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totothewolff · 7 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver. The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him.

Your clothes hit the ground.

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown.

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine."

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you.

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance.

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other.

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't.

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval.

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras.

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room.

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today.

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days.

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him.

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break.

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt.

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth.

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity.

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release.

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists.

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him.

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally.

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water.

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed.

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard.

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners.

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters.

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view.

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it.

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed.

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you.

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange.

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours.

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen.

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer.

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one.

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest.

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge.

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly.

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans.

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin.

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down.

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean.

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes.

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk.

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places.

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa.

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives.

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

You two have never talked about your future.

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever.

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries.

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot.

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky!

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation.

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you.

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you.

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong.

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening.

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see.

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party.

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch.

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body.

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away.

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch.

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him.

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips.

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

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gretavangroupie · 6 months ago

Text

Bluebird Lane - Chapter One

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Pining.

A/N: Gigantic, massive thank you to @gretavanmoon and @builtbybrokenbells for endlessly encouraging me with this one and daydreaming with me. I hope you all enjoy chapter one of what will be a sweet little mini series. Thanks for reading!

“God I hope this one works,” you groan, hitting your blinker as you make a right turn. The AC is cranked up to ten in an effort to combat the Nashville heat, but right now, in the heat of the day, it was a losing battle.

“This will be what? The fourth, fifth one you’ve toured?” Blake asks, her voice filled with laughter.

You shake your head as a smile passes your lips, “It’s not funny, Blake, and yes. Fifth, and this one has to work. It’s my favorite one and it's the last one that's in my price range.”

“Damn, did that other one fall through?” she asks, sounding sympathetic from the other end of the phone.

“Yes, my application was denied and they didn’t even tell me why. The others never even bothered to call me back. If this one doesn’t work out I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t want to do another year in an apartment,” you say, feeling your heart rate start to pick up as you get closer to the house. “I cannot bear the hour commute for a minute longer, and I have thirty days until I have to be out of my apartment now.”

“There’s nowhere else?” she asks.

“Not in my price range that’s close to work and has space for a little garden…” you answer, knowing that the last part isn’t the most important.

She laughs because she has listened to you talk about starting a garden for the last two years,“So what is your plan, then?”

“I’m going to go to this open house, make sure it looks like the pictures online, and if I like it, I’m going to see if they will let me do the application right there. Like, this is the one. It’s right by my office, it’s close to everything, and it’s right in the sweet spot of my budget.” you answer, chewing the skin on your bottom lip as you pull up to the curb. A nervousness washes over you as you lay eyes on the old house, “Okay, I’m here, please wish me luck. I have to get this, Blake.”

“Sendin’ up prayers to the big man as we speak,” she giggles, “Call me after, let me know. I’ll be sitting on my couch stalking my ex's new girlfriend.”

“Blake–” you start, listening to the line beep as she ends the call. You let out a laugh and shake your head, taking a deep breath as you look over the outside of the house. It truly is perfect, the sweetest little historic cottage you’ve ever seen. You felt drawn to it, even from the photos online. You knew it was your last chance at a house before you signed a new lease on an apartment you didn’t want.

You gather your courage and step out of the car, taking in the sights of the quaint neighborhood around you. Most of the houses on this street looked similar, in various states of aging. This one, however, looked well kept and cared for. The black numbers on the front porch post read ‘19’, and for some reason you just knew this house was meant to be yours, that is, until you heard the sound of a car door shutting behind you.

Out stepped a guy, dressed fairly nice with a pair of dark sunglasses perched high on his nose. His hair was long and hung over the shoulders of his dark blazer. You knew it was an open house, but you didn’t expect others to be here when you got here. You felt a twinge of competition spark within you, and you found yourself thinking that you would do whatever it takes to get this house instead of him.

The porch light was off and the front door was shut. You knew the open house didn’t start for another few minutes so you didn’t dwell on the fact that the realtor wasn’t there yet. You took the time to walk around the yard, taking inventory of the current landscaping and seeing if you recognized any of the well established plants. Much to your surprise you were able to spot a flourishing blue hydrangea bush, and some creeping Ivy on the side of the house. There seemed to be decent shade from the giant Oak tree that hung over the house, setting the perfect scene for your new garden. You could already picture the vegetables you would grow here, and prepare in the little kitchen inside. You were absolutely dead set on this house, and as you stood in the shade of the Oak tree admiring the greenery all around you remembered him.

