, his eyes even prettier under the warm lights above him. When he waves at you, you find that you don’t really care what you’re wearing. You skirt past a couple blocking the doorway and hop onto the seat beside him. 

He smiles at you, but you can tell there’s something weighing him down. A sadness in his eyes that makes you want to reach out and comfort him. Instead, you flag down the bartender and offer Cooper a brief smile. “Sorry Seb canceled on you.”

He shakes his head, tossing the olive from his martini into his mouth. “Did me a favor.” At the questioning look you give him he grins. A real one this time. “I’ve got much better company now, darling.”

You resent the heat that flushes in your face. You don’t want to feel like a crushing school girl, you’re a grown woman for god’s sake. But he just brings something youthful out around you. Replaces what your soul-sucking corporate job has stolen from you. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Howard.” 

You expect him to give into the usual routine. A bit of playful banter to get rid of the tension and then you two can talk like normal. You don’t expect his hand on your thigh and the way he leans in to whisper in your ear, “I think it will get me everywhere, sweetheart.”

It catches you off guard, the boldness of his words, his completely public display of affection. Everyone knows you’re his assistant, you’ve been in enough photoshoots with him at red carpets. Admittedly, more than you should have been in. 

But then you look up, and you really take in the place that you’re at. The bar is well lit, but the booths in the back have dimmer lighting. It makes it harder to see the people who sit there. But you recognize them well enough. Figures with wives and families that are recognizable to the public’s eyes. Except the women they’re with aren’t their wives. 

You connect the dots slowly, not quite wanting to believe what you’re seeing but also desperate for it. You can’t lie, a part of you is disappointed in him. Most of his charm, his attraction comes from what a good man he is. How devoted he is. The fact that he invited you somewhere like this makes you feel cheap. 

You feel like one of those women who purposefully goes after married men. But that had never been the plan and that had never been your type. Cooper was such a rare exception to your usual dates and interests. Now you just feel dirty. 

But it also doesn’t fit who he is at his core. You look over at him and finally get a really good look at him. His hand is on your thigh, there’s a suggestive undertone to his voice. But it doesn’t fit with his face. His eyes are too sad, the stubborn downward pull of his lips gives away his mood and cracks away the mask he was trying to wear. 

You shift minutely, dropping his hand from you and turning to fully face him. “What’s wrong with you?” There’s no point in dancing around the question. 

His eyes widen and he moves away from you, laughing slightly as he does. “You know me better than I give you credit for.” You give him a bored hum and motion for him to continue. He sighs, ordering another drink, and finally speaks. “Barb took Janey to her mom’s for the week.”

You try to keep your expression neutral but you know you’re failing miserably from the self-deprecating laugh he lets out. Things have been tense between them, it’s gotten worse ever since he went to one of those Hollywood against Vault-Tec meetings. You don’t know what he heard there, but it was enough to make him a lot more hostile towards your company and Barb by extension. 

You can’t count how many of their fights you’ve accidentally interrupted lately. 

You should feel sympathetic towards him, but it only pisses you off. You scoff and he frowns, surprised by your reaction. “So, what, Barb wants a break and you decide to fuck your assistant? Seems a bit cliche, even for you.”

He looks slightly dumbfounded by the suggestion. He shakes his head but at your continued glare finally looks around and realizes the message he’s sent across. He groans, head falling into his hand. “That is not what I wanted, sweetheart.” He looks up at you with a sheepish smile but it almost feels condescending. “I just wanted to talk somewhere that I knew we wouldn't be photographed. You know ever since that article about us we have to be more careful in public.”

You feel embarrassed, and you shouldn't. Anyone in your position probably would have assumed the same thing. That he had less than honorable intentions by bringing you here. But there’s a needling feeling in your gut, questioning the hand on your thigh and the way he’d looked at you. You try and dismiss it, passing it off as him just being too friendly when he has a couple drinks. 

You let out an embarrassed groan and turn away from him, “I’m sorry, I just assumed-”

He laughs, taking your hand in his and turning you to look at him. “It’s alright, I probably should have thought this out before I called you over.”

You hadn’t realized the bartender had brought you a drink until Cooper slides it over to you. It’s a peace offering and an apology when he clinks his glass against yours. You smile at him and take a sip, finally letting yourself relax. 

You should never relax. Ever. You make the worst damn decisions in the world when you’re not tense and constantly aware of everything around you. 

Honestly, you blame the bartender. He kept bringing you and Cooper more and more drinks until everything was covered in an alcohol induced haze. You’ve never made good decisions tipsy.

Apparently, neither does Cooper. 

You don’t feel like yourself, and he doesn’t feel like him. You’re not the lying bitch who's going to ruin this whole thing in a few months. He’s not Cooper Howard, the husband, the actor, the success. He’s just Cooper. 

Your Cooper. 

You giggle as you stumble into the hotel room. Because of course this place has a hotel above it. Probably for the same salacious reasons you’re about to use it for. His hands are grasping at your waist, rucking your shirt up until it’s untucked from your skirt. 

Your fingers are frantic, rushed and uncoordinated as you tug at the buttons of his shirt. He chuckles against your lips as you break away from him. Frowning down at the impossible shirt. Gently, he eases your hands away from him and undoes the buttons himself. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when he takes his shirt off. You knew he had to keep in shape for his roles, but you didn’t expect him to be so fit. He doesn’t let you admire him for long, not ready to be parted from you even for a second. He surges forward, hands clasped tightly around your cheeks and lips devouring your own. 

You fall into the kiss, nails digging into his shoulders as you open your mouth to him. His hands find the bottom of your shirt, gently tugging it up. But you don’t want gentle, don’t have the time for it. Because in the back of your head there is a little voice whispering how wrong this is. 

The longer you wait, the louder it gets. You take your shirt from him, yanking it up and over your head. Then you shimmy out of your skirt and reach for his belt. If he’s surprised by the speed in your movements or the desperation of them he doesn’t say anything. Which you’re grateful for. 

You’re just drunk enough for this to be okay, but if you sober up anymore you’ll leave. You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to feel the guilt. You just want to feel him. 

There’s a brief trip as you both stumble over the clothes littered across the ground. And then you’re falling onto the bed, into each other. You don’t stop kissing him, just beckon him closer with open legs and guide his hips towards yours. 

He parts from you then, backing off and looking like he wants to say something. But you don’t let him. You surge up to kiss him again, drawing him forward until he’s thrusting into you. There’s a stretch, it borders on uncomfortable. But you’ve been waiting for this for so long, for him, that you don’t need much more than him kissing you to be ready. 

Still, the feeling of him inside you borders on too much. All of it is too much, too overwhelming. This aching need inside you to consume him, have him, is nearly painful. It’s almost like a punishment for yourself. You don’t deserve something pure and good and untainted. You deserve this. Deep thrusts that cause you to keen and wince. 

He mumbles praises against your neck, how good you feel, how long he’s wanted this. It almost makes you want to cry. And you don’t know why. You don’t know why this is affecting you so much. But you can’t listen to him anymore. You can’t hear how good you feel when all you feel is dirty and desperate. 

You kiss him again, so you don’t have to look at him or hear him. You just picture yourself being somewhere else. Somewhere where this whole thing isn’t so horrible and you can be happy with him without feeling guilty. 

Your brain numbs, gives into the gentle motion of him moving inside you. The pain disappears and the pleasure builds slowly. In your toes, traveling its way up your legs and squeezing around you until it explodes into something blinding. You let the wave crest and wash you away, forgetting all about what was wrong in the first place. 

You must have fallen asleep at some point. When you wake up, it’s still dark outside and there’s something heavy wrapped around your waist. Your head pounds from the lingering buzz of alcohol that’s quickly fading. 

You look down at Cooper, how peaceful he looks resting against you. You feel something deep and aching building in your gut. You don’t know what it is. Desire, pain? It doesn’t matter. You choke on a sob, covering your mouth so you don’t wake him up as the tears start to pour. 

What the fuck did you just do?

You’re snapped awake by the sound of cussing. Your hands go to the gun resting on your waist but it’s too late. Four men surround you. You tilt your head, taking in their outfits and frowning. Where the hell did they get deputy outfits? Did they raid a Halloween store or something?

The mental image is enough to make you laugh and they don’t take too kindly to that. One of them kneels down in front of you, scowling. “Yur under arrest,” the accent is heavy and only makes you laugh more. 

“Yeah, on whose authority, Spirit Halloween?”

He rips his glasses off and you curl into yourself from how hard you laugh. He glares at you through crossed eyes, “The government.” You're still laughing when they tie a rope around you. Maybe you’ve finally lost it. 

The sun got to you and you’re having a heat stroke. Because even though you’re going from one captor to another, you can’t stop laughing. And it’s not pissing them off anymore. If anything they’re starting to look scared. 

But you can’t bring yourself to care. There’s a manic feeling rising in your chest, ripping through your sternum and suffocating you. You want to cry, you want to laugh or rip out your hair. You don’t know what's happening or what's wrong with you. But clearly they don’t want to deal with it. 

One of them comes up behind you and hits you with the handle of his pistol. There’s a sharp pain and then everything is black. 

“I could leave you here.” Lucy scoffs and glares down at him. It’s hard to hear her, everything around him is swimming. His heart is beating so frantically inside his head he’s sure it’s going to explode. “I should leave you here, after what you did to me.”

She glances around and seems to finally realize her little friend is missing. “Where is she?”

He’s got nothing for her but a wheeze, it’s all he can manage to get out. He’s fighting right now to stay sane. To not see her as anything more than meat or food. She sighs and kneels in front of him. In her hand are three vials of everything he needs right now to live. 

More drool dribbles from his lips and he tries to reach for them but his hand just twitches. Lucy places them in front of his face and stands back up. “Golden rule, motherfucker.” 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

It’s ironic that that’s what saves him. Her goddamn golden rule is the only thing to keep him tethered to the world of the sane. 

He takes in a deep rasping breath. He forces any strength he has left into his arm and slowly drags it across the dirt. The process of moving is painstaking and nearly futile. He’s at the point of desperation where his body is no longer cooperating with him.

Eventually, he manages to shuffle the vial into his inhaler. One is enough to get his breathing regulated. He needs all three just to get his fingers to twitch when he needs them too. He finally manages to scrape himself off the ground. 

Dirt has buried itself into the grooves of his skin, caked in further by his own drool. He’ll feel disgusted later. Right now, his legs are moving on pure instinct to where he knows more vials wait for him. 

He’ll think of you later. Of your escape. What he’ll do with you will all come later. As soon as he’s had just a little bit more medicine and numbed his brain with other illicit substances. He doesn’t want to think now. Doesn’t want to consider what would have happened if it had been his fate in your hands and not Lucy’s. 

When he wakes up it’s alone. Sun peaks through the curtains and he moves his hand blindly across the bed. When he doesn’t feel anything but a cold sheet he sits up and stares at the spot you once inhabited. 

There’s still a groove where you’d laid, a wrinkle in the sheets is the only sign that you were ever here. He sits up, looking around the room. There’s a little bit of hope that maybe you were just in the shower or hiding somewhere for some odd reason. 

You’re gone, though, clothes picked up off the floor and heels no longer by the door. He sighs, rubbing his chest to soothe the ache. He shouldn’t be disappointed. He should be ashamed. He should be disgusted with himself right now. 

He can’t be, all he feels is this deep aching sadness that he didn’t get the chance to wake up next to you. The drive home is lonely, almost shameful. 

He’d paid for the hotel room, he couldn’t look the man in the eye as he did. All he could think about was you, sneaking out. Running away from him. Why? Were you ashamed?

It was his fault. He knew what he was doing when he invited you to this place. He knew what it meant. But Barb had left and he was lonely in the too big house. He’d just wanted to see you because he knew it would make him feel better. And it did. 

You always made him so much happier. He just doesn’t know why you would leave like that. He gets home, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door and walking into the kitchen. He’s got a lingering headache from the drinks last night and a pain in his stomach from not eating anything. 

He knows he shouldn’t, it’s too early in the day, but he pours himself another drink. He doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know how to get you out of his head and the taste of you off his tongue. 

The phone rings beside him and he jumps for it. Maybe it’s you, apologizing for leaving and explaining there was an emergency. Or maybe you’d just left to get breakfast and returned to the room to find him gone. 

“Coop?” His stomach drops and he lets out a heavy sigh. 

There should be some sliver of anxiety that it’s his wife on the other line. He should be worried that she’ll hear the guilt in his voice and know something is wrong. But there's only stark disappointment that it isn’t you. 

He hums, not enough energy to try and speak with her right now. “I’m coming home early. I want to talk, I want to work this out.”

No, she doesn’t. She just wants to keep him under control. She realized if she’d strayed too far that the leash would loosen. He doesn’t bother responding, just hums again then hangs up. He needs to shower and get rid of the smell of your perfume on him. 

He’s reluctant to do it, wanting to hold on to the last bit of you he has. He sighs, runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. 

Why would you leave?

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[sentientfunfetti]

What if reader gave dollhouse!Wally a cute little box with a clay heart inside it? Like, "here's my heart, for you" kinda thing.

“giving you my heart” a dollhouse! wally/reader drabble

(dollhouse!wally and his au belongs to @/itskorrychang on twitter! go support them!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

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it had been a few weeks since you and wally had been seeing each other. time seemed to move a bit slower in the neighborhood, but you associated that with the bliss of being utterly comfortable where you were. when you had moved to the neighborhood, you were off-put by how quiet it was. from what you were told it was a bustling community full of games, jokes being told, pies and other baked good being baked and other types of fun…

but, when you arrived it was quiet. too quiet. it was unnerving say the least.

then you met the only resident. wally darling. as eerie as he was there was always a level of endearment to it. wally seemed harmless, just a tad socially inept. on your first day he invited you over for tea in his home, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the rows after rows of dolls he had.

“oh…those? i made them myself…”

he said it as if it wasn’t a big deal. his level of craftsmanship wasn’t lost on even you, who had no idea how to make anything like that. they were so pretty…and he seemed to appreciate your enthusiasm and compliments, even going as far as to make one of you. most people would have found that creepy…especially with how many details of you he had captures on such a small base, even going as far as to point out his favorite ones.

least to say, you were swooned. head over heels for him, and you wanted to show your appreciation for both his hospitality and for you to express you feelings for him. your crafting skills were…limited least to say. the only thing you could wrap your head around besides from drawing was clay, and so you spent all night making a heart shaped…object…for wally, even going out to find a cute box to paint over for the heart shaped ‘thing’ to be held in.

looking down at the box in your hands as you make your trek to wally’s house, you couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about how he’d feel about it. there was no doubt about it; wally’s skill level was leaps and bounds above your’s, so that left one question: would he even accept your gift? you could only hope not.

…you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off of it like most people are able to.

pushing all of that aside, you were already at his doorstep seemingly within a blink of an eye, and now all there was to do was knock. you lifted your arm up stiffly and knocked.

“coming.” he announced through the door, and you heard his footsteps approaching. you jumped when he opened the door, his usual lax smile on his face. you quickly hid his present behind your back without thinking. “ah, neighbor. you’re a bit early today…” you smile the best smile you could muster and giggled. “well, i wanted to come and see you early this time! i hope that’s okay…” you watch his lazy grin grow and your face warms. despite you at first being apprehensive to him, you quickly found out that he was just as kind as any other person.

“oh, neighbor. you know that my doors are always open. all you need to do is call or knock and if i’m able, and available, then you’re always welcome…” he responded lowly, standing in his doorway. his words were sweet, but they did nothing to soothe your already growing anxiety. it bubbled up in you just like before. “…thank you, wally…i really appreciate that.”

he responded with a nod, before stepping aside and motioning for you to come in. “anything for you, lovely.”

the pet name made your heart swell, as you stepped inside, making sure to angle yourself so that he wouldn’t be able to see the box you had in your hands. you hear the door click closed, the lock following. he turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “…neighbor…” he put a hand on his face, amused with the fact you were so obviously hiding something behind your back. “what’s that you’ve got there…?” he inquired, pointing, and you felt yourself shrink, your eyes shifting to the floor.

“o-oh…well…uhm…” his gaze was intense now. he was looking for your answer in your body language due to the now lack of eye contact between the both of you. “yes, precious?” he urged you to continue, leaning down a tad to be eye level with you. your eyes were glued to the floor, however. after a bit of silence, you suck in a breath and tap your foot on the floorboards underneath your feet. you stay silent for a moment, the only thing filling the silence is the sound of wally’s large grandfather clock ticking away every second you weren’t speaking. “i…i uhm…made you something…” you finally mumbled under your breath, your eyes flicking up to him for a moment.

“what was that, dear? i couldn’t quite hear you. you were mumbling.” you couldn’t tell if wally was teasing you or being serious. he did have a tendency to do that accidentally…only occasionally doing it on purpose when he realized what he said had affected you. he stood back to his original height and waited for your response, his intense gaze still on you, making you feel just a bit smaller than usual. you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i made you something, wally.”

“is that so?” his smile widened, and he outstretched his arms. “can i see what you’ve made me? if you made it i’m sure it’s lovely.” you shake your head, and take a step back, chewing on your bottom lip. eyes back on the floor. “it’s not that good, really. it’s really not as good as the stuff you make so…”

“…so…what, precious…?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice you couldn’t quite place a finger on. you knew he probably didn’t mean for it to startle you, but you felt yourself shrink into yourself just a bit more at it. wally seemed to notice, and you watched his shoulders lax. he quickly corrects. you forget that he had an edge to him at times. that’s what being alone for so long will do to people, you think.

“it’s alright. really. i’m sure whatever you’ve made me is just as nice as you are. as nice as you have been.”

you look up and into at his red orbs and let out a bitter chuckle. “you’re only saying that because you’re curious.” you respond, raising an eyebrow at him. he shrugs off your accusation with the same smile as before. “can you blame me? my favorite neighbor—“ only neighbor. you don’t correct. you don’t dare. “— visits me with a gift, and now doesn’t want me to see it? who wouldn’t be curious?” dammit. he had a good point. you were stumped, and running out of energy to fight, so with a sigh you revealed the small box from behind your back. your face burned as soon as you saw wally’s eyes train on the small box in your hands. he hummed, before taking it away from you, your arms falling limply to your sides as you counted away the seconds until doomsday.

…okay…maybe doomsday was a bit overdramatic…but if he didn’t like it you would most definitely be thinking about that for the next few weeks. definitely. you mentally crossed your fingers, and let out a weak ‘surprise’ as you watched him open the box, his intense gaze fixing onto the smaller object inside.

he was silent. dead silent. so silent in fact that you were sure you didn’t even see him take another breath in. his chest stopped rising and falling as his intense gaze softened for a moment. “…see? i told you it wasn’t as good as the stuff you make—“ your hand clamps around your forearm for comfort as your shift.