He made his way to the side of the house, not caring at all about the plants the house was surrounded by, but looking at the foundation of the home instead. He crouched down at the crawl space entry, taking a closer look. You felt your eyes cut towards him, already feeling possessive over the home you wanted so badly. He shouldn’t even be here, this house was for you. His eyes flick over to you, noticing you watching him with your arms crossed across your chest.

“Cute place,” he says, peering up at you over his sunglasses. He seems smug, you aren’t sure if you like this guy too much. It doesn't help that he is mysteriously attractive.

“Sure is,” you answer shortly, not wanting to give him any inkling about you or your intentions.

You both snap your heads towards the road as you hear a car door shut, knowing the realtor must have arrived. You start to walk towards the front of the house seeing an older man make his way up the front porch steps and into the house, shutting the door behind him. You find yourself walking a little faster up to the front door in an effort to beat the man behind you, really wanting to make the first impression with the realtor.

In a huff you knock on the front door first, stepping back a few inches as you clutched your purse to your side nervously. The man finally joins you on the porch, standing a few feet away from you with both hands in his pockets, waiting for the door to open just the same as you are. You can smell his cologne wafting off of him, and while you can admit it did smell good, he was your competition right now, and you weren’t giving him the time of day.

Make a good first impression. This is your last chance at your own place.

Finally, after what felt like way too long, the front door swung open, revealing the sight of the older man in a pair of pressed blue jeans and a white t-shirt. A trucker hat sat atop his head, and a warm friendly smile was on his face.

“Well, hello there,” he said, waving the two of you inside, “I reckon you’re here for the open house, is that right?”

“Oh, um, yes sir,” you answer, looking suspiciously behind you at your competitor.

The older man flicks his eyes from you to the man behind you and grins, nodding his head as he hobbles further into the house.

“Well, alright then, sorry I kept you two. I’m Ralph, and this is 19 Bluebird Lane. Got two bedrooms and one bathroom, decent little kitchen to do your cookin’, and a nice family room. Yards’ just big enough to make ya’ sweat when you cut the grass, and the grocery store is just a few minutes up the road.”

You stand in the empty family room, taking a quick glance at the house and finding it has original wood flooring and vintage fixtures. Your heart swells as you imagine your things filling the space, and how you would decorate for holidays. It’s everything you ever imagined for yourself, and you have no doubts in your mind that this is the house for you. Your competitor walks around the house, the echo of his boots on the floor almost abrasive. He doesn’t say much, the occasional sound leaving his lips as Ralph continues to talk about the house. You try not to stare at him, but you can’t help it. You are hoping he will find it outdated or tacky and leave. You can only hope.

“You know Ralph, I have had my eye on this place for some time. Always caught my eye when I drove by, and when I saw it up for rent I knew I needed to come check it out. Hard to find these old Craftsman style houses in such great condition. What was it, built around the thirties I’d say?” The man asks, and you suddenly feel stupid. You could never even guess what year this home was built, and now his praise has gotten the leg up on you.

“Sure was son, built in 1931.” Ralph answers, positively beaming at the man's words. “I did my best to take care of her, put a lot of work into it years ago, and still today.”

“It definitely shows, it’s an amazing place.” the man says, sending you a smirk.

Ralph leads the two of you down the small hallway towards the bedrooms, gesturing towards the master bedroom and the guestroom. The bathroom for the home sits across the hallway from the two with floor to ceiling baby blue tile and a matching tub. A small window lights up the bathroom in the late evening sun, and if you close your eyes you can almost picture yourself doing your makeup at the sink, soaking away in the vintage tub, or opening the windows to listen to the birds chirp early in the mornings.

“Ralph, can I ask why you’re renting instead of selling it outright?” the man asks, rubbing his fingers over his chin.

“Well, son, because I have to pay for my new apartment. I don’t need this place all to myself and I know to sell it, it would need a lot of work that I don’t think I will be able to do by myself. I fixed a few things here and there, but I think renting is probably my only hope,” he answers, his features falling into a gloomy expression.

“I see,” the man says, “Well, I’m sure glad you are. This place is fantastic. I love that it’s all original fixtures.”

Shit. This is not going how you hoped.

Your eyes flick to Ralph’s, the smile returning to his face as he listens to the man speak kind words of his home again.