“gods, i’m sorry wally—“

“…oh…neighbor it’s…this is…!” he looked up at you from the box in his hands with glazed over eyes. tears threatening to spill. he looked back down and plucked the small heart shaped clay piece out of the confines of the box and let out a shaky breath. “…it’s…it’s perfect…” he moved over to the table next to the front door and deposited the box in order to hold the heart in the palms of his hands, as if it was the most precious gem. as if it was made of glass and one drop would threaten to break it. you stood there…confused…almost shocked.

“…it is…? i mean i just like—“ you immediately begin to backpedal. you had never seen wally so passionate before except a few times, so this was almost scary. you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off the damn thing, much less make the shape look uniform.

“yes. yes. it’s…it’s so cute…and…you made it for me? did you really, neighbor…?” wally asked, looking at you with a warm smile. “it’s wonderful. thank you. you even put my initials on it…” he outstretched a palm and pointed to the small detail, utterly infatuated. sometimes you forgot his eye for small details. you felt like a ant under a magnifying glass. studied.

you laugh and blush, rubbing the back of your neck. “oh…well. ya know…didn’t want it to get lost…!” at that, wally let out a warm chuckle, and a sniffle, regaining his composure as he continued on. “well, i assure you neighbor, the detail is appreciated…and i won’t be losing this anytime soon.” he took a step closer.

“…no…in fact…i’ll be keeping it close. as close as i can…” his voice was hushed, his grin wide and his eyes narrowing with it. you swallow thickly, face red. was he talking about you…or the gift? stars, which one was less likely to make you explode? “i’m…i’m glad.” was all you were able to muster out. wally didn’t miss a beat, however, leaning a bit again to catch your gaze, gift still in his hands. his hand went to cup your cheek, and you swore you could see a glint in his eye. “why are you so red, precious? aren’t i supposed to be the flustered one here?” his thumb stroked your cheek. yep. he was definitely doing it on purpose this time. you huff and put your hands on your hips. “listen here, if this is how you’re gonna react every time i give you a gift, this may be your last one, buster.” you turn your back to him and begin to walk towards the dining room to have a seat, pulling away from his touch, but the ghost of it was still there.

“precious.”

he called out, and you turned to see him now holding the heart in-between his thumb and forefinger to where you could see it; a mischievous glint in his red eyes. you shuddered and narrowed your eyes at him. “…what…?” you spat playfully.

“…was this you giving me your heart?”

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

thank you for the request, neighbor! it was such a sweet one. i really enjoyed writing this one.

i also have a few things to go over, actually:

firstly, i’d like to thank you all for the requests and the likes and the follows! i’m really surprised i’ve been getting the attention i’ve been getting. thank you all for that.

secondly, i’d like to ask for a few things if that’s alright.

1) reblogs. self explanatory. likes don’t really do anything for me traction-wise as you may or may not know and i’d like for more people to be able to see my things!

2) can you all pretty please be more specific with the things you’d like for me to write? if you just send me a prompt and not specifically state that you’d like headcanons, or a drabble then i have no idea what you’d like.

3) more feedback. i want to grow as an author so criticism is of course encouraged and welcomed.

besides from that, ill be working on my reboot wally fanfiction over on ao3 and the requests i have lined up for me at the moment. thank you guys for the support. it means a bunch./gen

[miasbby]

indefinitely ours.

(teacher!reader x teacher!Ellie x Abby)

summary : You're not willing to date nor looking for anyone, but Ellie Williams, the art teacher working in the school that hired you a year ago, is making you seriously doubt that decision. With her flirting, praises and constant touches, you're all but ready to give up and ask her out. That is, until you meet her girlfriend, Abby, who to your greatest shock seems very… curious about you.

word count : 7.2k (sorry)

note : this is my first fic in the tlou fandom ever, so it'll hopefully be good and i hope the characterization is okay! i wrote this to practice writing shorter fics and failed.... it probably won't get a part 2 but who knows!

warnings : smut with a bit of plot, female anatomy reader, occasionally mean!ellie and mean!abby but they love you<3, light objectification, degradation and exhibitionism, mention of anal, alcohol use and light intoxication, sub!reader, consent is respected but there’s a few bold moments, bit of a housewife kink, crying from overstimulation, threesome.

●○●○●○●○●○●

An ordinary life is not what most aim for, but you have to be honest in that regard: there’s nothing you’ve craved to achieve more than the simple peace of life, a peace often found in modesty yet sought in extravagance. 

The primary school you joined last year has fulfilled that goal in more ways than one, allowing you the safety of a job you spent years dreaming of, a kind group of colleagues that have befriended you ever since you first arrived, and a class made up of the most adorable group of pupils, all eager to learn and earn the good graces of their favorite teacher judging by how the blue of your classroom’s walls are now entirely hidden by drawings. It’s on the outskirts of the city, in a cute area where prices had not soared just yet when you first bought a house, and the neighborhood couldn’t be more welcoming. 

Your time is well-spent: between preparing lessons, finding original ideas to keep a hyperactive group of six years old entertained, taking care of the renovations your new house still requires, and caring for a vegetable garden you did not expect to grow so well, it’s safe to say that you don’t have much time left for anything else, and that includes a relationship. You haven’t been looking, really, happy to settle down on your own until life picks up a slower rhythm and to make friends rather than losing yourself in back and forths. Your previous relationships were never particularly fulfilling and often ended up being on and off until you got tired of the uncertainty. You’re done with all of that. 

The only person that could make you doubt the choice of celibacy, however, currently has her back turned to you, rummaging through a tiny box of chalk sticks on her desk. The kids are out at lunch and you know she tends to eat on her own in here instead of the break room where all of the teachers often meet up. Of course, you only chose to come get her because she’s been a good friend, not because of any ulterior motive…

“Planning to stay hidden in there for long or are you going to come out and eat?”

Ellie doesn’t even appear startled and you wonder if she could somehow sense your presence by the door. She throws the tiny, useless pieces in the trash, reminding you to filter through your own box of it, and turns to face you with that eternally smug smile, leaning back against the side of her desk. It’s a mess, but that’s not surprising coming from Ellie. Whether it’s because she’s the art teacher in charge in the school or because that’s simply in her nature, you’re not sure, but you know to no longer be shocked by the sight of paper and paintbrushes thrown randomly on her desk. 

“Planning on distracting me for much longer or is that gonna stop at some point?” she answers back. “You can’t come in here looking like this and seriously expect me to think of lunch.” 

And that is exactly why Ellie is making you reconsider your opinion on dating. 

If it weren’t for the constant light flirting you still don’t know how to read into, you think that handsomely sweet face would have convinced you anyway. It’s not that Ellie is your style, it’s that you’re convinced no one on this planet could be more attractive to you. Today’s look isn’t helping either: that opened cargo shirt barely hides the simple white tank top she must own in four identical copies and doesn’t do much to conceal the tight, sculpted lines of her arms, blues veins running down to paint-stained fingers. 

Oh, if only you could stop thinking about how they’d feel dipping into the heat spreading from your clit down to your entrance, filling an emptiness that rings between your legs as much as it does in your heart. Unfortunately, such luck cannot be granted to you. Not yet, and perhaps not ever. 

“You’re not flattering yourself out of coming with me.” You slide your hand down to the doorknob and motion for Ellie to follow you out, but she shakes her head, grabbing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Sorry,” she says, smile dropping with hesitation before she continues. “The girlfriend forgot her lunch at home and I’ve gotta go get it for her. But I’ll see you tonight, we’re still grabbing drinks with the team, right?”

You blink, cheeks straining from the efforts required to keep your smile up even as it turns dishonest, and try to make sense of the word she just uttered, any heat in your belly extinguished by an ice storm. Did she say girl friend or… girlfriend? Why would anyway refer to their friend that way, though… Stop lying to yourself, you got the meaning right on the first try. 

Your heart does not break per se, but it skips a few beats you’re incapable of missing. In the few months you got to know each other, Ellie never mentioned a girlfriend nor did she introduce anyone to you. 

Well, there goes your only temptation for a relationship. Celibacy it will have to be.

“Of course. See you tonight.”

If Ellie notices the light dim in your eyes, she doesn’t show. 

—

That evening, you hesitate until the very last second about going home and finding a new show worth obsessing about or going out as promised. Ellie doesn’t give you much of a choice, however, when she shows up in your classroom right after the last student filters out with his father and pulls you out of your seat, refusing to take no for an answer. 

(If it’s the request that convinces you or the strong hold she has on your wrist, you’re not sure. But you still let her tug you to your car anyway.)

The ‘team’ as referred to earlier consists of five other teachers whose classrooms are all sharing a hallway with yours and with whom you spend your Friday evenings in a local beer bar next door, a place Ellie first dragged you all into when you were still relative strangers, to celebrate your arrival. Your usual table is free when you arrive, Mel and Ellie right behind you, and you suppose a beer might be the best way to forget about your stupid little crush and the shame eating at your insides for having taken friendly banter as flirting for months now. 

Overall, the night is fun, and after a few well-placed jokes at your expense, you finally manage to leave what happened earlier behind and enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, whatever superior being out there who’s decided you should, after a year of knowing each other, finally get to know all about Ellie’s girlfriend, is not on your side today. 

“Oh, hey Abs!” Mel waves behind where you and Ellie sit, still somehow pressed up against each other, and your friend immediately brightens up, turning around to face someone. “Have you finally decided to join us? I thought you’d never leave that work of yours for even one night a week.”

“Maybe next week if she forces me to come.” The woman comes into view and immediately rests a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, smirking down at her before her eyes travel to you and stay locked onto your own for one second too long for it not to feel somehow… knowing. “But nah, I only got here to take Ellie home. I bet she drank too much to drive and that none of you would have been able to convince her not to take her car.”

Mel laughs, joined by the others, and even you have to agree on that. Ellie is particularly stubborn on the average day, but she gets even worse after three beers and a few shots. 

“I’m fine, come on… I could drive on my own, a few beers have never killed me.” 

The problem is, she says that while stretching an arm over the booth seat, enveloping your shoulders and tugging you closer to her side, and the only explanation for doing that in front of that literal goddess-looking muscle-paradise girlfriend of hers has to be the alcohol. ‘Abs’ raises a curious eyebrow but her smile never dies, and you look away to focus on the bottle clutched in your hand, guts turning into a mix of nervousness and shame that does not blend well with alcohol.

Abby stays around for a bit. The whole time, her eyes remain on you, taking in the features of your face, sweeping over your figure and translating what you would interpret as unabashed attraction if it came from anyone else. It’s like she’s trying to memorize your face, your body, your soul. Like she means to lay an invisible mark on your heart you’ll feel with every beat, right next to the one Ellie has unconsciously placed there long ago. 

The arm only leaves its place on your shoulders when who you now know as Abby urges Ellie to go, and you leave soon after, sitting in the dark of your car for five minutes before your head clears enough for you to drive. 

That was… definitely something. But you could unfortunately not explain what in any way.

-

The next time you see Abby does not offer any sort of clearer explanation as to why the mood always seems odd around you and Ellie, and particularly so when she’s there with you. 

She comes around for drinks for the first time in months the following week and turns your offer to change seats down, seemingly fine with sitting next to you, her girlfriend on your other side. Her presence warms the hearts of everyone around the table but yours, stressing you out beyond sanity. You know you didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s probably a good thing that you learned of Ellie’s seemingly very joyful and fulfilling relationship now rather than after an attempted kiss or a date proposal. Yet, you cannot help but feel unsure around her - like she knows, like she can read through your heart and flick through its pages until its secrets have been bared. 

Abby never talks to you nor mentions you in her conversations, yet, she’s always got an eye trailed on your figure, always silently insists on you being aware that you’re taking all of her attention. 

And Ellie, well… Ellie has not changed, and that’s probably where the actual problem lies. 

She still smiles at you with that signature smugness you know is only reserved for her girlfriend. She still flirts and teases and touches, still makes comments about how prettily you blush and how well that shirt fits you and you never know what to answer to any of those things. This time again, one of her arms is spread over your shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of Abby’s shirt on your other side, and if anyone were to look, they’d probably think you’re dating either of them - if not both. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and you almost let go of the glass of water you requested earlier when its now familiar murmur tickles your ear. “I like this skirt. Is it me you got it for? I’m sure Abby would like it just as much.”

Poorly disguised shock shines in your eyes but Ellie appears unphased, not even bothering with a glance at where her girlfriend listens to Mel vent about a fight between two of her students. You clear your throat, avoiding the heaviness of her stare, and shake your head timidly, scared to voice out your thoughts or to be heard. The fabric isn’t anything short per se, but it rode up your thighs through the night, and you’re suddenly far too aware of where Abby’s glances might have led to earlier. Ellie’s only response is a chuckle. 

You think that’s the end of it but that’s without counting on the end of the night - when everyone leaves but Ellie insists you stay around some more, and Abby doesn’t show any interest in moving away, her thighs spread and pressing you further into Ellie. The arm behind your back moves and this time, you can’t control the way your body jumps when she places a hand just above your knee, stroking the tight fabric of your skirt. 

“So,” you begin, trying to break the silence. “How long have you two been together?”

Abby takes a swing of her beer and your eyes follow the bulging muscle of her biceps until Ellie reminds you of her presence by patting your thigh affectionately. “Three years now. We met when Abby came around the school to renovate the gym with her crew and ended up moving in two months later. She’s a carpenter.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, interested but also still very much nervous. “That’s definitely helpful to have around at home. How long have you been doing this for?”

It’s the first time you address her directly and the kindness you’re met with feels almost surprising. You don’t think you would be kind to someone your girlfriend is two inches away from touching inappropriately right under your nose, but you suppose you should be glad that’s the case here. 

“Ever since I was a kid, really. Being a carpenter didn’t exactly fit my father’s plans but he always encouraged me anyway when I saw how much fun I had fixing things and building my own. What about you? What got you to into teaching?”

Tension leaves your back altogether when her answer reflects the smile perched on her lips and the mirth shining in her eyes. “Children, really. It started with babysitting and then all I could think about was teaching.”

Abby’s eyes dip down to your lips. “That’s cute.”

“I told you she’s adorable,” Ellie interrupts. “And beautiful too, isn’t she? I knew she’d be your type.”

Your lips part to speak but before a protest can slip past them, Abby nods, smile turning almost predatory. “I’d say she’s your own just as much. You’ve always liked your girls a bit innocent.”

“I’m not-”

“Can you blame me, though?”

Abby pretends to think for a second and gets that knowing look again, reading through the blush spreading up to your ears and the fast ups and downs of your chest in ways you fail to understand yourself. Everything’s going too fast, like a ball bouncing from one side of the court to the other, and it suddenly feels like they’re discussing you, praising you, without even including you in the conversation anymore. 

“No. I think I understand.”

Ellie chuckles, inching her hand higher up on your lap, and she allows the silence to persist for a moment longer before standing up to order another round for you. Abby never looks away. You’re still trying to comprehend what just happened, still failing to make sense of why your friend’s partner is staring at you like she’s considering the interest of throwing you over the table dirty with food crumbs and alcohol spills and flexing those fingers inside of your cunt instead of playing with the tip of her bottle. 

“Oh, you’ve got some crumbs here,” Abby says, eyes flicking down to wear your shirt wraps tightly around your chest. You follow her line of sight, wondering how that could be when you didn’t eat any of the fries they ordered earlier, and find nothing. “Here, I’ll get them off for you.”

Before a word of gratefulness can echo between the two of you, your lips part in shock, a hand positioning itself right above your breast and arching a curious eyebrow, staring into the depths of your eyes. There’s no hesitation in the action, but rather a sort of anticipation you find yourself trapped into. “Is this alright?” she asks, the “Yes,” out by your lips before you can even make sense of what she means.

Deep down, you know what it means. Deep down, you’ve got a feeling Abby might have been familiar with you far before your recent introduction. 

Once your agreement has been voiced, Abby startles you, immediately aiming for your right breast and gripping it with the whole length of her palm. A thumb rubs at soft skin only hidden by the light fabric of your shirt, almost transparent, not thick enough to act as a proper barrier, and you can feel it all - the heat of her hand, its roughness, how it’s thick enough, big enough to effortlessly envelop all of one breast.

It’s the first time her eyes have moved away from the trance they had yours stuck into, her stare dipping down to where she pretends to rub at your shirt, only reminding you of the absence of a bra to truly cover you. Your nipple hardens under her palm and that seems to be the goal because her hand changes sides, repeating the process, teasing and rubbing, the cotton fabric too rough for the sensitive little bud. Your thighs rub against each other, failing to get any sort of release from the pressure burning your cunt, hips almost bucking in a silent plea to be filled up by those very same fingers.  

Abby smiles, still kind, still honest, and shifts her hand only to roll it between two fingers, pulling a wet moan from your lips you fear the people behind you might catch. “See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” And just like that, she pulls away, hand settling back around her beer, leaving you to deal with the wetness soaking your underwear and the blush heating your face, shining like a broken christmas light. 

“Y-yeah.” It’s odd that you even manage to speak when flames circle hardened nipples, driving you into unknown depths of desire, but you’re proud to say you at least manage a coherent sound. “Thank you.”

When Ellie comes back, conversation follows a course far more normal, and if it weren’t for the hooded eyes, the pulsing heat, and the hand claiming its spot back on your lap, you’d think you hallucinated all of the tension. 

The state of your underwear when you strip down before a shower later that night, however, is all the proof you need. Yet, you fail to truly comprehend what happened. The innocence that almost shone in Abby’s eyes as she touched you is impossible to make sense of, and the next morning, you’re no longer sure of what her intentions truly were.

Did she mean to tease you like Ellie has been doing - as a friend, a friend who has a pretty interesting definition of the word platonic but a friend nonetheless? Or was this more? 

You’re not sure, but if anything, you won’t be the one to bring up the question just yet. 

-

Ellie and Abby are coming over to your house to help with the endless renovations you’ve been making. And no, it wasn’t your idea. 

You’ve been avoiding thinking about Abby and how she’s just as illegally fine as who you already considered to be the hottest woman alive, and although ignoring Ellie is impossible, you at least made some progress this past week with accepting the flirting as some meaningless fun. When you complained about the difficulties you’ve been having with painting the ceilings of two rooms and fixing the guest room bed, however, Ellie suggested that they come over to help and, well, how could you turn down such a nice proposal?

That’s how you end up watching them by the kitchen’s window as they relax around a glass of iced tea in the garden, cheeks stained with light grey paint and arms bared, water running in the sink and acting as the background noise to your current fantasies.

The mind owns a power the heart only dreams of having, capable of eternal wanderings uncontrolled by even the strongest wills. 