“What if you had someone who was willing to buy it as is, all cash?” the man asks, and suddenly you feel the blood drain from your face. He wants to buy it… You look at him with panic in your eyes, and you feel the hope of your dream house slipping through your fingers.

“It would have to be the right buyer. I ain’t gonna sell this to just anyone.” he pauses, “The developers have tried to buy me out of this place for years. Want to build condos just down the street and I won’t do it. ‘M afraid if I sell it to any old Joe Schmoe they will tear it down, and I can’t let that happen,” he says. “We sure did love this place. Forty years we lived here, and my parents before that,” he continues, reminiscing on times past.

“You and your wife,” you ask softly, confirming with him.

“Yes, my Gail. She loved this place. Said she never wanted to live anywhere else. We sure did fill this place with memories, but I have to tell you it’s just not the same without her. The memories hurt a little without her to share ‘em with,” he says, twisting his hands together.

“To be quite honest with you two, it was her dyin’ wish that this place would be home to another couple like us. I promised her I would try, and for several weeks now I have been havin’ people come view the house, and none of ‘em was ever a couple. It never felt right. I made that promise, ya know? I was startin’ to lose hope on it, then you two showed up at the door.” he says, letting his eyes meet yours.

You look over to the man standing next to you, seeing that he is just as perplexed as you are. You aren’t a couple. You don’t even know this man’s name. You decide that the best course of action is to tell the truth, “Oh we–”

“You know Ralph, we really do love the place,” the man interrupts, looking over at you with an indecipherable look in his eye. You recoil slightly, realizing that the unknown man next to you is playing into this poor man’s fantasy.

“A place like this is meant to house love. That’s all it’s ever known,” Ralph pauses, nodding his head. “I’ll tell you what, if you two like this place, I would be more than happy to rent it to you. Rent is twenty-one hundred a month, with the utilities.”

“That’s amazing, Ralph,” the man smiles, “Actually, would you mind giving us just a moment to talk about it?”

A smile crosses his face as he looks at the two of you, “Sure thing, I’m gonna go take a sit on the porch, you two just come find me when you’re ready,” he says, turning and making his way to the front porch. You hear the front door close and you turn to the man, practically fuming with anger.

“What are you thinking?” you scold, not even able to begin to process what could possibly be going through his mind.

“I’m thinking we both want this house,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Aren’t you going to try and just buy it from him?” you ask, pouting a little.

“Ahh, you know, coming into this, yeah. I think so, but I’ve had a sudden change of heart. I can see you have your heart set on it, and to be honest, so do I.” he pauses, starting to pace around the room. “He’s made it pretty clear he isn’t wanting to rent the house to a single renter, and I get that, so this is about the only option.”

“I don’t even know your name! Why would I– What are you, insane?”

A smug smile crosses his lips, “My apologies, I’m Jake.” he answers, peering at you through the lens of his sunglasses.

You cut your eyes at him a bit, trying to decide what to say, “D–Do you always wear sunglasses inside?”

Again, he smiles and nods his head, “Pretty often, yes. They are prescription.”

“Oh,” you squeak, suddenly feeling rude for asking.

“And your name is?” he asks, his voice a little deeper and more sincere.

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, do you want to live in this house?” he asks, leaning back onto the wall.

“I mean, yeah. I do, but I wasn’t planning on having a roommate,” you answer truthfully.

“Well lucky for you I'm practically never home,” he says. “Would only be here from time to time to sleep and do laundry.”

“And why is that?” you ask, as if it’s your business.

“I’m in a band, we travel a lot.”

“So why are you doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Because, like I told him, I like this house, I always have. It’s close to my office and my brothers and it’s not some cookie cutter new build. It’s what I want, but I know it’s what you want just by the look on your face when I talked about buying it from him. He doesn’t want to sell. He wants to rent it to a couple, and I’m pretty sure that since we both showed up alone, neither of us fit that bill.”

“So you– you want to just lie to that sweet old man and tell him that we are together?” you ask.

“Essentially, yes.”

“You don’t feel bad?” you question, your brows furrowing together.

A small laugh leaves his chest and a bright smile parts his lips, “Of course I do, but I’m trying to make this work for both of us.”

“You said you’re in a band…Is that your only job? Are you sure you can pay your part of the rent?” you ask accussingly.

An even larger smile fills his face, “Yeah, sweetheart. I can afford my share of the rent.”