Yours has not resisted purposeless dreams. Dreams that once involved Ellie, a sweet craving for what could perhaps come to exist in the realm of reality - a craving for late-night guitar sessions and paintings in bold colors, for rough palms to sculpt your heart into submission and teasing smirks wiped away by kisses. Dreams that now involve someone else, a person you have yet to truly understand but who seems to perfectly fit a puzzle from which you did not believe a piece lost. Her body rings with a rigidity that’s a lot more pronounced, yet her heart appears softer, willing to lead you further into the depths of a euphoric swamp. 

A blurry motion startles you out of your thoughts and you blink to find the water is still running, the time still passing. Ellie is waving at you and Abby is staring with a raised eyebrow of curiosity. 

You smile, waving back, and turn off the tap. 

Fantasies are just that, unfortunately. You’ll have to make do with your imagination because it seems Abby isn’t intending on repeating what you’re getting more and more convinced was meaningless teasing anytime soon.

-

They spend the next weekend at your house too, fixing broken cupboards and a tall wardrobe you couldn’t figure out how to close fully, helping with the garden and any heavy objects you need to move around. 

It comes to a point where you decide that if you can’t have either of them, then dreaming is fine. The only problem is that you end up doing that a lot, and getting caught is inevitable. 

“Could I borrow your shower?” asks Ellie once the day reaches its end, the sun freefalling on the horizon. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” Abby has fetched a chair for the same reason but you know how much Ellie like to sit beside you. Her girlfriend’s presence has not stopped the oncoming stream of cuddles she requires from you, and you’re more than happy to be held, touch-starved since the end of your last relationship. 

“Sure. I’ll get the food ready.”

You stand from the couch to head for the kitchen but before you can disappear, Ellie grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, revealing a glistening, tight stomach in what feels like a slow motion to you but is surely a very normal pace for anyone else. The fabric slides off her shoulders and gets thrown straight to Abby’s face but your brain is in no way capable to register anything but newly revealed skin and soft curves hidden under a white sports bra. 

“Feel free to join me,” she adds, teasingly, and you know it has to be directed at Abby who, it seems, is just as affected as you are judging by the darkened gaze she keeps directed at Ellie, but if that’s the case, then you cannot explain why Ellie is staring right at you as she says it before turning around and leaving for the bathroom. 

It’s that gaze you see once they’re gone that night, writhing on top of your bed, covers thrown to the floor and pillow wet with your spit. It’s that gaze encouraging a second, then a third finger to fit into your cunt, the pressure too much yet so far from what you wish for, from how well you know they would both fill you, breaching past undesired tightness and taking all that you’re willing to give. 

And it’s their voices, blended in as one, whispering praise into your ear and urging you to let go when you finally fall over the edge, tears pooling in your eyes and teeth aching from the marks they’ve left in that poor pillow. 

-

“You know,” you begin, words not slurring but speech clearly affected by physical exhaustion and beer. “I thought you were flirting with me before you suddenly mentioned your girlfriend.”

A chuckle greets you, but you can’t tell if it comes from Abby or Ellie, both of them cuddling on the couch in front of you as you lay on the fluffy chair you bought for decoration purposes but that’s actually pretty amazing to use when sleepy. The night has fallen and you spent a lot of time in the garden today while Abby watched over you and Ellie finished with painting touch-ups, explaining the tiredness numbing your arms and the effects of the alcohol. 

Your eyes remain closed and you shift around when air tickles the bottom of your stomach, your shirt having ridden up to reveal skin. 

“What if I was?” and this time, you know it’s Ellie - sure, because it sounds like her, but also because she’s the one who likes teasing you the most. 

You huff, internally rolling your eyes. “With a girlfriend like Abby, trust me, you were not. You’d be dumb to flirt with anyone else or want to kiss anyone else,” you say, voice barely above a murmur. That second beer should not have been handed in your hand, but Ellie has always been a bad influence and Abby drinks them with little effort. Slowly, you half-whisper, “Bet her lips are so soft.”

Abby laughs this time, reminding you of her presence, but you’re too far gone to care. “I think yours would put up a great fight in a contest,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. “Maybe even win, who knows. I know I wouldn’t mind trying you out.”

“Hey!” Ellie interrupts, “I get to try her out first. I found her. You would want me first, wouldn’t you?”

It takes a while for you to register the question and understand you’re being spoken to. “I think I want the both of you… together.”

Someone’s breath hitches, but you fall asleep before you can find out whose. 

All you remember the next morning is strong arms holding onto the back of your thighs and your back carrying you up the stairs, a pair of sweet lips leaving a kiss on your forehead, and the throbbing traces of a hand on the naked skin of your stomach. 

That must have been a fairly nice dream. 

-

You’re in the kitchen when things truly take a turn you did not expect to happen in reality, breaching the realm of fantasies and fully stepping into your life - your peaceful and joyful life that, as you will soon come to realize, was actually missing two precious souls to reach the desperate form of completion you sought. 

Abby is drying the dishes you’re washing and Ellie is… well, she’s simply being herself, avoiding any sort of chore and whistling in the living room as she chooses what movie you’ll all be watching tonight. The mood has been particularly tense today and this time, you’re glad to say it’s not your fault. Abby has been especially attentive to you, asking about your day, your past, and the shape you imagine your future to take, casually exchanging indecipherable looks with Ellie. They’re more than familiar with your house now yet they’ve never acted more like strangers scared of trespassing. 

If you didn’t know better, you would think of them as almost… afraid. 

Fortunately, the tension left as soon as night fell and you all settled back into soothing habits. At least, that’s what you think, until a shadow looms over your back, blocking the naked lightbulb from shining light on the last plate in your hand, and you realize that Ellie isn’t as busy as she made it out to be. 

“Dinner was great, thanks for preparing all of it again,” she says, supporting her weight with one hand on the countertop and the left one innocently resting on your hip. Her touch is welcomed and familiar, her palm cupping the curve to perfection. “Anyone ever told you you’d make the perfect little wife?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes although you know she won’t be able to see it. “If that’s truly the case, there’d be a lot more people pilling up at my door, or at least one person. I think you two are just terrible cooks in desperate need of a chef.”

Abby shakes her head, nudging you with her elbow as she wipes water from a pack of forks. “You’re not wrong in thinking we’d wife you up in an instant if you wanted, but not because you’d be a great chef.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, flexing her fingers where they rest on your hip. “I can think of a few other reasons. You’d be an amazing mother, for one, and you’re far more patient than either of us deserve.”

“And you’re ready to put up with her stubbornness, so a perfect match, really.” Abby’s comment makes you laugh but Ellie speaks again before you can tease her about her own issues with never doing as told. 

“All of that, and I even bet you’d be such a pretty little thing to fuck.” Your hands freeze on where you’ve just put the plate away, tension seizing unready muscles. You blink, staring by the window, the night turning it into a mirror and reflecting the shock wild in your eyes. For a second, you’re convinced to have misheard. But the silence that follows tells the opposite story. Ellie’s close, suddenly, closer than she was before, and Abby’s hands have stilled as well, her body tight with stress. “I feel like we didn’t thank you properly for all the meals you’ve prepared for us. What do you think, Abby?”

At the edge of your vision, you can sense that Abby has given in and glances at you from the corner of an eye, the sound of her breathing audible, loud. “I think she very much likes politeness, and… it would be rude not to give back after taking so much, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. And what about you, um?” The hand on your hip slowly slides closer to your front before drawing back, again and again, in what feels like a maddening caress. “Do you think we should thank you? Together, I mean.”

Later, you’ll have more than enough time to consider just how stupid it was for you, at that precise moment, to doubt the true meaning behind Ellie’s suggestion. There’s a part of you that yearns for this to be real, for it to feel real, but that part cannot be allowed to exist because it is directly connected to a risk of disappointment you’re not sure you would survive. So, when you reply a breathy little, “Yes,” you don’t actually expect what follows. 

“Good girl.” 

A whine spills past your lips but the reason behind its existence is blurry - is it the praise, vibrating through your lungs and soaking your cunt, or is it the hand that fully slides against your front, rubbing at the seam of your jeans frustratingly right above your heat, the other suddenly palming the curve of your ass and roughly kneading skin? You think you’ll never know for the first moan, but the next one is inevitably due to the second pair of hands finding a place to have some fun of their own. 

“I can feel how soaked you are already,” Ellie says, tone teasing, taunting and forcing past your defenses. “Are you sure you didn’t expect this to happen? How often did you fuck yourself wishing it was us, hmm, pretty girl?”

You think that question should not require an answer, mostly because you’re incapable of giving any, incapable of getting that brain of yours to think and function properly. But Abby doesn’t seem happy with your silence, and she finally decides to remind you of her presence. 

“We asked you a question, sweetheart.” Her voice startles you and your head turns to face her, your heart soothed by the admiration and the awe and the desire reflected in usually tight features. She’s smiling, not that usually kind expression but one that’s almost amused, and you realize you’re in serious, serious trouble with these two. Two fingers seize you by the chin, pushing it upward, and a thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “How empty did you feel thinking about how good we could take care of you?”

“I- I didn’t-” Ellie’s nails sink into the flesh of your ass, reprimanding, and Abby tuts, shaking her head disappointedly. 

“It’s alright,” she adds. “You can be honest with us. There’s not a single time we fucked since you started working here that we didn’t think about you, about how complete you’d make us.” And you’re going to process that at some point, but now will not be that time. Not when she continues to speak, stealing any hope for coherency from under your feet. “We’ll take care of you now, though. Come on, Ellie, don’t be a tease.”

Ellie hesitates, hands still, fingers flexing. They stare at each other with blazing heat in what you think could be a fight for dominance you’re not sure to make sense of when they could just take out all of that on you. 

“You better beg for it.”

When the gearwheels begin to roll again, you lose all sense of reality. 

It’s like they both observed you for months, like they figured out what button to push and with how much strength, what you love and what you’re too ashamed to admit you need. Chills of shame erupt on your arms at the idea, worsened by how smoothly Ellie works your body. 

“Let’s get these off you,” she mutters, lips hovering right next to your nape, inches away from a kiss. “You won’t be needing them around us anymore.”

There’s possessiveness in her words and there’s possessiveness in how fast she slips the button of your jeans off and tugs on the material, slowly, as if to admire what is finally hers to worship and use as she deems fit. Abby growls, watching with a well-trained eye as the tight fabric slides over your ass, and her hand moves down to press against your throat, keeping your back shamefully arched, ass raised for their eyes to feast onto. Your pants end halfway down your thighs, and you have to say there’s nothing surprising about Ellie’s eagerness to get to the source of her desires, hot between your thighs. 

“Abby told me I’d love your ass. Guess she wasn’t wrong.” You expect your underwear to follow next but she decides not to bother with that. “Ever gotten fucked there before, or are you keeping that tight little hole for when we decide to use it?”

“N-never, I- I don’t-”

Abby sighs, shaking her head warningly. “Ellie… focus.”

“Right, sorry. We’ll keep that in mind for another time, you’re ours now anyway, aren’t you? Our pretty little toy.”

You’re all but ready to cry when fingers slides into the front of your underwear, familiar roughness perceptible in the actions, immediately drenched in your desires. Your cunt aches, your core throbs, and your nipples harden. A cocktail of needs that can only be sated by much more than what you’re given. Efficient fingers part your folds before expertly reaching that little bud of sensitiveness at the top of your mound, circling it, pinching it, driving you crazy with it. 

But that’s not what truly seals the first release of the night. That only comes when Abby decides to fully join in on the fun. 

Fingers unbutton your shirt until it parts to reveal the pale pink bra that matches the current dark pink of your panties, only abandoning your neck until the offending lace has been pushed right under your breasts and returning to its hold. You think Abby’s going to kiss you, for a moment, but she’s only reveling in the hot puffs of air slipping past your lips and trying to swallow down the guttural moan that vibrates in your throat when Ellie decides she wants to take the next step.

The hand that had for now been palming your ass travels closer to your center and tugs flimsy fabric out of the way carelessly. You’re not given a warning when the first finger breaches past your entrance, only the sound of Ellie spitting on her fingers for unnecessary lube and that feeling of needing frustratingly more. A whine lodges itself at the back of your throat, and they both laugh, only turning your frustration worse. 

You want to move and fight back, tell them you’re more than capable of taking charge yourself. But there’s something about being treated as a toy meant to receive pleasure, about being admired and taken and praised, about that second finger joining the first and filling the tightness of your cunt, that forces you into a soothing form of submission, allowing every touch and taking them willingly. 

Abby palms at one breast, rolling a nipple under the strong surface in a touch that translates all of her strength. “Is that blush for us, pretty thing? You’re gonna come all over her hand like a good slut already, aren’t you?”

And, it’s cruel, but of course you do. 

Ellie flexes her fingers, increasing the speed of her arm. You can’t see it, but you know veins must shy prettily all over her forearm and biceps must be bulging from the tightness required to fuck you like she does now - like she wants to pull orgasm after orgasm from your core until you no longer understand what it means not to feel the maddening pulse of a release coursing through your body like liquid fire. Abby turns meaner, rougher, pinching a nipple between two fingers and pressing the hand further into your neck, forcing you to follow its direction and standing further on your toes. 

Four hands - teasing, fucking, taking. 

Two souls tauntingly attracting your own into their orbit, sealing an invisible lock around your heart, your body, your being itself. 

And sweet, sweet praise, whispered right under your ear, sending you into a release you’re helpless to control. 

“Ellie, Abby… I-” The moan that travels from your chest and spills past your lips is rough, guttural, connected to the inhuman waves of pleasures rocking through your body. Your cunt clenches around the fingers still thrusting in and out of your center, clinging onto the digits until they’re forced to stop, Ellie breathing heavily in your ear. Abby kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin and laying a mark you refuse to ever cover. 

Your moan ends, broken off in tense breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, and that’s when you catch the groan vibrating Ellie’s throat. It, too, falls into silence. 

Abby swears against your skin, a deep, rough “Fuck,” that sends shivers down your spine. 

“Told you she’d be the cutest little thing to corrupt,” Ellie teases, slowly sliding out of you, fighting against the tightness of your walls and your eagerness to be fucked into a stupid mess. “She’s all proper and shit but I could tell she’d love it.”

“I never doubted you.” Abby says, kissing the lone tear sliding down your cheek with all of the tenderness she can conjure. “Come on, let’s get her on a proper surface.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks when Ellie steps away to allow Abby to take you into her arms, the ground suddenly disappearing from under your feet. The way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like you’re too fucked out to understand a single word, would be shameful under any other circumstance. You know it’s only a game when Ellie takes advantage of finally facing you by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, pushing away a lazy strand of hair. 

They begin to walk toward your bedroom like they perfectly know the way, and your vision turns dark right as they push the door open.

-

“Can you hold her open for me or have you been slacking at the gym?”

Your eyes remain closed, but your brain kickstarts itself into working properly again. You can feel the familiar linen of your sheets under your ass and soft naked breasts pressed against your back, another weight shifting in front of you on the bed. 

The body behind yours shakes in rhythm with a chuckle and you recognize Ellie. “Can you still eat pussy or should we trade so I can show you? Sorry we didn’t plan for your strap, I thought she might have a cock lying around but… we’ll have to take care of that next time.”

“Fuck you,” says Abby half-heartedly, the sound followed by more shifting. 

You’re fully aware again when Ellie grabs the back of your thighs and tugs them, spreading your legs and allowing air to tickle the slick still running from your center, drenched folds bared for anyone to use as they please. 

“Come on, get to it. I know you’re hungry.”

Another pair of hands holds you by the ass and your eyes flutter open, hoping to catch sight of what you once dreamed about. Abby barely spares you a glance before she all but leaps to feast on your cunt, igniting a fire not yet extinguished. 

“Abby… Abby…” You repeat her name like a plea, like a prayer. Your hips buck and trash around, your heart pauses and starts again, your releases come and come again right after each other until you exist no more, a broken toy a kid cannot help but continue to play with. 

Lips circle your clit and suck, pull and deliver rough kisses. An expert tongue gathers slicks at your entrance and spreads it all over already drenched folds, eating rather than licking, a starved woman relishing in her first and last mean. It’s all too much, too soon, too sensitive, and you’re in no way capable of pulling away, four hands keeping you all tight and secure in their hold, a prisoner to your own pleasure. 

“Keep them coming, pretty thing. I want your cunt red by the time we’re done with you tonight,” Ellie murmurs in your ear before resuming the path of tenderness her mouth trailing on down your neck. 

You only find the strength left in yourself to follow that order. 

-

An unwelcomed warmth burns your closed eyelids and you shift, attempting to escape its path. To your great despair, it doesn’t budge. A tired groan echoes in the room and you blink sleep back into your body, limbs stretching and encountering a soreness that did not exist before.

Oh. Right. Last night happened and… it was not a dream this time. 

Fear seizes your heart for a moment and you quickly look around, scared to find the bed empty save for your body. A happy sigh of relief marks the moment you see them - Abby clinging to Ellie’s back, still sound asleep and temptingly naked, and Ellie holding onto your waist, staring up at you with a smug look and a kind smile.

“Morning,” she says, voice broken from sleep. “You didn’t think we’d abandon you, did ya?”

“N-no I… I’m just happy to see you.” You cannot control the dumb smile that widens on your lips, and Ellie’s smirk only widens, her hold pulling you back into the eternal depths of the sheets. 

“We’re not going anywhere, try to get some more sleep.”

It’s a simple sentence, meaningless on the surface. 

Yet, you know it’s more than that. 

It’s a promise. 

A promise for more, meant to suppress the doubts blossoming in your chest. A promise that they’ll be there when you awake again, and again, and again.  

[wandasbbg]

The Woman Nextdoor - mommy!wanda x fem neighbor!reader

Wanda was new to the neighborhood. After a long and painful divorce from Vision, what she and her boys needed was a fresh start. That start came in the shape of four green walls, a white front door, and a fenced in backyard. What she didn’t know was that her new start would also come in the shape of you. 

warnings: 18+ content, sexual themes and language, age gap, blood.

6.6k words, kinda slow burn, it's worth it tho!

this is my first fic, hope u like it :)

Wanda was new to the neighborhood. After a long and painful divorce from Vision, what she and her boys needed was a fresh start. That start came in the shape of four green walls, a white front door, and a fenced in backyard. What she didn’t know was that her new start would also come in the shape of you. 

Sunday Night, two days after moving in.

“Alright boys, I know you’re probably nervous for tomorrow, starting at a new school and all, but just know that Mommy is so proud of you both for being so brave throughout this whole thing. I know we are all going to be so happy here, and I know you’re going to love your new school. I can already tell that you’re both going to have so many friends by the end of this week. It’s going to be good, okay?”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other, and then at their mother. The brothers knew how stressed their mom was, and they both wanted to be strong for her, especially now that their Dad was gone. Despite their fears, they smiled courageously for their mother and nodded in agreement with her sentiments.

“Okay, good. If either of you need anything tonight you know I’m just down the hall.”

Wanda put the boys to bed, kissed them goodnight, and went downstairs. She walked into her unfurnished and undecorated kitchen in search of some wine. She found some, thankfully, and sat down on their new couch in their new living room, in this new town, with everything new. Her worries about the boys and school tomorrow washed away somewhat after her second class. Wanda knew she should stop herself after two, remembering what more than 3 glasses did to her. 

It had been 6 months since Wanda had been touched by another, despite her separation from Vision only being 2 months ago. For some reason Wanda couldn’t name, she poured herself another glass. The boys were asleep and she desperately needed some relief from the copious amounts of stress clinging to her back and shoulders. The red from her wine began to dance its way into her cheeks, leaving her face very warm. That flushed feeling was growing, and it was quickly traveling down her tired body. Wanda placed her glass down on her new coffee table, and unbuttoned her jeans. Her un-manicured nails slid down into her underwear. She felt herself, her own wetness, and a grunted moan slipped out. She threw her other hand over her mouth…and she kept going. Thinking of nothing but that familiar feeling, one she thought she may have lost, came crashing back to her. It soon sent her tumbling over the edge, as she pumped herself full of her own two fingers, using her thumb to play with her clit, breathing heavily into her hand.

Wanda dumped the last sips of her glass in the sink and went to her new bedroom. She laid in bed, drunk, exhausted, and alone. 

Monday Morning, three days after moving in.

“Remember, if at any point something happens you just go and find Ms. Maddie. She’ll help you, and she can call me in an emergency.”

Wanda waved her boys off as they were carried away on the school bus. As she stood there, and the bus disappeared from sight, something caught her eye on the other side of the street. You replaced the image of the bus, as you stood outside and washed your car. Wanda observed your bikini top and jean shorts, looking like Miss Americana. She stood mesmerized as you bent over to dip your sponge deep in the bucket; she watched you flip your hair as you brought the sponge back up to the hood of the red convertible, in what she assumed was your driveway. All those feelings from last night came flooding back and before she knew what she was doing, she was calling out to you. 

“Hi!”

You kept washing, headphones blaring as you scrubbed your beloved car, oblivious to the woman trying to get your attention. Wanda figured you must have not heard her, so she waved her hand and tried again.

“Hello! I’m Wanda, your new neighbor!”

You saw something moving frantically from the corner of your eye, which scared the shit out of you, you being a jumpy person since you were a kid. You quickly turn toward the motion while letting out a tiny yelp. Wanda had made her way over to you at this point, standing a few feet from you and your car. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You took your headphones out to be greeted with the kindest smile you’d ever seen. Quickly collecting your thoughts, you threw your sponge in the bucket at your feet and look back at this new woman. 

“Don’t worry about it, I startle easily. Uhm…My name is y/n. What did you say your name was again?” You asked, wanting to know more about this new, insanely beautiful character who stood before you.

“Wanda,” she breathed out with a certain softness, “me and my boys moved in a few days ago right across the street.”

This woman was absolutely, breathtakingly, painfully beautiful. Her auburn hair was tied up in a loose bun behind her head—effortless and stunning. Her shirt highlighted her breasts so nicely, you had to look, just for a second. She wore jeans that hugged her in all the right places, and low-top sneakers like someone your age would wear. She was gorgeous, and she was talking to you, which meant you needed to pull it together and talk back. 

“Oh! So that’s why I don’t recognize you. I definitely would remember someone like you.”

Wanda smirked at your confidence. She admired you already, and couldn’t help but think how beautiful you were. She also couldn’t help but think of all the things she wanted to do to/with you.

“Thank you y/n, you’re very sweet.”

You blushed at the subtle praise, already realizing what deep shit you were in if this woman lived literally across the street from you. It dawned on you that she could be visible from just the opening of your curtain, and thus, you could be visible to her, too. 

Wanda knew she had a chance here and now, so, with nothing else to lose, she took it.

“Well, we’re still trying to get situated and all moved in. It’s just me and the boys, so, if you have some free time, I’d really appreciate some help with the last of the boxes.”

Without hesitation, and in fear of her changing her mind or something equally as horrible, you answered her inquiry with embarrassing eagerness.

“Of course! I mean, yeah. Yes. Just let me know when and I’l be there. So long as I don’t have work, of course, and before I leave to go back to college, but that’s not for another three weeks, which you wouldn’t know–I’m rambling. Sorry. My answer is yes, Wanda, I’ll help you.”

Wanda reveled in your obvious flustered state from her proposal. She felt good knowing how eager you were to help her—to please her. It sent her reeling. She needed someone in her life like you, even just for a little bit. She craved any kind of love. You were shockingly beautiful and Wanda decided that not only did she need you, but that she just had to have you, no matter what it took. She would make you hers. Lucky for her, after only one interaction you wanted that too. You wanted very much to be hers.

“Perfect. Let me have your phone, sweetheart, so I can put in my number.”

You practically threw your phone at her, your hands still being wet from the sponge. You watched her hands work at the task at hand, typing her digits in, and marveled at her. Her hands, her arms, the way a certain vein popped out as she moved her thumb. You were finding it all incredibly sexy, and all she was doing was using a goddamn phone. You were fucked. She finished and handed your phone back to you, smiling seductively. As both of you held each end of your phone, she looked you up and down, unashamedly. 

“And don’t be afraid to wear this little get up whenever you stop by.”

Before you could answer, Wanda spun on her heels and walked back to her new home, hips swaying the whole way. She swiftly made her way to her own front door. She had gotten

herself quite worked up after the whole interaction and needed to relieve some tension in the privacy of her own home. She left you there, absolutely dumbfounded, just as she had intended. 

Wednesday Morning, five days after moving in.

Wanda woke up soaking wet after yet another dream of you beneath her, screaming out her name. This was becoming a recurring issue, one that Wanda needed to resolve soon. She didn’t have time to help herself out, as the clock told her it was time to wake up the boys for school. Thankfully, they were loving it so far, and Wanda could not have been more relieved. They had even asked to set up a play-date with a new friend they had made. Wanda’s heart filled with pride when she considered the resilience of Billy and Tommy. They were her life. Without them, she’d be nothing. She was so lucky to be their mother. This morning, however, she was wishing she could just have a little more time to herself before beginning her day. But alas, mothering is a full time gig. She got the boys up and ready, driving them to school and dropping them off with a kiss and hug goodbye. When she drove back, she realized that her mind had once again wandered to you. She wondered what you were doing, who you were with, what you were wearing… You were like a drug she swore she would only try once, but of course, became addicted. She hoped you were outside doing something when she got back, or your curtains were open and you were in your room. She wanted to see you, even if you didn’t see her. Luckily, she didn’t need to worry about that. You were outside laying on your lawn with a blanket and a notebook, scribbling in it with focus and beauty.

Wanda parked her car and immediately made her way over to you. Without a word, she sat down next to you. You looked at her, then back to your notebook to keep writing. You were trying to play it cool in front of the woman—nonchalant if you will. After a beat, she spoke. 

“Tell me what you’re writing.”

“And why should I do that?” you teased back. 

“Because I want you to, and you don’t want to make me sad.” She looked at you with some kind of evil puppy dog eyed look, and you were helpless.

“No, I guess I don’t.”

Your notebook contained shitty poetry and prose. Half-thoughts, diary entries, random notes. You had been working on a poem about a woman who looked coincidentally like Wanda, naturally. 

“But” you continued “I can’t. It’s embarrassing.”

“Y/n”, she countered, “I promise it’s not. Please?”

“Why do you want to see so bad anyways?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

“Because I want to know more about you.”

With that, you melted. You would be embarrassed, but maybe she would find it endearing. You considered your options, and realized that you really only had one move here.

“Fine.” 

She reached out to take the notebook from your hands, but you quickly swiped it behind your back.

“On one condition. You tell me something about yourself afterwards.”

Wanda playfully rolled her eyes, but agreed. You handed over the notebook, and she flipped to the most recent page. She read the beginning lines of a poem about a woman, with hair like fire and the magic of a saint. She was shocked. You were writing about her? Really? A smile graced over lips that she could not hide. She knew you’d never admit it was about her, but she also knew that it in fact was, meaning that you found her alluring. Opting to save you the embarrassment, she didn’t let you know directly that she knew, even though she was sure you assumed.

“This is beautiful, y/n, you have a real gift. This woman you're describing sounds beautiful.”

“She is.” You said quietly, looking down at the notebook she placed back in your lap.

“Okay then, I guess it’s my turn.”

You smiled up at her, forgetting your embarrassment with this opportunity to know more about your new neighbor.

“Anything specific you want to know?” she asked you.

“Nope. Tell me anything you want.”

Wanda loved your response. She loved that you were willing to take anything she gave you, clearly just happy to hear anything about her at all.

“Alright, dear. Let me think.”

Wanda looked at the sky, waiting for something interesting to dawn at her. You watched her red hair fall gently across her shoulders as her head tilted up. You saw her eyelashes flicker slightly as a bird flew above the two of you. You wished you could reach out and touch her—feel her warmth.

“When I was your age, I fell in love with a woman.”

Your jaw hit the floor with a loud thud. You had not expected her to say anything like that, yet, you were so unbelievably happy that she did. 

“You’re going to catch flies, y/n” Wanda giggled through her words, amused at your surprise. 

You closed your mouth quickly and cleared your throat. 

“I like girls too, you know. Well, now you know. So what happened? To her, I mean.”

“I met my ex-husband. My whole life I was told I needed a husband, that I would die without one. So, Vision came around and offered me a stability that she couldn’t. I loved her more, so much more, but I chose him. I got my boys from it, so I’ll never regret the decision. I just wish things could have been different. No, I wish I had been different.”

“Wow, Wanda. I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Wanda could see your genuine concern for her in the furrow of your brow, and the twisting of your ring. It warmed her. She hadn’t felt that kind of care in a long time, it was refreshing. It also made her want you that much more. 

“Thank you, honey. But don’t worry, that was a very long time ago. I’m a different person now.”

“Still, you must have missed her sometimes. Or atleast the touch of a woman. I know I would have.’

Your eyes widened at your own boldness. Why did you just say that? You barely know this woman. Before you could offer an apology, you realized she was laughing. You smiled.

“Yes, I suppose I did. I do.” Wanda smiled at you, and continued. “Especially lately now that it’s just me. I do miss the touch of a woman.” Wanda made fierce eye contact with you as she said this, taking a brief moment to look at your lips. She saw your cheeks get redder and redder, blushing at her innuendo. She smiled with you, enjoying the youthful, playful side you brought out of her. Both of you stared at each other. You suddenly noticed her leg touching yours, your pinkies brushing against one another. You looked back up at her, already looking at you. She was smiling, so damn beautifully. You instinctively leaned in. You couldn’t help yourself. She followed your actions, putting her hand over yours. Then…your phone rang. 

You scrambled to pick it up and answer. As you spoke to your friend, calling over a stupid reason, Wanda took your notebook, ripped out a page, and scribbled a note with your pen. While you spoke and gesticulated with some annoyance, Wanda leaned to you and left a light kiss on your cheek. Your words stopped coming out, even though your mouth still moved. You watched Wanda wink at you, then get up and walk back over to her house, without looking

back. You told your friend you had to go. The note Wanda left flapped in the wind. Your heart leapt at the sight, and you quickly read it.

Thank you y/n. You made my day. I’ll see you soon.

Yours, 

Wanda 

Wanda watched you read her note through her window. She saw you clutch it your chest, and fall on your back, still holding it tightly. She giggled like a goddamn teenager. She really liked you, and she really wanted you. She wanted you to be hers. 

Friday Afternoon, one week after moving in.

With two weeks left before you packed up your stuff and headed back to school, you were busy as a bee. This didn’t stop you, as you hoped it would, from thinking of Wanda. You’d developed a habit of checking your phone every five minutes, hoping she would text you and take you up on your offer to help out. You saw the piles of boxes in her garage, just yesterday, still unmoved. You figured it was only a matter of time. You refrained from making too many plans this week, in case she would call or text and you were all unavailable. You’d never forgive yourself. Thus, you stuck to your front porch, or your front lawn, which clearly had worked out for you. 

You continued to do pre-class readings, sort out plane tickets, last minute roommate communications, etc.. Though it was your second year, you were still nervous to go back. Though, not even your back to school nerves kept your gaze focused on your task at hand. You were currently back out on your porch, watching the sun begin to set, as Wanda’s car rounded the corner and pulled into her driveway. The boys flew out of the car and into their backyard, immediately beginning to play with a soccer ball. They were happy to be done with their first week of school, no doubt. Wanda gracefully stepped out of her car and gathered her things. She glanced over toward your house, expecting to find you on the porch. When she was met with your gaze, obviously staring at her before she had looked at you, she beamed. She had been watching you through her window, without your knowledge, and the sight of you overjoyed her. 

Some might find that behavior strange, but she loved it. At night, she’d open her curtains to find yours already opened. She enjoyed watching you as you danced around your room, talked to your friends (she tried to push her jealousy aside during those nights), cleaning up, or, her favorite, when you would touch yourself. She couldn’t wait to replace your hand with your own. There was also a part of Wanda that was still afraid of rejection. Vision had treated her like she was nothing—like she was completely useless. Those words stubbornly remained in her mind, but your beauty compelled her. She shut her car door and waved to you.

“Hey y/n! Mind helping me out with those boxes tonight? I want to have the weekend to relax.”

You couldn’t hide your smile if your life depended on it. You had been waiting for what felt like forever, (two days) and, though unlikely that Wanda would feel about you the way you felt about her, you had to try something tonight. If it didn't work out, you reasoned, you’d be gone soon enough and could forget about the whole thing. 

“Yeah! Right now? Or later?” you asked.

“Now. It’s already 4 and this might take a while.”

You were up and across the street in record time. Your books were left on the porch steps, along with any dignity you had left. 

“Thank you so much y/n, I really appreciate this” she said as she touched your arm with affection and gratitude. Chills spread from her point of contact over your whole body, and all you could do was nod and say “It’s really no problem, Wanda.”

“Good,” she said, “then let's get started.”

What you soon found out was that by “let’s” Wanda meant “you”. At first she started moving some things here and there, but it quickly became you who did all the heavy lifting and Wanda who praised you and asked if you needed anything. You, of course, were happy to comply. 

“Wow, y/n. You’re stronger than I thought. Do you work out?”

You were flattered at the compliment, it sent a certain warmth through you. 

“Uhm, yeah, sometimes. Not too much I guess. I’ve played sports all my life, so it probably comes from there.”

“Hmm” she hummed in acknowledgment “well you sure know how to put those hands to work.”

The box you were holding fell onto the ground with a startle. You were sure she didn’t mean it like that, but you couldn’t help but take it that way. Especially not after so many nights of imagining her saying something oh, so similar. You dropped down to pick up the box, proclaiming apologies for your clumsiness. 

“No, leave it there. I’ve overworked you. The sun has gone down, and there are only a few more things. I can manage the rest tomorrow.”

“But what about your weekend of relaxation?” you asked playfully.

“Your wellbeing is much more important to me, y/n.”

You swallowed at that sentiment, and gave in.

“Well, alright then, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Now come inside with me, I’ll make you some dinner.”

“Oh, no Wanda you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. And, it’s the least I can do. I really have to insist.”

You were learning that there was really no point in arguing with Wanda, she seemed like a woman who knew what she wanted. However, even the woman’s intimidating demeanor could not rid of your playful nature. 

“It depends. How good a cook are you?”

She fake gawked at your question, prompting a giggle from her. You swore you’d spend the rest of your summer trying to hear the sound of her laugh as much as possible.

“I guess you’ll just have to come inside and have a taste.”

Right away, Wanda regained the upper-hand. You liked the teasing and flirting that seemed to be happening.

“I guess I will then” you offered, running out of sly things to say.

The boys walked into the garage, asking their mother when dinner would be ready.

“Half-hour boys. Oh, and y/n will be joining us.”

“Cool! Y/n do you play soccer?” Tommy eagerly asked you.

“Yeah, actually, I do. Wanna play while your Mom cooks dinner?”

“Can we Mom?” They asked in unison.

“Really? You’re not tired of it yet? You’ve been playing all afternoon! And y/n is tired, I’ve been working her very hard out here.” Wanda looked at you and smiled, as if you and her had some kind of secret communication going. 

“Please mom! We’re not tired!”

Wanda sighed and looked at you. “You’re sure?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Wanda watched you run off with her boys, and she felt something odd. She felt the need to care for you, to protect you. She had only had a few interactions with you, but she had a feeling this whole situation would be more involved than she had planned. You were so sweet, so innocent, so helpful. Wanda was saddened at the thought of you being with anyone else, or you leaving her to go to school. She knew that how these two weeks would go was up to her, if you wanted her like she wanted you. Tonight she was going to find out.

She was lost in her thoughts as she cooked dinner on auto-pilot, making plans for the two of you. She stirred the pot of sauce and imagined you in her bed, trying to be quiet lest to wake up Billy and Tommy. Before she went to call all of you in, she stood behind the sliding glass-door and watched the game the three of you were playing. She imagined a family, a loving home, but quickly pushed that feeling deep down. Even she knew it was too soon for that. She couldn’t handle another loss in that regard, and so she opened the door and called for dinner. 

It was, of course, delicious. The three of you ate like animals, asking for seconds within minutes. Wanda twirled her pasta around her fork, watching you talk with her boys.

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?” she said, snapping back to reality.

“I said this is really good, thank you.”

“Well I’m glad you believe in my cooking now, y/n. You should know that I never disappoint.”

The boys continued talking to one another, but you had gone silent. There was no way Wanda wasn’t flirting with you. You didn’t want to ignore her signs and potentially lose the opportunity to be with this amazing woman, but you also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. As a woman who likes other women, you were constantly aware of your female relationships and the potential of a female friend taking your affection as flirting, or predatory in some way. This held you back in the love department, but you weren’t stupid. This was flirting, and now that you were more comfortable around Wanda and her boys, you gained back your confidence.

“Well that’s good to know. I’ll have to test you on that some time.”

Wanda smirked. You were definitely reciprocating her advances. The boys finished their dinner and Wanda told them it was time for bed.

“But Mom! We wanna play with y/n! Plus our bedtime isn’t for another 20 minutes!”

“Boys, I’ve had a very long day. Can you please just listen to your Mommy?”

Wanda noticed your breath hitch at her use of the word. She smiled as she felt her own panties growing wetter. 

Remembering their promise to each other to not make their mom more stressed, the boys sighed in defeat and headed upstairs, their mom following.