“And you’ll clean up after yourself?”

“You won’t even know I’m here,” he nods.

For a moment you consider running out of the house. Running out and signing the lease on the shitty apartment across town and never looking back at this insane proposition. But something about the way he has presented this has you considering it.

“Can I think for a second?” you ask, pacing around the room.

“Be my guest,” he says, gesturing into the air.

You step out of the bedroom and walk into the kitchen, letting your mind play through various scenarios to try and come to a decision. Truthfully, you don’t really have another option. You had been ghosted on every other property you looked at. It was this or the apartment you didn’t want. This way you get the house you want, and the garden space you want, but for less money and half of the responsibility.

It seemed like a no brainer, but you were still feeling hesitant. Maybe you should keep looking. Maybe you should just let him have the house.

You open a kitchen cabinet, seeing a few old recipes still taped on the inside door, where they have sat for twenty years at least, and you feel your heart drop. You know you will feel awful lying about being with Jake, but at the same time, you know this place is the one and you can’t keep second guessing it.

You decide right there in that perfect little kitchen that you’re going to do it. You would rather live with a stranger than in a shitty, loud apartment for another second. With a deep breath you walk back into the bedroom, finding Jake taking a look out the window.

“How do you know I’m not a serial killer or something?” you ask, quirking a brow at him as he turns to face you.

He chuckles a little and shakes his head, “Well, I don’t. But I'm willing to risk it. Serial killers don’t typically seek out homes in the center of town while admiring the flower bushes...”

You suck in a deep breath, and let it go, licking your lips before answering him. “Okay.”

“Okay you want to do it?” he asks, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t really have another option.” you admit.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” he smiles, stepping forward and offering you his hand to hold.

Your eyes flick down to his outstretched hand before flicking back up to his face, “What are you doing?” you ask, a bit taken aback.

“I was hoping we could go tell Ralph the good news,” he smirks. “Kinda have to pretend to like me if we are going to sell this.”

You feel your blood run cold. You hadn’t considered that part until this very moment. It was just for a few minutes. You could do that, right? You placed your hand in his, letting him wrap his warm fingers around yours as he smiled, leading you out of the bedroom and towards the front door.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

You nod and step out onto the large wrap around porch finding Ralph sitting in a rocking chair.

“Did you two come up with a decision?” he asks, working hard to pull himself up out of the chair.

Jake pulls you closer to his side, never letting his hand leave yours, “We sure did, Ralph. We would love to rent this place from you. I promise we will take great care of it, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You feel a tingle in the pit of your stomach as the pet name washes over you, his eyes locked on you, urging you to answer his question.

“Um, absolutely. We both love it. It’s exactly what we wanted,” you agree, tilting your head to rest on Jake’s shoulder. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, and you swallow nervously.

“My Gail would be so happy. Thank you both so much,” he smiles, fighting back the tears coming to his eyes. “We can do the paperwork and I reckon you can move in a few days once the money is sorted.”

“I can write you a check for first and last month's rent and the security deposit today, if you’d like?” Jake offers, and you feel a twinge of shock. No wonder he laughed when you asked him about rent earlier.

“That would be fantastic, son. Boy you sure are makin’ this easy for me.”

“That was the goal, sir,” he smiles, following Ralph back inside as he pulls you along behind him.

—

You spend much of the next hour filling out the renter paperwork and sending the documents to the appropriate places. Jake definitely took the lead in all of this, writing the checks and getting the information to transfer the utilities into his name. You knew the two of you would discuss all of this later, but for now you just let him.

Ralph led you both out of the house, practically beaming as he walked towards his car. “I sure am glad you two came by today. I can tell that you two are perfect for this place. I will get all this paperwork sent off and get some keys made and be in contact with you by the end of the week.”

“Thank you so much Ralph, we can’t wait!” you smiled, waving as he got into his car and drove away.

Jake immediately drops your hand, and for some reason you feel a twinge of sadness at the sudden loss of warmth.

“Well, we did it,” he grins.

“I can’t believe he bought it,” you laugh.

“I can, you’re a great actress, I even believed it there for a minute,” he grins, giving you a subtle wink.

“So…Now what?” you ask, quickly remembering that things were not just that simple.

“Now, we figure out logistics I suppose…” he answers, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “Shit,” he grumbles. You take notice of the shiny silver wristwatch, wondering what he is late for. You stand awkwardly trying to figure out what to do next.

“I have to run, but we need to talk everything through. I know Ralph said he will call me when the paperwork goes through and the check clears, so I’d give it a day or two until I hear from him.” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Okay, so am I just supposed to wait to hear from you in the meantime?” you ask, feeling a little left out of the loop.

“Yeah, I mean, I can call you as soon as I hear from him, and I know we need to figure out the money stuff– actually, let’s just exchange numbers really quick, then we can figure all this out. I can call or text or whatever you prefer.”

“Oh, okay yeah,” you answer. You pull your phone from your bag and open your contacts, handing it to him as you reach for his. You quickly type your number in deciding to be a little cheeky as you add your name in as ‘Girlfriend’.

“I sent myself a text to make sure it goes through,” he says, placing your phone back in your hand. You smile and nod, locking your phone and putting it back in your purse. You hand his phone back to him, watching him shove it into his pocket as he turns to head towards his car.

“I’m really sorry, I hate to run like this but I am running really late to this thing, and really I don’t even want to go I just–Sorry, anyway, I will text you here in a little bit to see if we can’t figure some of this stuff out.” he says, walking alongside you to your car.

“No worries, I will start making arrangements for this weekend tentatively?” you ask, wondering if that's too soon.

“Yeah, I think that sounds good, I will do the same, and I can help you with whatever, just let me know.” he says, reaching for his car door.

“Alright, well, um thanks… for this, I will talk to you soon, I guess?” you giggle.

“Yeah, you will,” he smiles, lifting his hand to wave as he gets into his Jeep.

You wave as you get into your car, shutting the door behind you and letting out a breath. “Holyfuckingshit.” you breathe out. You had done it. You got your dream home. Maybe not the way you planned, but some way, somehow, you’d done it.

His tail lights lit up your face as he started his car, pulling away from the curb as you started your car. Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline of it all, and you knew you still had to call Blake to fill her in.

You turn your head to look at the house, the yellow porch light glowing in the dusky night, warm and inviting. Your heart lurches in your chest as you realize that is your new home, and though it’s not exactly how you thought things would go today, you couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

You both turn your separate ways, and as your car hits the freeway you hit the speed dial to call Blake. The call rings out twice before you hear her exasperated breath on the phone.

“Hello!?” she shouts, clearly feeling a bit concerned.

“Yes, hello…” you answer.

“What the hell! I thought you got kidnapped or something!” she continues, “You couldn’t text me or something?!”

“Well, things took a dramatic turn when I got there!” you laugh.

“What kind of dramatic turn?” she asks.

“Well when I got there there was another guy there to see the house at the same time. We ended up touring the place with the guy selling it, who is just the sweetest little old man named Ralph, and he was telling us all about his wife and how they lived their for forever, and at the end of the tour he basically told the two of us that he was hoping a couple would want to rent it because it was his wife’s dying wish or something…”

“Shit, so you didn’t get it, now what?” she asks.

“No, actually, see… I did get it. Well, we kinda got it.”

“Huh?” she yells.

“So the guy, his name is Jake, totally hot, you’d be obsessed with him, anyway, he wanted the house like, just as bad as I did. When Ralph said that to us he basically offered to buy it from him in cash and Ralph said no he wanted to rent it. So Jake kinda looked at me for a second, then when Ralph walked away he told me that he would be willing to rent the house with me if I wanted to.”

“Y/N, no. Oh my god, no?”

“I know, I know, it’s actually fully insane, but Blake what other option did I have?” you question.

“Wait so how?”

“We…kinda just pretended to be a couple. Ralph thinks we are together. Offered it to us on the spot. We accepted. Did the paperwork and all that. That’s what took so long.” you answer nervously.

“Oh my god, Y/N. Who even is this guy? He could be a murderer!?”

“He’s not. I don’t think... His name is Jake, he is in a band and they tour a lot apparently. Said he will hardly be around. It sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me,” you say. “He also fronted all the money for the thing. We are gonna talk about it soon I think. We exchanged numbers.”

“So right now you’re telling me that you are going to be sharing a house with a guy that you don’t know at all, don’t know his last name, don’t know a thing about him other than he is in a band and has a little money…”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” you laugh.

“And you’re not nervous about this, like at all?” she questions.

You laugh a little, “I mean, no. Something about him was oddly comforting. I could just tell he is a good person.”