You stood there awkwardly, waiting for Wanda to return downstairs. You knew you shouldn’t leave, and you didn’t want to either. You wanted her to make a move so bad it hurt. You were confident, and you could flirt, but when it came to actual sex you needed to be led. Lucky for you, Wanda had a similar craving. 

Wanda went to her bedroom and took off her clothes to reveal the lingerie set she had been wearing the whole day. She tied a see through robe-like cover around her, the same color black as her set, beautifully highlighting her scarlett locks. She walked down the stairs to you. She descended, and with each step, watched your eyes darken and your jaw drop more and more. 

“Y/n…” she said, slowly walking over to where you stood in her kitchen, leaning on the counter.

“Yes Wanda” you said more like a statement and less of an answer to her vocation.

“Would you like to join me upstairs?”

“Yes, please.”

You didn’t mean to say please outloud, but you noticed what it did to Wanda. Her pupils grew and her hands found yours. She turned around and led you back upstairs to her bedroom. She opened the door and guided you toward her bed.

“Have you been thinking about me, y/n?”

“Yes” you truthfully answered.

“Yes, what?”

“I don’t…I don’t know” You pushed out in slight confusion.

“Yes you do, baby.” 

All at once it hit you, like a wave of understanding, like some kind of enlightenment.

“...Mommy. Yes, mommy.”

“Now that’s a good girl.” She sat on her knees in front of you on her bed, you sitting with your back against her headboard. She slid her hands beneath your shirt up to your tits and began to lightly massage them. You tipped your head back slightly, pushing your chest deeper into her palm. 

“I’ve been thinking about you too.”

A wave of heat struck you in the face. You looked at her, still finding it hard to believe this was happening at all. 

“You have?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent, sweetheart. I know you kept your curtains open on purpose. You wanted Mommy to see you playing with that pretty pussy. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Yes, Mommy. I…I wanted you to see me.”

“I know, baby. Mommy knows how hard it must have been. Was I ignoring my baby girl?”

“Please, Wanda.”

Wanda rolled your nipple harshly, leaving you a gasping mess.

“That’s not my name, sweet girl.”

“I’m sorry. Mommy, please. Please touch me. I need you.”

“Look at you. So eager. You’ll take what Mommy gives you. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. But baby,” she grabbed your face with both hands so you were looking her in the eye, “if at any point you want to stop, say the word “red”. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect. Now take your clothes off. Mommy wants to see you.”

You began to strip, dropping your clothes on her floor. Before you began to remove your underwear, Wanda stopped you.

“Wait, honey. Let Mommy do that.”

She stretched your legs apart a little, and ran a finger lightly over your covered cunt. She stopped at the wet spot that, to you, was growing embarrassingly big.

“Oh, poor baby” Wanda cooed and tutted. “I know you need Mommy so bad. I know it’s just so hard. Let me take care of my darling.”

Wanda slowly pulled down your panties, leaving them with the rest of your clothes on her floor. She smiled with pride at how desperate you were, how utterly needy. You were putty in her hands.

“But, what about you? I want to see you too.”

“I know baby, I know. Just let Mommy play with you first, okay? You want to be good for Mommy, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes I’ll be good.”

This was what you had been waiting for all week. The thought of disappointing Wanda brought tears to your eyes. You wanted her to take over you—to fill your senses so intensely that you could only see, hear, smell, taste, touch, all that was Wanda. You laid there obediently, waiting for Wanda to initiate whatever plans she had for you. To consider those plans in your head made you impossibly wet, just like any other thought you had of Wanda. Your stream of consciousness was interrupted by a light touch to your inner thigh. You looked down at Wanda who was looking at you, watching, and waiting for your reaction.

Wanda traced her finger up to your abdomen, marveling at your muscles tensing under her touch. She continued with both hands up to your chest, over your breasts, and up to your cheeks. Wanda hadn’t kissed you yet. She was waiting for this moment. The moment you were totally willing to submit to her, and then to finally lay her claim on you. You looked into her eyes then down to her lips, then back up at her eyes. She knew you wanted her to kiss you, and she knew you would wait for her to breach the gap. Watching your lip quiver in anticipation sent Wanda over the edge, finally, as she leaned in and connected her lips to yours. A tear fell from each eye down your cheeks, from pure joy. Her pillowy lips landed softly, lovingly on yours. Your hands went up to her cheeks, but hesitated before touching her. She smiled into your kiss and took your hands in her own, placing them on her own face. It confused you, but you didn’t think too much about it as your lips began to dance together. Wanda picked up the pace with a certain hunger, her tongue swiping your bottom lip asking for entrance. Immediately you opened for her, and moaned in neediness. You were still completely naked under her laced body, your pussy throbbing with anticipation and need. Wanda continued to kiss you passionately as you whined beneath her. You needed her. Wanda stopped suddenly. She sat back on her knees and held her hands toward you. You grabbed them and sat up looking at her. She pushed your hair behind your shoulders, gently, taking her time.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n. Do you know that?”

“Thank you.” You didn’t know what to say, so you just turned your head into your shoulder. 

She grabbed your chin so you were looking back at her. She kissed you again while pushing you back onto the bed. 

“Mommy’s going to taste you now, and I’m going to make you cum over, and over, and over again, until I decide that you’ve had enough. Do you know why, y/n?”

“Why?” You ghosted, no more than a whisper.

“Because I own this pussy. No one touches it but me, and I am going to ruin it for anyone else.”

You moaned. Loudly. You were almost sobbing at this point. You were so deep in your own head that you were barely registering her words. All you could think about were her hands on your thighs, and her words whizzing around you. 

Wanda heard your moan and watched in awe. She loved that sound. She needed to hear it again, right away. Wanda slipped a finger into you, watching you bury your face in the pillow. She didn’t move it at first, she only watched you squirm around her hand, trying to gain some friction.

“Patience, detka.” Wanda laughed in a low and evil tone. She began to go in and out, tortuously slow, watching you get worked up as she moved. She knew that after all this time you would be close from just these few movements. She added another finger, and began to pick up the pace, just enough to get your hopes up, before she slowed back down again. It was torture. It was marvelous. You could feel your stomach tightening, and you struggled to  believe it. She had done so little, yet, you could feel a need to release building up inside of you.

“Are you close already, baby?”

You hmphed in agreement, not able to open your eyes or mouth.

“Good.” And she stopped. She took out her fingers entirely, and saw the tears begin to pour. 

“Please, no, Mommy. Please—I need you inside of me. I need you to touch me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Hearing you beg like that turned something on in Wanda, something primal. While she was getting soaked herself teasing you out, leaving you a begging mess, she needed more.

“Careful what you wish for” is all she said before sliding two fingers back in and pounding with a merciless pace. Her lips connected to your clit while she pumped you full of her fingers. She licked and sucked, adding a third finger when she heard you yelling, “Oh God! Yes! Yes! You feel so good Mommy, you feel so fucking good.”

You whined as Wanda reached her other hand up to play with your tit. She rolled your nipple between her fingers and squeezed as she continued to pump hard and fast. 

“I’m gonna—I’m—Wan—Mommy please—please can I cum? Please!”

Wanda took her mouth of you to grant you permission, and good thing because you were already releasing into her mouth the second her lips reattached to your center. You had never cum so hard in your life. Now all you wanted to do was curl up in Wanda's arms and fall asleep. But she wasn’t done. You were incredibly sensitive, but her pace didn’t give. She went harder, almost violently, as she slammed into you. She came up to you and kissed you, stifling your moans. She continued to pump in and out with three fingers, as she moved down to your chest. She bit your collarbone fiercely, waiting for you to whine, to then smooth her tongue over it and ease the pain. You could feel a tiny bit of blood dripping down your tits, and you watched Wanda continue to leave hickeys and love bites, absolutely making sure that everyone knew you were hers. She sucked your nipples and smiled into them, feeling your hand in her hair. She might have cared another time, but not now. She felt your walls closing around her fingers, and could feel your rhythm spasming out of control.

“Go ahead and cum, my love. Cum all over Mommy’s hand.”

You moaned so loud your throat burned and your eyes watered, but you couldn’t help it. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving little half moons along her beautiful skin, which you might have cared more about if you weren’t feeling the deepest pleasure of your lifetime thus far. You back arched up and your body twitched violently, before slowly coming down and riding out your second orgasm on her fingers. Your hand reached down to push her fingers out of you, as black mascara tears continued to escape due to your overstimulation. 

“All done baby, don’t worry. You were so good for Mommy. I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda removed herself from you and headed for the bathroom, still in her lingerie. She came back with a damp washcloth, which found your thighs and stomach, and then your cheeks. Before she wiped your face, she took in the glorious sight of you.

“You look so beautiful right now. A tear-stained mess, all for me. You took Mommy’s fingers so well, honey.”

Rather unexpectedly, you sat up, and just hugged her. You cried into her shoulder, as she rubbed your back up and down, shushing you gently.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. I’m not upset, I promise. I don’t know” you said in a raspy whisper, your throat very sore.

“I’m right here, it’s okay.”

You nodded, feeling such a deep and loving warmth as she held you. You realized you could stay in her arms forever. So, when Wanda asked you if you wanted to spend the night, it was an immediate and grateful yes.  Wanda gave you some of her pajamas, and you wanted to cry again, just from how happy you were. She made you tea, for your throat, which she felt slightly bad about. She was just happy that the walls were thick, and the boys were heavy sleepers. After you had talked a little in her kitchen, Wanda could tell you were extremely tired. She led you by hand up the stairs into her room and shut the door. You got into bed and, as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were asleep. Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist and faced you, watching you breathe in, and out, for what could have been hours. She would have been happy to watch you all night, keeping you safe and warm in her bed with her. She traced a finger around your face, down your nose, over your lips. She kissed your eyelids and your cheeks, finally laying down and letting her own eyelids fall. She could think about you leaving and her own hesitations tomorrow. Tonight, all that mattered was that you were hers, and she had all of you. She realized, as she drifted off, that she could never let you go. What she hoped, and what was true, of course, was that you had already become just as attached, making these next two weeks extremely turbulent yet magical.

--

That's it! Thanks for reading :) I can continue this if anyone is interested, just reply or comment or whatever if so. I can definitely see this going multi-chapter, y/n's last weeks before leaving, Wanda and y/n dealing with that, etc...

[brighttears]

reader is pregnant and doesn’t tell Joel until she like 6 months or 7 months pregnant that she like hides it with jumpers and what not until the end of ep8 with David , Ellie and Joel notice her stumbling and breathing heavily like she’s gonna faint that’s when she uncovers her coat and his response is not good and Ellie just in shock so very angst .

Joel Miller x f!reader 

Warnings: mentions of death, canon violence, mentions of abortion and death of a baby, pet names (baby)

Word count: 2k

A/n: yay first request!

– 

Hell no you didn’t plan for this. But by the time you noticed the bump, you couldn’t go back. The first thing you did was tell Maria, who was thrilled. You sat and had a long talk with her, and she made you feel much less afraid, even excited about it. Jackson was a safe place. There were plenty of kids there already, even a school. It was the next day that Joel told you about the plan to see what you could find at the university where the Fireflies might be. Maria tried her hardest to talk you out of it, but now having spent over a year barely leaving Joel’s side, no way were you staying back. Knowing you’re carrying his baby made you only more sure about the decision.

The one good thing about winter was your big fluffy coat and layers. That really is the only good thing, though. Now six months along, it was getting harder and harder to hide, although the lack of food made you look more like four months rather than six months pregnant. Also you were growing more and more uncomfortable. You excused it as maybe a cold, which worried Joel greatly, because it wasn’t like any cold he’d ever seen. You didn’t want to be a burden but you were fucking ravenous. To make up for it you went out hunting often, until a couple months ago, when you couldn't get away with lying down on your belly to use the rifle.

Jackson provided the best food and care you could ever ask for, and Maria was very supportive, but you were scared. By that point, though, there wasn’t really anything you could do. Every day that you didn’t have a miscarriage, you were grateful. Every morning you woke up knowing Joel and Ellie were both safe and with you, you were grateful.

And then Joel got stabbed.

You hated yourself for not doing anything, only holding Ellie behind you as Joel fought off the raider. When Joel turned and you saw the rusty blue protruding from a circle of deep red on his abdomen, the breath was knocked out of you. Before you could yell “Don’t” he had already pulled it out.

Ellie was the one to get you out of there. She had to basically shove you two on the horse for her and Joel and then jumped (impressively, all on her own) onto your horse. You used one hand for the reins and the other to try to keep Joel’s wrapped around you but you almost got pulled down yourself when he fell to the ground. It didn't take long but took too long at the same time to find the neighborhood, then you and Ellie strained to get him set up in a basement. Your hands were trembling as they put pressure on the wound. You felt useless. Your head was swimming from the panic and fear mixed with hunger and exhaustion. Your stomach hurt. 

Still, you insisted you be the one to go out a hunt, but Ellie was adamant that you stay. 

“You couldn’t hold a gun steady if you tried.” she tried to joke, referencing your almost vibrating hands. You didn’t laugh, just finally nodded. While she was gone, Joel woke up. He did a terrible job trying to convince you to “take the girl and run.”

“Are you fucking joking? You hit your head, too? No wait seriously, did you hit your head?”

Between the time he fell back unconscious and Ellie came back, your mind cleared just enough to search the house for something to stitch him up with. All you could find was thread, which was definitely not ideal, but it was all you had. At the very least, you were able to use your lighter to try to sterilize the needle. 

While it was very concerning when Ellie came back with penicillin, then going straight back out, too quick for you to question her, the look in Ellie’s eyes when she came back scared the shit out of you. But once again she made you stay with him, “You have to. I know you’ve been sick and I’m not. I'm healthier than both of you combined. Just take this…” she had grabbed your hand and wrapped your fingers around a knife, “and don’t get killed.”

So, you handled it.

The penicillin worked along with watching your struggle killing the intruder to get Joel, although still weak, to his feet. You found where Ellie was and went after her on foot–you did puke when you saw the bodies hung like pigs in the shed–and then were guided the rest of the way by the smoke. The fear alone was enough to make you nauseated again, and after the adrenaline wore off some and you’d created some distance between you and the resort, it caught up with you and you eventually collapsed. 

Joel took your face in his hands, eyes wide, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m–Joel, I, no, I—”

“What? What is it? Tell me.”

“Joel…”

“What is it?” he demanded.

You couldn’t hide it anymore. You unzipped your jacket and unbuttoned the lighter one beneath it, revealing your pregnant belly. Joel’s face dropped.

“You’re pregnant?”

You nod timidly.

“This why you been so sick?”

You nod again.

“You’re havin’ a fuckin’ kid?”

“I guess so.” you give him a faint smile but it doesn’t last long.

“How could you.” Joel breathes out.

 Tears well up in your eyes at his harsh tone, “I thought, maybe–”

“What, that’d we’d make a family? No. No. I don’t want a family. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? How stupid you’re being?”

“Joel, I–”

“No! That thing’s gonna kill you! I don’t want it.” Joel enunciates the last sentence through his teeth. You start to cry. Joel pulls you in to hold you, then brings you back away by your shoulders, looks into your eyes then down to your belly, then back into your eyes. He pulls you in and then away again, “Baby… in another life… if we weren't–if the world wasn’t like it is, this would be one of the best days of my life.” He squeezes your shoulders. “But it’s not. We don’t live in a world where we can do that. You can’t do this.”

“What about Tommy?”

“What about Tommy?” Joel raises his voice, “Tommy’s livin’ in dreamland. On his fuckin’ commune. I live in the fuckin’ real world, where kids should not be born.”

“What about me?” Ellie interjects and you both look up, having almost forgotten she was there, “You don’t think I was supposed to be born?”

“Ellie, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean you.” Joel gets up to hug her but she breaks free and kneels down to hug you instead, face buried in your collar. You pet her hair and look up at Joel, brow furrowed. 

“How many months along are you?” Joel’s tone remains grim.

“Six months.”

“Six months.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.” you whimper.

Joel almost falls onto one knee, raking his hands through his hair. He starts to breathe heavily and puts one hand on the ground to balance himself. 

“Joel, please,”

He starts to gasp.

“Joel.” you almost cry out. It catches his attention and he looks at you with emotion you can’t identify. Then he lunges to wrap his arms around you and Ellie. 

After a few moments of breathing together, Joel speaks, “Okay. Okay, baby. We’ll figure this out. It’s okay. We can do this.” he raises his head to kiss your forehead and then leans his onto it. “We can do this. Let's get you up. Come on.” he raises you and Ellie gently to your feet. When he looks into your eyes again he wraps his arms around you tightly without a word. Then he brings his arm to take Ellie in with you, his hand on the back of her head, and kisses the top of each of your heads. “We can do this.”

It was basically silent on your way back to the house. You’d decided to stop there just for a little to catch your bearings. Ellie had other plans, apparently, almost immediately falling asleep. She must have been more than exhausted. You and Joel sat on the opposite side of the basement, not wanting to leave Ellie alone. You sat as far away from her as you could so you could talk. The small amount of softness that Joel had grown since you broke the news melted away. 

“How could you do this?”

“Well condoms and abortion clinics are pretty scarce these days, Joel.”

“Don’t fuckin’ joke with me.”

“That isn’t a joke.”

“There are plenty of ways to have a misscarriage, you don’t need an abortion clinic.”

You stop, stunned. “Are you telling me you expected me to find some hanger to shove into myself? Maybe throw myself down a flight of stairs or onto a fucking firehydrant or something?”

He says nothing but continues to glare.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?”

“Me? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He tries to keep his voice low but it is furious, “How could you do this? How could you bring a child into this world? How could you do this to me? I can’t be a fuckin’ father,”

“But you are, Joel. You had a daughter, and you were a great dad.”

“My daughter is dead.” he hisses, “And I am not going to lose another child.” Joel’s lip quivers and he looks to the ground. 

“What about Ellie?”

“What about Ellie?” he goes back to glaring at you and you just look back at him. “Ellie is not my goddamn daughter.” He snaps. You both look over to see if it woke her but she remains still, back facing you on the mattress. “I don’t want a daughter. I don’t want a child. This isn’t only about you.”

“You think I’m only thinking about me? You think I’m going through all this for my sake, being pregnant while starving, traveling across the country in the dead of winter?”

“You can’t blame me for not being able to feed you a fuckin’ five course meal three times a day–”

“I’m not! At what point in this conversation have I ever blamed you?”

“You can’t expect me to provide like a father should. Fuck fatherhood. That’s not a luxury I can afford.”

“So, what?”

“What?”