“Do you know how insane this is?”

“Yes. But, I really had no other choice. I decided right then and there that I was not getting another apartment. Now sharing this house is going to be even less of a financial burden because it will be split in half. This is the best case scenario for me, Blake.”

“I know. And as crazy as it sounds you have the best intuition of anyone I know. I know you’re smart. You also sound really happy so…I guess I am happy too.” she says, the smile audible in her voice. “So, tell me about this guy, you said he’s hot…”

“Oh, I’m going through a bad spot! I will call you tomorrow! Love you!” you say, tapping the red button on the screen and ending the call. You toss your phone to the passenger seat as you switch lanes on the highway, making the hour drive back to your apartment. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, so glad to finally be rid of that place. This time next week you would be moved into your new place, enjoying the quaint neighborhood and the peace and quiet, and you were hopeful you wouldn’t regret the decision to take on an unexpected roommate.

—

JAKE POV

The gravel crunches as you pull into the parking space, throwing your car into park and twisting the keys in the ignition. You were late, really fucking late. You jump out, throwing the car door shut behind you as you sprint into the front doors of your office. It’s pin drop silent except for the sound of Josh’s voice echoing from the conference room.

“Fuck,” you mumble, knowing you aren’t going to hear the end of this.

You quietly make your way into the conference room, seeing Josh sitting across from the laptop on the table, listening as the interviewer speaks. He cuts his eyes to you as you shut the door behind you, placing your keys and phone on the chair by the door. He silently tells you to ‘hurry the fuck up’ as he turns back to the interviewer, making a joke about your untimely arrival.

You take the seat next to him apologizing for your tardiness and taking the brunt of the rest of the interview. You spent the next thirty minutes talking about the plans for the second half of tour and the excitement you held about making stops in Japan and Australia for the first time in several years. You finished out the interview on a positive note, knowing that as soon as the call ended you were going to catch some heat for being late.

Of course, as expected as soon as the call ended Josh turned to you with a sour look.

“Why the fuck do we schedule these meetings around your day if you can’t be bothered to show up at the time you fucking choose!?” he shouts, standing up from his chair.

“Look, I know. I was just down the street. I fully expected I would be here on time, it’s my mistake.”

“Where the fuck were you? You know I hate doing this stuff alone.” he asks.

“I finally got into that house over on Bluebird,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. He knew the house, you’d spoken of it often since your arrival to Nashville a few years ago.

“Oh, yeah?” he softens, “It’s for sale? You gonna buy it?”

“Wanted to, the owner doesn’t want to sell. Offered cash, too.” you pause. “Toured it and signed the lease just now. That’s why I was late. Probably moving in this weekend.”

“Shit, really? That’s– Okay.”

“Yeah, but…” you pause, swallowing nervously. “I seem to have acquired a roommate in the process.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Someone else was at the showing. She wanted that house as bad as I did.” you nod, rubbing your hand over your chin. “Something about her… I just couldn’t take it from her…”

“A girl…” he asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yeah, seem’s sweet. Super gorgeous. Her name is Y/N. She has no fuckin’ clue who I am, which, is even better.” you laugh. “The catch was that the owner wanted to rent it to a couple. His wifes dying wish or something… So, I talked her into pretending we were together so he would rent it to us. Kinda works out, she will be there to watch the place when we’re gone and she works so she won’t be around during the day…felt kinda, I don’t know. Just felt like the right thing to do.”

“Jake, you are moving into a house with a stranger.” he states.

“Yes,” you answer plainly. “But she is cool, I promise.”

“This is a bad idea,” he says, beginning to pace the room. “She could– I don’t know, I thought you wanted privacy– she might tell the whole world–”

“She won’t,” you interrupt. “I can tell. She won’t.”

“How do you know she’s going to pay her share?” he asks.

You laugh and shake her head, “Because the first thing she asked me is how I’m going to pay mine.”

He tilts his head in agreement, “Fair enough.”

“It’ll be good. Just trust me. I have a good feeling about it.” you urge. “I don’t know much about her, at all actually, but I know you’re going to like her.”

“Will be the first roommate you have had that isn’t me,” he smiles.

“And a girl,” you laugh, “But it will be fine. I want that house and if this is how I have to have it then so be it.”

“Whatever, man,” he sighs, “But definitely has nothing to do with the ‘super gorgeous’ girl, right?”

You smirk and shrug your shoulders, “You’ll see. You’ll get it.”

“Whatever, hey you wanna grab a bite?”

“Nah, actually, I need to uh– I need to get home, have some things to take care of.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow?” he asks, opening the door of the conference room.

The two of you walk towards the doors, shutting off the lights in preparation to leave, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you then.”

“On time.” he points, opening the door.

“F’course,” you smirk, knowing damn good and well you will be late to that too.

—

Two hours later you found yourself on your couch, watching highlights with a box of leftover Pad Thai. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you thought of your new place and how easily it fell into your hands. Though, you also found yourself feeling thankful for the girl who just so happened to arrive at the same place at the exact same time that made it so that things could fall into place.

You reached forward, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and settling back into the couch cushions as you unlocked the screen. You scrolled through your contacts looking for her name and to your surprise you came up empty. You felt a wave of panic wash over you as you looked again, still not finding it.

You sat up a little, trying to figure out what was going on until you remembered sending yourself a text from her phone. As you open your messages you smile, shaking your head as you see her contact, not labeled with her name at all, and instead, ‘Girlfriend’. You tap the thread, seeing your message to yourself as you type into the box to reach out for the first time.

You

8:13PM: Girlfriend, huh?

Girlfriend

8:17PM: It felt only appropriate…

You grin to yourself that she answered so quickly, and you wonder if maybe she was thinking about you, too.

You

8:18PM: Suppose you’re right, we made a deal after all…

8:19PM: Obviously I haven’t heard from Ralph yet, but I figured we could maybe figure out our end of things if you aren’t busy?

Girlfriend

8:20PM: Yeah, sure that works for me.

You glance at the time realizing it is kind of late, and you know she likely is working tomorrow.

You

8:22PM: You sure? I didn’t realize the time.

Girlfriend

8:23PM: Yeah totally! I was actually thinking about it earlier, and if you want I can just venmo you my share of the rent and utilities every month, that way it comes from just one of us and he won’t get suspicious?

You

8:25PM: Actually yeah, that would be perfect. I can just let you know how much when I get the bills?

Girlfriend

8:27PM: Yeah! Sounds good to me!

You

8:28PM: Also just so you know, in about three weeks I am leaving for tour and I will be gone for about two months. I will obviously still pay my half of everything, but you will have the place to yourself. Just wanted to give you a heads up.

Girlfriend

8:29PM: Oh, wow, thats barely enough time for you to get moved in and settled lol

You

8:30PM: Unfortunately that is just kind of how my life is, never can get too comfortable anywhere before its on to the next place.

Girlfriend

8:31PM: What’s your band called? Have I heard of you?

You laugh a little at her message, wondering if you should rip the bandaid off now, or later. But as your fingers type your answer you wonder if this conversation is better suited to a phone call.

You

8:32PM: Would you be opposed to a phone call? I feel like I could explain better than I can over a text.

Girlfriend

8:33PM: That’s fine!

Shit, okay. You didn’t think she would say yes. Alright, it’s fine. You’ve talked about this a thousand times. So why are you nervous?

You clear your throat and tap the phone icon, listening to the line ring out twice before she answers.

“Hi,” she answers, her voice soft and attentive.

“Hey, um, thanks for letting me call, I just feel like it’s a lot to explain over a text,” you laugh, swallowing down your nerves again.

“No, it’s fine I get it,” she giggles, “I mean, we kind of have to get over the formalities now that we are going to be roommates.”

You smile, thinking about how different your life will be in just a week's time, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

“Okay, so your band. What kind of music is it?” she asks.

“Alright, well, it’s rock music. It’s my brothers and I. We’ve been doing it for quite some time now, just moved to Nashville about three years ago, touring all over the place before that.” you pause, feeling your heart rate pick up as you dance around the answer. You don’t understand why you feel nervous to tell her, but something about her knowing that makes you feel like she may think differently of you.

“Okay I have google pulled up, I’m ready to research,” she laughs.

“No, no you don’t have to do that actually,” you say, “It’s just going to tell you a bunch of shit that they have been saying since we started the damn band.”

“The name, Jake…”

“Right, it’s Greta Van Fleet.” you answer, holding your breath a little.

“Oh, interesting name, completely different from what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” you smirk, crossing your feet on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, something, um…more hardcore, I guess?”

“Nah, we aren’t hardcore rock,” you say, “Common mix up.”