“Well I’m having this baby–”

“You ever stop to think that maybe you won’t? You ever heard of a stillborn? Even if it lives past birth you expect it to live past a week? A year at the very best? A year of it starvin’–what if we run into a Clicker? Then we’re all dead. What if you don’t make it through childbirth? If you’ve been starvin’ this whole time–and don’t think the deer’ll come on out now that the world knows you’re fuckin’ pregnant. Fuck the baby, this isn’t safe for you.”

“Joel, I don’t know what you want me to say,”

“I want you to tell me you’re fuckin’ joking.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Christ.” Joel presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can’t fuckin’ handle this.” he gets up and starts heading up the stairs.

“Joel, where are you–”

“Don’t worry, I’m not walkin’ out on you. I’m not that much of a piece a shit, as much as you might think so.” with that, he disappears from sight.

Only a few moments later, Ellie moves. She turns her head to look at you, then gets up and crawls over, turning to rest her back against the wall next to you and peers up at you.

“What did you hear?” you ask her in a hushed tone. She says nothing, just rests her head on your shoulder. 

Eventually, she whispers, “I think you’ll make a good mom.”

“Thank you, Ellie… I don’t know anymore, though.”

“What do you mean?” she moves to look up at you again.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be a mom anymore. Even if I do… decide to keep it… Joel’s right, how long is it gonna live?”

“Marlene told me about my mom, right before she handed me over to Tess and Joel.” she turns her face ahead and you look down at her now, watching her expression. “She gave birth… in some shitty, abandoned house, all alone. An Infected broke in, broke down the door, she gave birth to me while being attacked by an Infected. She got bit. That's why she’s not around anymore. You know my knife? That’s the knife she used to kill it. Isn’t that crazy? …My mom was fuckin’ badass.”

“Now I know where you get it from.”

She meets your gaze and gives you a slight smile. 

“Sometimes, I’m not sure if I think… she was, you know, right, for giving birth to me.”

“Don’t say that Ellie.”

“Well, I am ‘humanity's last hope’” she mocks a deep voice, “so I guess she was in the right.”

“That’s not all you’re worth, Ellie. You’re a wonderful person. You’re the strongest, smartest, bravest, funniest, most badass kid I’ve ever met. I mean it.” 

She slants a smile. “Yeah, I think you’ll make a good mom. Joel will, too. He just has to get used to the idea. It is kinda fair, for him to be so nervous, you know, with his daughter and all.”

“Yeah. I know. You’re right. He’s right.”

“That’s ok, there are plenty of bachelors in Jackson and at least one of them’s gotta have a thing for pregnant women.” 

You both laugh and you hit her arm, “Gross, Ellie.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“Probably not, no.”

Joel opens the door to the basement and asks Ellie on the way down, “Give us a minute, would’ya?”

“Yes sir.”

Joel surprises you by kneeling down in front of you, putting a hand on your knee. He bites the inside of his bottom lip and his eyes are glistening. You wait, completely still and quiet. 

“Look,” he looks away, maybe trying to fight back the tears but fails when he looks back at you. “I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than I’ve loved any woman in my life.” you start breathing heavier, thinking you might start crying again, too. “You would make a great mom. N’ I loved being a dad. But I know what it's like t’… lose a child. I wanted to kill myself after I lost Sarah.” He points to a small scar just in his hairline, “See that? I tried to shoot myself. But I flinched. I never knew why.” Joel rubs his thumb on your knee. “But now I know. “

[machatheo]

enhypen on them asking you out

genre: fluff ofc !!

a/n: + bit of backstory on how you both met too! p.s. bullet points get progressively longer by member lmao

heeseung

unlike heeseung’s presence whereas he looks pretty confident of himself, he’s actually extremely scared when he asks you out after one of his basketball games

awkwardly shifts on both of his feet while he waits for you to answer him, and when you say yes, he’s like ‘yeah good’ in the most normal voice he could muster (it ends up coming out as a stutter anyways)

on the first date, he brings you a flower bouquet with your favorite flowers (what a gentleman)

the place heeseung reserved to have dinner suddenly canceled so you both go on a late night walk instead

and then it starts to rain

heeseung is so so frustrated with himself because everything is going wrong and not how he expected

so he already feels like he messed up everything with you and you’ll never want to go on another date or even see him again

like he really really wants to impress you

but it just doesn’t according to plan

on the other hand, you can see right through him and secretly find him very cute with how hard he tries

and that’s honestly enough to make you fall harder

you do, in fact, assure that everything was amazing by giving heeseung a kiss on the cheek when you part

heeseung leaves all giddy and happy and red to his cheeks

jay

you meet him in one of your cooking classes after realizing that burning an omelette definitely meant there was something wrong with you

the twist, jay is the chef

and you keep messing up in his class so bad that jay can’t help but take pity on you

so he promises himself to take more of his time to help you but also because he finds you very pretty

so one day he’s like ‘oh there’s one free spot on this day so you should come’

and you are more than glad to agree because your cooking skills are pretty much non existent and you need them if you will need to survive alone

so you go and to your surprise, it’s literally just you and him

jay is not even in his work clothes so you get suspicious

“let’s call this a date”

if you could, you’d probably evaporate because hello!! you got yourself a free cooking class and a hot chef??

jay waits patiently for your answer because he’s not really sure if you’re actually into him like the way he’s into you

but you break his overthinking by yelling a “hell yeah!” and then internally facepalming because you probably just embarrassed yourself even more

jay only chuckles and then ‘in the most romantic way ever’ teaches you how to cook a proper omelette

jake

jake being your neighbor meant that you’d see him practically every day

he lives across your street but you never really talked with him that much other than small chitchat there and there

lately you’ve been extremely down and your only way to calm yourself is tending to your small garden (in your defense, it’s therapeutic)

sometimes you sit there for hours just to do anything than to think about all the problems

lately you’ve been finding flowers that you’re sure you do not grow in your garden

but you being you and romanticizing every single thing in your life, do not throw them out and rather collect them by putting them in a vase with water to keep them alive

soon those flowers come with little notes attached to them (‘you’re pretty :)’ ‘don’t be sad, you’re doing great’ and such)

you think it’s cute whoever’s doing that but then also now you really want to find out who is doing this

later when you do your usual ‘going around the neighborhood and asking if anyone has any dead plants they want to bring back to life’ (your neighbors are actually very glad you do this lol)

you come to jake’s and then notice he has those exact flowers growing on his porch

and you’re like well how did i not notice this

so when he opens the door, you don’t ask the usual but inquire him about the flowers instead

“took you long enough to figure this out”

for some reason you blush because jake is not reacting the way you thought he would be: embarrassed that he got caught

then he’s like “oh! i would’ve brought you this flower next” and then promptly disappears to come back with a new flower and a note

and it says ‘i really like you’

you’re actually very glad to see that because long story short, you’ve had your eyes on jake for quite some time now

sunghoon

it’s your birthday so your friends bring you to an ice rink to fulfill your ‘never will try this because you’re scared’ activities

you’re not that excited because, obviously, you hate not being able to properly balance yourself and now doing that on ice? no, thank you

but you’re still there and moments later you’re holding yourself up for dear life on one of the fences

you moved like two inches while all your friends seemingly forgot about your existence and are fleeting around the rink without care

and then, your knight in shining armor, or more like this very tall guy, comes to your side and holds out his hands

“need a hand?”

you’re like yes pls because your legs shake and slide across the ice with every single move

later you find out his name is sunghoon and he works at the ice rink by helping people while also being some serious ice skater himself

he gives you one of those penguin things children use to learn how to skate and then you tell him he kinda looks like one

he laughs and says because it’s your birthday, he’ll take that as a compliment

basically because of sunghoon, you keep coming back to the ice rink

and then one day there’s no penguin, no people, just you and sunghoon

you’re confused until he says it’s because he wants there to be no distractions

so you skate with him and you do get better time by time

“sorry i lied, i just wanted to spend more time with you alone”

and you’re like holy moly, this guy likes you back

so it truly was an unofficial date but you consider it as one because you think that’s where it all started

sunoo

you and sunoo have been besties for as long as you can remember

you share the same humor, the same judging people look and just in general, have a lot of similarities

you really think the universe couldn’t have assigned a better friend than sunoo

but you also hate the universe for giving you sunoo as a friend because you also kinda like him

but alas, he’ll never know because you’ll never tell him

then comes days when sunoo starts acting weird, cue ignoring your text messages, hanging out with you less

in sunoo’s perspective, he doesn’t do it on purpose, he’s just freaking out because of his new found feelings towards you so he goes to other people to get some insight on how to deal with this

you’re actually quite hurt because you don’t know what’s happening and keep thinking it’s because sunoo just lost interest in you

but then you also don’t want to back down, so you corner sunoo and don’t let him leave until he tells you what’s wrong

it takes him a bit to open up

and when he starts with “i don’t want this to ruin our friendship…” you get the worst feeling in your chest ever

because it really can go two ways: one, he’s so done with you, or two, he’s so in love with you

nevertheless, both of those options seem unlikely to you

but then he’s like, “so the thing is i realized that i like you”

and you’re absolutely taken back

and you hug him in an instant and sunoo’s very confused but he hugs you back

when you tell him your own feelings, both of you don’t really know how to start being in a relationship

because you’ve been friends for so long

but it does come naturally and doesn’t feel weird when you lean in to kiss your best friend

jungwon

jungwon is your self-proclaimed college enemy!!

or more like your competitor in every single academic activity

there’s a quiz going on? best believe you’ll ace it and leave jungwon in the crumbs

but it’s hard because jungwon is also very competitive and as soon as he realizes you’re trying to pass him, he bites back

so you always bicker whenever there’s a debate going on, or just in general

your teachers don’t see the ongoing dilemma but rather are so proud of both of your achievements

and that annoys you because in your book, you’re better than jungwon

so when the annual debate of two different colleges happens, you’re put together with jungwon as your partner to defend your case

and it’s crazy because you simply can’t stand being alone with jungwon, especially having to come up with the same objectives for the debate

lo and behold, you decide to put your differences aside and actually get some work done

which comes as a surprise because bickering aside, you can actually talk with jungwon as a normal human being

and it’s not that… bad anymore

you even catch yourself laughing and giggling at his stupid jokes

after the debate is over and you both absolutely destroy the other team with your planned out tactics, you and jungwon exit the building with a new kind of view of each other

one which has jungwon turning to you and asking you out on a date

and you don’t even have any thoughts of laughing in his face or making fun of him because you immediately say yes

niki

niki always comes around to your house to hang out with your older brother, jake

and your brother, being absolutely protective of you, doesn’t let anyone near you

including niki, even though he’s his friend

but you are infatuated by niki so you always try and get a peak whenever they’re playing games in the living room

because you think he’s very cute and you know he’s nice and would treat you good and you might like him now

so your only job now is to persuade jake to let you talk with niki

and it’s hard bc jake is glued to his hip like they’re related, and not you and him

on the other hand, niki also has got his eyes on you and one day when jake goes to the bathroom, niki puts up his best flirting game to get a reaction out of you

you, of course, immediately get swooned

and flirt back

both of you are in your own little world when jake comes back, sees you two together, then pulls you away and locks himself and niki in his room

you’re a bit disappointed because now you know you both like each other but jake is being an ass about it

and you’re pretty sure he knows it too

so while you throw a tantrum in your head, niki appears next to you

“jake gave me the green light”

you stare at him and he stares at you, and you both just stare at each other

but then there’s a big smile on your face as you realize the wall of jake has been lifted

it feels nice when your fingers finally intertwine with niki’s

[walli3darl1ng]

How would the welcome home crew react once they meet a nezuko like reader. Like they are having a late night walk and they stumble upon reader walking around with a box on her back. And by morning they find reader's box on top of a hill but no sign of reader, but then reader opens the box from inside revealing a smol reader inside🥺

Please make it as gender neutral as possible we can't make all the genders feel left out(including transgenders, non-binary, bigender etc.)

Stop! I love Nezuko 🥹

But honestly this is adorable I can’t! Here have a cookie for requesting 🍪

I hope I did a good job! I wrote this in the blazing sun waiting on my ride 🫠

When the weather allows it, the neighborhood would have a night walk in the woods. It’s so beautiful at night when you can see the starts and watch the fireflies flicker around. It’s so peaceful.

“Ow! Barnaby!”

“Oh, sorry, Sally!”

Well almost peaceful. This clear, full moon night the neighborhood thought it’s a wonderful night for a walk and while some talk to their friends others play on the sidewalk heading in the woods. Barnaby just so happen to see something and stop mid-hop on the hop scotch and Sally bumped into him.

Sally peaks around him to see what had him so invested for him to stop the train with her, Julie and Wally walking slowly behind to see you sitting on a medium size box looking up at the night sky.

Julie and Sally thought you’re absolutely stunning. The way the moonlight cast upon you making your eyes shine, the way your hair flows softly with the wind. Even with the bamboo in your mouth you look like you came out of a painting.

“Heya! Are you lost?” Barnaby calls out as he and the two girls follow, Wally quietly trailing behind.

You turn around and watch them carefully before shaking your head at his question.

Barnaby sees that you’re choosing to not speak so he tries to ask questions that you can answer him. “Do you know where you are?”

You shake your head then pointed to the box and the ground.

“This is harder then I thought..” Barnaby chuckles.

“I think they’re saying that they’re staying here for the time being? Right?” Julie asks resting her finger on her chin in thought.

You nod your head and clap your hands as a praise. This made her smile grow and her arms flapping about as she runs over. “You’re so cute!”

“How long have you’ve been staying here?” Wally holds Julie from tackling you by the collar of her dress. “I hope not long.”

You hum and then point at the moon and hold up two fingers, indicating you’ve seen the moon twice.

“Two nights?! Why haven’t you come to the neighborhood.” Sally gasps, she can only imagine how tired and hungry you must be right now. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“We are a long way from the neighborhood, Sally. They probably didn’t know the way.” Wally reassures the star with a smile.

“Wally! Barnaby!”

“Sally! Julie! C’mon time to head home!”

“That’s Frank and Poppy.” Julie answers looking at the direction of the voices. “We can’t let them find them!”

“Why not?”

“I think because they know Barnaby or Julie will hog them.” Wally answers Sally and laughs when he sees Barnaby whistling and Julie pouting at his accusation. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Guys! Let’s go! It’s late!”

“Wally don’t make me get you out that tree again!”

“It was one time, I learned my lesson.” Wally mumbles and takes Sally to head over to the overprotective duo. “C’mon then, we can come back tomorrow morning.”

You watch this all unfold with a curious glint. Your new friend are funny, but why can’t they stay with you? Nonetheless you let them leave, waving back.

Morning soon came and Wally, Barnaby, Sally and Julie wake everyone up and take them up the hill where they found their new interesting and adorable friend. Once there they were dissatisfied when they only found the box you were sitting on last night but not you. Did you leave? Did something happen? Are you hurt?

“Well, where are they?” Frank asks looking around to find you.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Poppy questions with worry.

“No they should be here, they couldn’t just run off.” Sally walks around the box and tilts her head when she hears soft snore inside the box. Then she moves to the front and knocks on the door.

“Sal, whatcha doing?”

“Maybe they’re inside, I hear something.” Everyone gathers around and sally opens the door and to say it was a cuteness overload is an understatement!

You’re small, maybe the size of a small child, curled up and sleeping, soft snores leaving you and holding a plush.

“My doll that went missing a few days ago!” Julie points out.

“Gosh, they’re so adorable!”

“Just look at their small hands!”

“Can i squeeze them?”

“Me first!”

The loud shouting wakes you up with a yawn, in the process making your bamboo mouth piece fall and reveal your small but noticeable fangs. You rubs your eyes and look up to see the whole crew looking down at you with heart eyes.

Let’s say you’re their precious little emotional support human.

[w2mini]

CHAPTER 1 . every moment with you

m.list / next

╰ You’ve always despised the nauseating feeling that stirs into your stomach after the long hours spent in that cramped airplane, and to compound your misery, a throbbing headache joins in the mix; it felt like your brain could split apart any moment now. You could never fathom how other people would get used to this or do you just get sick that easily.

As you hop off the plane and your shoes making contact with the ground, your body involuntarily sighs in relief, it was rewarding to breath the familiar air of your home country as if it was welcoming you back with open arms. A sudden rush of nostalgia hits you that brewed as one with the atmosphere— a comforting feeling to finally be home.

Once you’ve found a place to wait with your luggage after going through that torment of waiting for your turn in the long lines in immigration that were filled with multiple tourists and overseas workers, you thought of the urgent reminder to chat your friend since she promised to pick you up after you landed.

A warm smile formed on your lips as you scrolled through your online conversations with Yachi. It suddenly dawned on you as you realize on how much you’ve missed your friends throughout the years after living in the U.S for so long, alone.

While it may have been nice to finally be at home, you can’t help but overthink the outcome of your sudden arrival as you envision the worst case scenarios that started to emerge— what if they get mad once they know about this? should I make up a lie? no wait that sounds stupid-

A sigh escapes your lips as you scratch your head in distress, all those years you’ve spent in the U.S in solitary has made your heart unbearably empty, the long and growing regret keeps piling up in the corner of your heart, and now your overwhelmed with multiple emotions all at once now that you’re back.

“[NAMEEE]!!!”

The sudden call out of your name snaps you away from your thoughts, immediately turning your head at the owner of the voice.

You match the grin and excited energy the blonde haired girl gave you upon seeing your figure, her appearance never failed to make you feel warm in the heart and to effortlessly wash your worries away, she always felt like the blooming gold season of the summer with her radiant energy, and still cute as ever like she always was in high school.

“Wow, seeing your face really makes me think that I’m actually back, Yachi” you remarked, making Yachi chuckle in response.

“Do you know how shocked I was when you texted that you were coming back? geez I was not prepared at all” a sigh slips out off the blonde’s lips, damn was it really that bad? you started to think that maybe you should’ve considered telling the others first.

“I can see that, did you miss me that much that you immediately went to pick me up after work?” you eye her up and down as you point out that she was still on her workplace uniform.

Yachi simply rolls her eyes in reply and avoids the question “Good grief, have you been eating back in the U.S? you’ve become so slimy…” she states with a hint of concern in her tone but you shrug it off in reply.

“I’m eating well, speaking of food…” You look at her with a knowing look as Yachi immediately understood the signal.

“My treat!” the blonde grins and you return the energy as she opens her arms, waiting for you to do it.

And without a moment of hesitation, you quickly fell straight to her arms and returned the hug “Gosh I missed you so much, its been years…”

Yachi nods in agreement, she knew how hard it was for you to reboot your life back at the U.S “Mhm, I did too, we all did, its nice to see you again” gosh you could literally cry any moment now

“C’mon I’m starving, wanna go for some ramen?” Yachi asks and you IMMEDIATELY nodded as you both walk off to eat with Yachi’s precious wallet paying the bill. thank you Yachi we all say in unison

A certain setter was currently jogging around the streets of his neighborhood with the warmth of the sunset and the cool breeze that accompanied him with his quick jog as he waved from one neighbor to another that he passed by.

Although Kageyama has always took volleyball seriously and one would expect that he would be practicing right now, his team took the week off as the coach insisted (and Hinata forced invited him too) to catch up with their family and friends current happenings in life.

A wave of nostalgia rushed through him with each step he took as he passed by every place that became memorable to him when he was a child.

The playground, he remembers that you would always insist on playing hide and seek with him and you always caught him hiding under the slides.

The street near kindergarten class, he remembers that you would always force invite him to play tag with the other kids from class, but the meanie you were would always make fun of him whenever he failed to tag one of the playmates, how unfair of you

The bathhouse, although it’s a different structure now, must’ve been taken down. He remembers how your mother would always take the both of you and share a bath when you were still young toddlers, now that he’s an adult, he can’t help but cringe at the memory.

Theres a bittersweet feeling in his heart as he took a trip down his memory lane, reminiscing the experiences he went through as a toddler up until he was a high schooler, and all of them included you.

Kageyama wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he really missed you a lot, maybe he probably doesn’t realize that too. You were his only childhood friend, but you were happy and making a fortune living in the U.S, why should he complain?

He suddenly stops in his tracks when he faces your house, it was still the same as ever despite the amount of time passed, a faint smile forms in his lips at the sight. Your house was practically his second home if you think about it, it was you and your mother that raised him and always took care of him back then whenever his parents were away very often.

The sound of the house’s gate opening catches him off guard and quickly snaps away from his thoughts, but he relaxed a bit when he realizes it was just your mother.

“Oh, Tobio! long time no see!” your mother immediately recognizes the setter as he greets her properly with a bow.

“It’s nice to see you again Aunt L/N, it surely has been a long time” Kageyama smiled as he walked over to the older woman.

“You’ve become so handsome since the last time I saw you, look at you all grown up now and playing for a professional volleyball team.” your mother playfully pinched his cheeks, she was always fond of Kageyama probably more than you.

Due to his mother’s work, she always left Kageyama at the hands of your mother whenever she had to go and leave. It was practically your mother that raised him from head to toe since both of his parents rarely spent time with him.

“So what brings you here in Miyagi? are you taking a short vacation?” your mother asks as Kageyama nods in reply.

“Mhm, coach insisted the team to take a week’s worth of rest, Hinata also invited me” said Kageyama.

“Ah thats nice, you shouldn’t tire out yourself after all” your mother gives him a reassuring smile and lightly pats him at the back. “Oh right, there’s something I want to give to you, I already gave one to your mother when we both went hiking” she reaches over to the pocket of her cardigan and fishes out an envelope as she hands it out to him.

“A letter? what for?” he gently took the envelope and took out the letter as his eyes scanned over the text.

‘… special occasion… [name]…. wedding….”

Kageyama finds himself staring at the letter for a bit longer than he intended as his mind went completely blank.

…

HUH?!

He could feel himself internally panic, how come he never knew this? how long has she been engaged? is he being purposely left out now?

“My daughter’s getting married in the U.S, you should attend if you have the time.” your mother casually says as he’s mentally conflicted on what to do, he feels the words he wants to say get stuck in his throat.

“…C-congrats to [name], I’ll check my schedule in advance” phew, at least he played it well.

“Great! it would really mean a lot to her if you attended, you’ve been friends ever since you guys were young after all” yikes, okay that low key hurt.

“I’ll get going now, it was really nice to meet up with you again after so long, if you have the time come over for dinner!” your mother suggests as she left.

Kageyama looks at the letter again in his hand with his prominent frown that could be visibly seen on his forehead, he doesn’t know why, but he oddly feels conflicted with this unexpected news.

He didn’t know what to feel, was he supposed to be happy or sad? his mind was going through an unbearable dilemma with countless thoughts running around, giving him no time to relax and think straight.

A sigh escaped his lips instead, he should be feeling happy for you, his feelings ever since high school was long gone and faded away. Besides, he had no right to complain either way, you’ve lived in the U.S for nearly 10 years, it was doomed to be possible that you would find someone else to settle your life with.

In the end, he finally decides to continue his jog to clear up his mind first, and probably meet up with Hinata soon.

‘Gosh this is stupid…’

» yes ik were all confused with the wedding invitation but if you watched the kdrama u know whats gonna happen 🫶🫶

» is kageyama jealous?? tune in for more guys !! 🤗

» also ignore the chats in the profiles one, no one actually knew that [name] was supposed to come back from the u.s, thats just for shits and giggles ‼️

» kageyama and reader always like to tease and joke around each other FR

NOTES ノ OH MY GODD I FINALLY FINISHED THIS IM SOBBING im saur sorry for the very late update guys its currently our school’s sports festival and i keep going home TIRED 👎👎😭 hope u guys enjoyed tho, i worked day and night (no i did not😁) for this

also thank u guys so much for the love u guys have been giving for this series AGHSHRH i really did not expect it but it really motivates me to write more, labyu guys !! 🫶🫶🥹

original m.list

[zizzlekwum]

Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER TEN

The BAU investigates a series of murders in Texas. Follows the events of Criminal Minds Season 2 Episode 17 "Distress."

Trigger Warnings: descriptions of a prior toxic relationship

Word Count: 6,304

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls @theclassicgaycousin @fatherfigured [if you want to be added to the tag list, please comment or send me an ask]

You’re late to work on your first day back at the BAU due to red tape, so you get there just as JJ is beginning to present the next case.

“Welcome back,” Hotch says quietly as you take a seat at the table between him and Prentiss. You give him a nod before focusing your attention on JJ.

“This is Houston’s Fifth Ward,” she explains, pointing the remote at the TV. “It accounts for a large percent of the city’s growing homicide rate due to gang violence and a bustling narcotics trade. Although in the last forty-eight hours, there have been three distinctive murders in the ward.” She clicks a button on her remote, bringing up pictures of the crime scenes.

“Distinctive?” Morgan asks.

“Three men, three different socioeconomic groups, all killed on the street with their necks snapped,” JJ continues. “There appears to be no other injury, and there’s no apparent connections between the victim, or motive.” She shrugs.

You open your mouth to say something but stop as Reid enters the room, taking a sip of his coffee. He nods at JJ to continue while he sits down to your left.

“The ward’s detectives are inundated with homicides,” JJ explains. “Gang violence is a big problem. Shootings, armed robberies, it’s an everyday occurrence, but this type of street attack is new to them.”

“Could it be gang related,” Prentiss posits. “Maybe some type of new initiation rite?”

JJ shakes her head. “The gangs in the ward use guns. In fact, no known gangs exhibit this type of MO.”

“What about dope?” Morgan asks. “These guys come up with pretty freaky ways of killing the competition to get their message out.”

“But wouldn’t they want to leave a sign to tell others it was them?” you point out. “Kinda defeats the purpose if people don’t realize the killings are a targeted threat.”

“Yeah, and there just doesn’t seem to be any connection between the victims and the drug world,” JJ adds.

“Homeless man, a construction worker, security guard.” Gideon lists the victims.

JJ nods. “Just three dead men and no witnesses.”

“We’re looking for a homicidal serial criminal in a neighborhood populated by criminals,” Hotch notes. “The challenge will be separating him from the rest.”

“We have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the unsub and the victims pre- or postmortem, and an indistinguishable MO,” Reid says. “Should be simple.”

“Like finding a needle in a stack of needles,” you say. “Wonderful.”

*   *   *   *   *

On the plane, the team continues to try to make sense of the victims. “We got a construction worker, outsider in the community,” Morgan starts. “We got a security guard— that’s an authority figure. And then we got a homeless man. That’s a powerless victim that no one would notice missing.”

“They’re all over the place,” you note, jiggling your leg up and down, not looking up from where your hands are folded in your lap.

“So who’s he targeting?” Morgan asks.

“Let’s see if any of the victims frequented the same stores or sites,” Hotch says.

“He used blitz attacks,” Reid adds. “He most likely lacks the interpersonal skills he needed to coerce his victims into coming close, and he also used the element of surprise, which means he may have stalked his victims prior to killing them.” You swallow hard. Prentiss glances over at you, frowning.

“Well, if that’s the case, I wanna go to the last crime scene to see where he may have been hiding,” Morgan says.

“I want to see the neighborhood for myself,” Gideon says. “I’ll go with you.”

“Good,” Hotch says. “The rest of us can go to the precinct and set up shop.”

“I’ll map out the area and see if I can find any places the victims would have visited in the neighborhood,” Reid offers.

“Good, maybe we can find a connection between them,” Emily says, still watching you. “I’ll help you with that.”

Reid frowns. “I can handle it.”

Prentiss turns her attention from you to Reid, frowning. “I… wasn’t suggesting that you couldn’t.”

“Isn’t that what ‘I’ll help you with it’ means?” Reid snaps.

“Reid,” Hotch interrupts before he has a chance to continue. “Prentiss will help you with the geographical profiling and victimology.”

“Fine,” Reid says sharply, looking down at the papers in his hands.

Hotch sighs. “Remember, this is a high crime area. Be vigilant. Nobody goes anywhere alone. Y/L/N?”

You glance over at Hotch. You notice him watching your bouncing leg so you make an effort to stop. “Hmm?”

“I want you to stick with Prentiss and Reid for now,” he says with a frown.

You nod. “Gotcha, boss-man.”

He glances between you and Reid again before turning his attention away, and you let out a sigh. You really don’t want to go to Texas.

*   *   *   *   *

After you, Prentiss, and Reid get situated in the conference room, you begin to get to work, using a map of the neighborhood to get started. JJ walks in after a few minutes.

“What’s that?” Hotch asks. You turn to face them.

“One of the detective’s wives made us cookies,” JJ tells him.

“Wow, homemade cookies?” Prentiss says with a smile.

JJ sets the plate on the table and you go over to grab a cookie. “Yeah, I guess that’s what they mean by southern hospitality.”

Reid walks over to the window and fumbles with the blinds. “I need to concentrate— how can anybody hear anything with all this work going on?” He slams the window shut.

“Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it,” JJ tells him. “Construction crews are working around the clock.”

“Saw it on the way in,” Prentiss adds.

“City’s trying to return to its splendor, and that means that Houston’s poorest are being kicked out of their homes,” JJ explains as you nibble on a cookie.

Reid opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Morgan and Gideon entering the room, followed by a detective.

“Unsub might be homeless,” Gideon reports. “Appears to have been living in a building next to where the security guard was attacked.”

Reid gestures to the map. “These are the locations of the last three murders, all near abandoned buildings.”

“To be fair, there are a lot of abandoned buildings nearby,” you point out.

Hotch nods. “She’s right. I noticed the neighborhood, maybe he was recently displaced.”

“Could be a motive,” Emily adds. “Construction worker, security guard at a construction site. Payback?”

“What about the homeless man?” Morgan asks.

“We get a lot of beefs down there among the homeless. That one could have just been a fight about space or food,” Detective Fuller says.

“Let’s get a list of residents who’ve been kicked out of their homes by the gentrification.” He turns toward you and Prentiss. “You, Y/L/N, and Reid check the shelters?”

“Yeah, we’re on it,” Prentiss says, standing. You nod. Then she pauses. “Unless… you okay with that, Reid?”

Reid furrows his brow in confusion. “I’m fine with that.”

You and Emily share a concerned look as you follow him out of the room.

*   *   *   *   *

At one of the shelters, the three of you are looking for someone in charge when Prentiss’ phone rings. It’s Hotch, alerting you of another murder.

A woman walks up to the three of you just as Emily is hanging up her cell phone. “Heard y’all are looking for someone in charge? I’m Angie, one of the administrators.”

Emily holds out her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Agent Prentiss, these are Agents Reid and Y/L/N. We’re with the FBI.”

“Really?” Angie says, surprised.

“Really,” Reid snarks as Emily shows her badge.

“It looks like you have your hands full,” Emily says.

Angie nods. “With the demolitions in the projects and the abandoned buildings, there’s no place else for people to sleep.”

Prentiss smiled. “Well, thank God there are people like you who take the ti—“

“Do you have a list of everyone who comes through here?” Reid interrupts.

“Uh, we have a sign-in sheet,” Angie tells him, frowning. “But we don’t force anyone to sign if they don’t want to. Some who do don’t even use their real names.” She smiles. “Elvis eats here a lot.”

“Do you think we could get a copy of any lists you might have?” you ask.

“Why?” Angie asks, frowning.

“Have you noticed anyone who acts unusually aggressive towards the other residents?” Reid asks.

Angie crossed her arms. “What’s this about?”

“A series of murders in the area. The perpetrator may be a homeless man. Maybe someone who stays here.” Reid looks around. “He may even be in this room as we speak.”

“Reid!” Prentiss says sharply as Angie looks around, nervous.

“Have you noticed anyone who acts paranoid or displays explosive, unprovoked bursts of violence, more than just pushing and shoving?” Reid continues, ignoring Emily. “I mean, someone who really tried to harm others.”

“There are territorial fights over food and places to sleep,” Angie says. “The nurse treats people for minor injuries all the time, but no one seriously hurt.”

“If anyone does come to mind, give us a call,” Reid tells her, giving her his card. “Thank you.” He turns and walks away as you and Prentiss share a concerned look.

Angie looks at Prentiss. “A murderer?”

Prentiss holds up here hands. “I-I’m sorry. This investigation is still—“ She pauses, flustered.

You glance over your shoulder at Reid’s retreating form. “No one’s actually been hurt in a shelter,” you reassure Angie.

Prentiss nods. “We’re just— we’re acting in an abundance of caution. So please, let the police know if anything unusual occurs. Thanks.”

Angie nods, and you and Prentiss head outside to find Reid, who is observing the people outside.

“There’s a high presence of mental disorders with the homeless,” he says.

“Yeah,” Prentiss says, not really paying attention to what he said. “What the hell was that in there?”

“What?” Reid asks.

“‘He may even be in this room as we speak?’ We have nothing to support that.”

“We’re investigating a serial homicide,” Reid argues. “Should I have pretended there’s no danger?”

“You just scared the shit out of that woman,” you say. “She’s probably afraid of every dude who walks in, now!”

Reid shrugs. “Again, until we find this unsub, how is that a bad thing?”

Prentiss frowns. “What is the matter with you?” she asks, not unkindly.

Reid raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, what’s the matter with me?”

“I’ve never seen you act like this,” she explains.

Reid frowns, upset. “Oh really? In the months that you know me, you’ve never seen me act this way? Hey, no offense, Emily, but… you don’t really know what you’re talking about, do you?” He turns and storms off, leaving you and Emily standing there, shocked.

“What the fuck?” Emily mutters.

“He… he’s not okay,” you tell her, frowning. “It’s not you.”

She nods. “I know, but….”

You put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m worried about him, too,” you admit. “But I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”

Emily looks over where Reid is walking away. “Let’s just get back to the station,” she says quietly. “There’s nothing left for us to do here.”

*   *   *   *   *

When the three of you walk into the station, Reid begins filling in Hotch. “We just got back from the local homeless shelter,” he says. “The administration hasn’t noticed anyone new displaying aggressive behavior.”

“He’s not in a homeless shelter,” Hotch says. “I just talked to Gideon and Morgan. They think that he’s killing to protect some makeshift shelter of his own.”

“Are we ready for a profile yet?” Reid asks.

“We’re missing something.” Hotch frowns. “How did this homeless man learn to kill so efficiently?”

“You know what we need?” Prentiss says.

“We need to get lucky,” Hotch tells her. “We need him to make a mistake.”

Everyone goes back to what they were doing while Emily pulls you aside. “Okay, what’s up with you?”

“Huh?” you ask, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been off ever since we were assigned this case.” She frowns, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You sigh. “You’re not gonna drop this, are you?”

She shakes her head. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I….” You’re not sure how to word it, so you decide to just plow right ahead. “I was nineteen when I met my first boyfriend. We met online, which may seem crazy now, but where I’m from— or should I say when I’m from— that isn’t uncommon.” Prentiss nods, listening intently. You stare down at your hands, wringing them together and bouncing your leg. “Honestly, I try not to think about how many red flags I refused to see. It embarrasses me.”

Emily nods. “We’ve all been there,” she reassures you.

You laugh humorlessly. “Anyway, he was thirty. I mentioned I was nineteen at the time, right? Now, had I not still been a literal teenager, the age gap would’ve been less creepy, but I was just a kid. And he was the first person to have ever shown interest in me. We started off as fast friends, while I overlooked all the red flags, like I said, but then we started becoming something… more.”

You cringe before continuing. “You know how I said the first red flag should’ve been his age? Well, second red flag should’ve been that he was a convicted felon.”

“Oooh, yeah, that’s… not great,” Emily says sympathetically.

“To be fair— and this is the only concession I’ll give him— he was like twenty when his only friend, who also happened to be his fiancée, was killed in a car accident. He kinda went crazy and tried to rob a bank like, literally three days later.” You shake your head. “Dumbass got caught at a hot dog stand. And I’m not condoning it, but, I mean, temporary insanity exists as a legal defense for a reason.”

Prentiss nods. “No, I get it.”

“So yeah, red flags abound,” you continue. “And like I said, it was the first time anyone had ever been interested in me like that, so I was naive. I quickly became obsessed, but I didn’t recognize it as obsession and thought it was love. Stupid fucker ate that shit up. He eventually flew up to Mass to visit me for Halloween. I thought things were fine— other than the fact that I hated kissing him, but I chalked that up to sensory issues. He went back home, and that’s when shit started to hit the fan.

“Really soon after he went home, a celebrity followed me on Instagram— that’s a photo sharing website. Turns out that celebrity was the son of Lou Ferrigno, who was the Incredible Hulk. As I’m sure you know, I’m a huge Marvel fan.”

“Oh, I know,” Emily says with a chuckle.

“Anyway, I thought it was cool that the son of the Incredible Hulk followed me. I told the guy I was dating, and he got wicked jealous and spent the entire night at the 24-hour gym by his house.”

Emily blinks. “That’s fucking insane.”

“Yep,” you agree. “That’s when I started to lose interest, and got my first urge to break up with him. However, I was too nice, and knew that his family sucked— long story short, his step-dad was abusive and his mom allowed it— so I wanted him to spend Christmas with me and my family in Massachusetts, to have a good holiday.

“So I put up with his clinginess, along with other insane shit, until he flies up for Christmas. Christmas Eve night, while my extended family was over, he cornered me and tried to be clingy and I just shut down. He literally chased me to my room, and when I closed and locked the door, he stood and talked at me through the door. I had a meltdown and ended up cursing him out, after which my mom came up and convinced him to go downstairs, then reprimanded me about yelling and swearing while family was over. I spent hours in my room that night instead of enjoying Christmas Eve, and only came out after I called my aunt, who was in, like, Mexico or something for a holiday vacation, and she talked me down. I eventually went out and luckily, Fuckface was in the basement for the rest of the night. I decided to be nice and not break up with him on Christmas, and faked my way through the day.

“A couple weeks later, while I had been pretty much faking any interest in him to give him a couple nice weeks, I was invited to my friend’s baby shower. It was Patriots themed and everyone was expected to wear a Pats jersey. Since Fuckface hated the Patriots, I told him I wouldn’t make him go. He fucking thanked me, then had the gall to cry to my dad after I left that I didn’t take him with me. I came back home, missed the shower, and immediately broke up with him, but told him I wouldn’t insist upon him going home since, again, his family sucked and I wanted to be nice. Which, by the way, if you ever see me trying to be nice to someone to my own detriment ever again, please smack some sense into me.”

“Will do,” she tells you solemnly. “I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks.” You take a deep breath. “It all came to a head a few weeks later, when he found out that I had a date. He stormed upstairs and complained to my mom, right in front of me, that he just assumed we would, and I quote, ‘find our way back to each other,’ and what was he supposed to do? He then wondered aloud, in front of AJ, my nine-year-old little brother who had his own severe mental health issues, if he should hunt down my date and blow his brains out, and— again, I quote— ‘see that pink mist.’”

Prentiss takes a deep breath. “Fucking unhinged.”

You nod. “Seeing AJ becoming distressed, I yelled at Fuckface to shut up. He proceeded to storm over to me. I ducked, and he smacked my hat off of my head. Now, I’m convinced he tried to hit me, but my mom always insisted he was just trying to hit my hat off of my head. Not okay either way, of course, but one is worse than the other. I ran upstairs, afraid, and locked myself in my room and armed myself with the switchblade I got from camping that year that I kept next to my bed. I didn’t sleep at all that night, and he flew back home the next morning. That was the last I physically saw of him, but he proceeded to cyberstalk me for the following two years.” You take a shaky breath. “Anyway, to sum it all up, my crazy ex was from Texas, and even though I’m literally in a different universe, and Texas is so fucking huge that even if I weren’t in a different universe, the chances of running into him would be slim to none, I’m still anxious about being here.”

Emily puts a hand on your shoulder. “It’s a trauma response,” she tells you.

You nod. “I know. That doesn’t make me feel any less stupid for stressing over a nonissue.”

“It’s not a nonissue,” she insists. “It’s trauma. And even though you may be safe, your mind doesn’t fully recognize that.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “Maybe. I don’t know, I just—”

“Please help my daddy!” You’re interrupted by a young girl running into the police station, followed by a man with blood dripping from his nose.

“I-I need help, I was attacked!” the man shouts.

JJ hurries over to him. “Can I get some help here, please?”

You head over to the man’s daughter as he turns to JJ. “Please call my house to come get my daughter, please!”

You bend down to speak with the little girl. “Hi, I’m Y/N. We’re gonna take good care of your dad, okay?”

She nods as Emily comes over to you two and says something in Spanish to the girl. “Maria,” the girl says.

Emily glances at you. “Her name is Maria.”

You hold out a hand. “Maria, do you wanna come with me and Emily while my friends help your dad?” She nods, taking your hand, and you lead her to the unused conference room.

“Is my papa gonna be okay?” Maria asks as you direct her to a chair. Hotch sits down to her right as Emily takes the chair to her left, you staying crouched in front of Maria.

Hotch nods. “Yes.”

You glance at Hotch, who gives you a small nod. “Maria, do you think we could ask you a few questions?”

“It would really help us find the bad guy,” Emily adds. She waits for Maria to nod before continuing. “Did he say anything to your papa?”

Maria shakes her head. “No.”

“What were you and your papa doing before the bad guy came?” Hotch asks.

Maria takes a deep breath, squeezing your hand. “Papa took out the garbage. And then he jumped out and he hit my papa. I was screaming at him. I thought he was gonna hit me, too. But then he stopped… and he looked at me funny.”

You squeeze her hand. “What do you mean by ‘funny?’”

Maria looks at you. “He looked sad. He did say something. Not to my papa. To me.”

“What was it?” Emily asks.

“He said ‘are you okay? Why are you crying?’” Maria says. “And then we ran.”

“Maria,” Hotch says, giving her a small smile. “What you did was very brave. Can you help us with one more thing? Can you tell us what the man looked like?”

Maria nods. “He was white. And tall. And dirty.” She looks down at Hotch’s hand. “And he had a ring like yours.”

Hotch points to his wedding ring. “Like that?”

Maria nods again. “I remember his ring.”

You squeeze her hand. “Thanks. You did a good job.”

She opens her mouth to respond before focusing on something behind you. “Abuela!” She jumps out of her chair and runs toward a woman who just walked through the doors. Emily goes over to greet her while you and Hotch walk back to the conference room to update the team.

*   *   *   *   *

“He asked if she was okay and why was she crying,” Hotch says once he joins you, Emily, and Reid in the conference room. “He wasn’t aware of what he was doing to them.”

“Garcia’s on line one,” JJ says, pressing a couple buttons on the phone, next to an open laptop.

“Go ahead, Penelope,” Prentiss says.

“All right, cowgirls and boys,” Garcia says. “I’ve got the comparison satellite images of the before and after pictures, and I found something. Check it.” An image of the top of a building appears on the laptop screen. “See it yet?”

“Yeah,” Hotch says.

“Is that an SOS?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Garcia says. “It’s made of debris and other rocky bits of gobbledygook. This is the building where the security guard got killed.”

“He’s asking for help,” Hotch says.

“Wait, guys, listen outside,” Reid says.

“Chaos,” Hotch says. “The SOS.”

“He’s a war veteran,” Emily realizes.

“PTSD episode?” you ask.

Hotch nods. “He thinks he’s in a war zone.” He dials Morgan and Gideon, who are with the detective. “He left a distress signal on the roof of one of the buildings,” he tells them once Morgan picks up.

“The quick strikes are consistent with trained military tactics,” Morgan says.

“He must’ve served in a place that looked or sounded like this ward,” Emily suggests.

“Well, we were right about him being homeless, in a sense,” Gideon says. “Wherever he is, in his mental state, he’s certainly not at home.”

“He may not even be aware he’s killing,” Hotch says.

“Now how’s that?” the detective asks.

“When soldiers suffered from anxiety, depression, and flashbacks in World War One, it was called shell shock,” Reid says.

“Battle fatigue in World War Two,” you chime in. He nods.

“Now we refer to it as PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, war related, a side effect of which is slipping into dissociative states,” Reid finishes.

Prentiss nods. “The mind divorces itself from reality so it can cope with the trauma.”

“He’s reliving a memory,” Gideon says. “He’s trapped in his head in some war zone.”

“Hiding and defending himself from the enemy,” Morgan adds.

“Okay, but how do we find a man who’s trapped inside his head?” JJ asks, frowning.

“He’s got a wedding ring,” Prentiss points out.

“Someone’s probably missing him,” you add.

“Good,” Gideon says. “I’m on the way in with Detective Fuller. Morgan has one last crime scene to check.” He hangs up.

“JJ,” Hotch starts, “check missing persons reports, see if anyone matches the description. It would’ve been filed recently, the last two or three days.”

She nods. “Okay.”

*   *   *   *   *

JJ almost immediately finds a promising lead, inviting the wife of a missing man into the precinct. She and Detective Fuller lead the wife and another man into the unused conference room.

JJ turns to Hotch, just outside of the room. “Dana Woodridge and Max Weston. Her husband and his best friend, Roy Woodridge, has been missing since Tuesday.” Hotch nods and you follow him into the room.

“He was on his way home from work,” Dana starts. “He called before he left the office and said we needed to talk when he got home. He sounded upset.” She swallows hard. “That was the last I heard from him.”

“What was he upset about?” Prentiss asks.

Dana shakes her head. “He didn’t say.”

“Dana called me that night when Roy didn’t show up,” Max continues. “So the next morning we filed a missing persons report.”

“Mrs. Woodridge, where does your husband work?” Hotch asks.

“He’s a consultant at a security firm downtown,” she answers.

“Did your husband ever serve in combat?” Gideon asks tentatively.

“Excuse me?” Max says, frowning.

“Is he a war veteran?” Hotch asks again.

Max nods. “Y-yeah, we both are. We were in special ops. 75th Ranger Regiment, Bravo Company, Third Battalion. But Roy, he retired shortly after things went bad in Mogadishu.”

“That was back in 1993,” Reid says. “Let me ask you this— does he display any, uh, behavioral tics? Certain everyday things that make him jumpy or startled?”

“Why?” Dana asks.

“Does he?” Reid ignores her.

“Is this going to help find him?” Dana frowns, glancing at Max.

“Mrs. Woodridge, please,” Prentiss implores. “We need to know everything we can about your husband.”

Max sighs. “We all had a… hard time over there. You bring some things home with you.”

“Like what?” you ask.

“He has a hard time with loud noises,” Dana explains. “He can’t be in crowds. He has nightmares and wakes up in cold sweats.” She pauses. “The smells are the worst. He… if he smells something burning, like a barbecue, or gas, or fire… he gets sick.” Max rubs his face as Dana continues. “It really only got bad about a year ago.”

Gideon looks at Max. “What happened to him in Somalia?”

Max laughs uncomfortably. “Nothing. Combat happened.”

“What does that mean?” Gideon asks.

Max stands. “I’m gonna… get a drink of water.” Gideon follows him.

Hotch pours Dana a cup of coffee. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “Could somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

You and JJ look to Hotch. “There have been some people hurt, recently, and we think that there may be someone lost on the streets,” he explains. “Someone who thinks that he’s still at war.”

Dana shakes her head. “Well, Roy would never hurt innocent people. Why would he even be in this neighborhood?”

Prentiss goes to respond but the phone rings. JJ presses the speaker button. “Hey, Garcia. We have Mrs. Woodridge here with us.”

You can hear Garcia hesitate. “Oh, uh, well. I found an ‘02 white Ford F150 pickup truck.”

“Oh God,” Dana says. “That’s his truck.”

“It was impounded,” Garcia continues. “It had a flat tire and was picked up on Lyon Street about a quarter mile from Highway 59.”

“He takes the freeway to work every day,” Dana says.

You and Prentiss share a look. “Mrs. Woodridge, I’m very sorry,” Emily starts, “but this is definitely your husband.”

*   *   *   *   *

Back at the conference room, you’re updating the map when Gideon comes back in. “We need to put a SWAT team together. Plan a grid search, go building to building.”

“He’s reliving the war, isn’t he?” Hotch asks.

Gideon nods. “A specific incident in which he killed a child.”

“Guys, the SWAT team’s gonna have guns, right?” Reid points out. “What happens if he tries to fight them?”

You sigh. “You know what happens, Reid.” You and JJ leave the room and go look for Dana, who is grabbing another cup of coffee. She notices the cops suiting up in the room next door.

“Can I get you something, Mrs. Woodridge?” JJ asks.

“Those men are going after Roy?” Dana says. Her voice breaks. “Do they need so many guns? I mean, he’s just one man.”

JJ pulls her away from the doorway. “It-it’s protocol, ma’am.”

Dana looks at you. “How badly were they hurt? Y’all said that people were hurt.”

“Some people were murdered,” you tell her gently.

“Murdered?” she repeats quietly. She sighs. “He never really came home. I lost him fourteen years ago. It’s been like living with a ghost.” She grabs JJ’s arm. “Help him,” Dana pleads. “Please, help him.”

JJ swallows. “We’ll do everything we can.”

You go back to the conference room where Reid is messing with the map. “Reid, what are you working on?” Hotch asks, following you into the room.

“Three days ago, police shut down the freeway at 5PM for ten minutes. Cars were stalled and Roy must’ve tried to exit onto a surface street. Sadly, he ended up in an unfamiliar area with a flat tire.” Reid pauses. “He was changing that tire when an eight-story building on Market imploded five blocks away. He heard the explosion and the ground rattled like a mortar bomb had landed nearby.”

“You think that explosion is what triggered the dissociation,” you say.

“Exactly,” Reid tells you. “Since then, he’s been stuck in that state. Running when he needed to, sleeping when he could, camouflaging himself into his surroundings, and hiding from his perceived enemies.”

“He’s reliving the worst moment of his life,” Hotch says. “He’s gotta be terrified.”

Reid nods. “Yeah.” Hotch exits the room as Reid’s phone rings. “Yeah, Garcia, what do you have?”

“Why isn’t Derek answering his phone?” Garcia asks.

“He’s probably stuck underground somewhere,” Reid explains.

“Underground?”

“I’ll explain later,” Reid says.

“Oh, okay,” Garcia says. “Anyway, I finally got through all those recent police reports he asked me to check, which, by the way, was no hopscotch through the park because that precinct you’re at is kinda tragically behind on their paperwork.”

“They’re very undermanned,” you tell her.

“Oh, jeez, really? I can’t imagine what that feels like,” Garcia quips. You chuckle. “Oh no wait, yes I can, cuz—“

“Garcia, do you have anything for us?” Reid asks.

“Well, he told me to look for anything unusual, and it’s all… usual. Minor break-ins, apartment burglaries, televisions, stereos, car thefts, and smash and grabs. Common stuff in the world of burgling.”

“Nothing someone lost on the streets might use for survival?” you ask.

“No, nothing reported,” she says. “Like I said, it’s all petty. There’s a… some vandalism at construction sites. Communications radio missing from one.”

“Wait, stop,” you say.

“Did you say a radio?” Reid asks.

“Yeah, construction foreman reported that one of their trucks had been broken—“ Garcia’s voice cuts off as Reid hangs up, hurrying out of the room.

“Guys,” Reid interrupts Gideon, who is briefing the SWAT team. “He may have stolen a radio, a walkie-talkie.”

Hotch waves him over to the room Max is in.

Morgan walks into the room. “We were right. He had a nest of sorts right near every murder scene.”

“There was a burglary of a two-way radio from a construction site recently,” Reid reiterates.

Max nods. “That could be Roy. We only used UHF back then.”

“He’s looking for help,” Gideon says.

“And he’ll keep trying to contact operations command,” Max adds.

Hotch turns to the detective. “Detective, can we get a dozen UHF radios set up in this room, each of them tuned to each of the preset channel frequencies?”

“Right away,” Detective Fuller says.

“Wait a minute,” Max says. “When he calls, we need to be very careful with the communication, because we set up specific responses to contact op com so we could avoid hostile interception and to establish no danger signals. And we had specific names to identify our squad to the operator.”

“Do you remember the language you set up?” Gideon asks.

“I couldn’t forget it,” Max tells him. “Roy and I wrote it. The callout was ‘this is John Doe looking for Mark Rippen.’ Rippen was our hero at the time, number eleven, the quarterback for the Redskins in 1993.”

Gideon nods. “Now we know where he is in his head. If he calls in, we’ll be on the other end when he does.”

“What if he doesn’t call?” Detective Fuller asks. “What if he just kills someone else?”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens,” Gideon tells him.

Detective Fuller frowns. “Kinda easy for you to say. Now, this guy may be messed up, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has killed four innocent people. Now, why don’t we just do the grid search?”

“If you set up a grid search and he confronts one of your men, you’ll be planning a funeral,” Max tells him.

“I can guarantee you we’re right about his profile,” Gideon says confidently.

“He wants to get rescued,” you add.

Gideon nods. “All we’re asking is that you just give us a chance to bring him in.”

*   *   *   *   *

Once all the radios are set up, you all gather in the conference room.

“It’s channel eleven,” Detective Fuller says.

“You ready, Garcia?” JJ asks.

“I’ve got nat recon satellites all over the ward,” Garcia says over the phone.

“Stand by,” JJ says.

One of the radios makes a static noise. “This is John Doe looking for Mark Rippen.”

Gideon looks at Max. “Can you help us?” He hands him the radio. “You know how to do this better than we do.”

Max nods, taking the radio. “Roger that. This is number eleven, all clear.”

“Maxey,” Roy says over the radio. “Boy, am I happy to hear from you. I’m taking heavy fire. Request immediate extraction.”

Max takes a breath. “What are your coordinates?”

“Unknown,” Roy says. “I lost my land navigational aids. I went high but I don’t recognize anything. I don’t have a fix on my grid coordinates.”

You look at Max. “Is there any other way for him to signal his location?”

Max nods. “Did you put up any flags?”

Roy laughs. “Yeah, you bet your ass I did. I’m holding cover here!”

“Roger that,” Max says. “Hold your position.” He turns to Gideon. “He triangulated. We need to look for three large, colored flags. Maybe on rooftops. They’ll be identical in size and shape.”

“Did you get that, Garcia?” you ask.

“I got it,” she says. You can hear her keyboard clicking as she types.

“Number eleven,” Roy says over the radio. “Do you still read me?”

“Garcia!” Gideon says.

“I’m working as fast as I can,” she tells him.

“I can still read you, loud and clear,” Max says. “Stay put.”

“I found one!” Garcia exclaims. “I found one! I got them! I see… housing projects and a courtyard.”

“We need street names, Garcia,” Hotch says.

“Farmer and Capron! Farmer and Capron!” she says.

“I know where that is,” Detective Fuller says. “There’s some abandoned buildings right there. I’ll have construction sites to halt work and secure the streets.”

“He’s gonna expect men in fatigues,” Max says. “And a chopper as cover.”

“I can take care of the chopper,” Detective Fuller says.

“We’re in black SUVs,” Hotch says. “Tell him we’re security executives. You’re coming with us, we need to do this fast.”

“Tell him to stay there,” Gideon tells Max. “We’re coming to him.”

“Roy, we’re coming to you, buddy,” Max says over the radio.

*   *   *   *   *

You stay behind with JJ, Emily, and Reid as everyone else rushes out to meet Roy. Reid gets the call from Hotch and shakes his head at you and Prentiss. JJ is in the room with Mrs. Woodridge, who breaks down.

Later, once Mrs. Woodridge has left and everyone is packing up, Detective Fuller comes in. “Folks. Ah, look. Thank you so much for coming here,” he says. “No one ever makes this place a priority. We’re grateful to you.”

“I wish it had ended differently,” Emily says.

“Yeah,” the detective says. “Me too.”

You look around, frowning. “Has anyone seen Gideon?”

“Agent Gideon left some time ago,” Detective Fuller tells you. “Said he’d meet you all at the airport.”

JJ frowns. “Did he says where he went to?”

Hotch stands. “I think I know where he is.”

The rest of you pack up quietly and head to the airport.

NOTE: Fuckface, if you're reading this, fuck off and leave me alone and stop cyberstalking me.