“Okay google says you are like, really famous.” she says, her tone suddenly sounding serious.

“I told you not to do that!” you urge.

“Oh gosh wait there you are! Those are you brothers? Oh my gosh how cute. Sick eyeliner, Jake…”

You feel a warmth creep to your chest, just the thought of her searching your band had your heart twisting up. “Close it, I’m begging. I’d rather you just ask me instead of the internet.”

“Four million monthly listeners on Spotify, holy shit.”

“Okay, yeah, we are doing pretty well,” you tease.

“Yeah I would say so! Oh my god, why are you moving into this house with me? You could buy like ten houses!”

“I don’t want ten houses, I want that one. And I never really planned on having a roommate. It just…kind of happened.” you say truthfully.

“I feel like I need to listen to one of your songs?” she says, and you can hear her typing on her computer.

“Wait, can you just–” you are interrupted by the sound playing through her computer speakers, “Alright.”

“I think I know this actually!” She sounds excited as she hears the riff of ‘Highway Tune’ play through.

“Yeah, that one is uh– yeah that's a popular one,” you smile, just letting her have her moment. You suffer through it, knowing if you interrupt her she will probably make you listen again.

“Okay, I get it now.” she says, pausing the song.

“Get what?”

“Your vibe,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Do you?” you ask, genuinely curious how that song in particular has told her anything.

“Yeah, kind of like old school rock and roll. I like it. I really like it.”

You feel a spark in your chest, and a smile crosses your lips, “Yeah, thank you. I– I really love what I do.”

She is quiet for a minute, “So you’re the guitarist I see.”

“I am, yes...” you answer hesitantly.

“So you’re going to keep me up all night playing,” she teases.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that. I do tend to keep late hours and I do like to work on stuff during those late hours, but I will do my best to keep my noise to a minimum,” you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

“Alright, fair enough.”

“Okay so what about you, then. You know what I do, what do you do?” you ask, letting your head fall back to rest on the couch. The sound of her voice is oddly soothing, and you let your eyes close as you listen to her speak.

“I’m a massage therapist,” she says, “I work at a little clinic near the house, which is why I wanted it so badly. I have been driving an hour to and from work for a few months now waiting for my apartment lease to be up.”

“An hour? Shit,” you groan.

“That house was actually my last hope. It was also my favorite one. I can’t even tell you how relieved I am that by some miracle it worked out.”

“Seems like it was meant to,” you say, feeling thankful. “So massage therapy, how did you get into that?”

“Actually my entire life I swore up and down that I was going to be a journalist, but when I found out I am a terrible writer I had to make some quick adjustments. I had a really long exam one day and scheduled a massage for the next day, and when I walked out of that massage I knew that it was what I wanted to do. I went to school, worked at a few different places until I earned my chops and ended up here. I got a job at Lotus Room a few months ago and everything just clicked. I know I am where I am meant to be and I look forward to going to work everyday.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. I have had my fair share of massages the past few years, playing guitar is actually a lot more strenuous than you may think.” you laugh.

“No I fully believe you, most of my clients these days are musicians.”

You raise your brows in surprise, “Oh really?”

“Definitely, maybe I can give you a roommate discount,” she jokes, laughing into the phone.

Her laugh brings a smile to your face, and you can’t help but laugh too. “I feel like a girlfriend discount would be better.”

“Oh it is, but you aren’t ready for that. And it’s not a discount, it’s a special.” You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, and you catch a hint of playfulness in her voice. You have no right to even let your mind wander with that one.

You decide you need to change the subject, keep things professional, “So, let’s talk about furniture.”

“Okay, yeah, I have a shitty couch and a coffee table, my bedroom furniture, and a small kitchen table and chairs.”

“So, I have mostly everything because I am in a house already, but I will leave the decision up to you since I can throw my stuff in a storage unit.” you say, hoping not to stress her out.

“I am going to go out on a limb and say that your stuff is probably a lot nicer than mine,” she laughs. You can hear that she is walking around her apartment, her voice softening as she sits down.

“My couch is pretty nice, I think it will fit well in the house, too. If you hate it we can do something else. I’m going to kind of leave things up to you since I won’t be around too often.”

“That’s generous of you, Jake.”

Something about the way your name sounded falling from her lips has you squirming on your couch.

“Yeah, no problem. I will send some pictures over to you and you can decide,” you say.

“Perfect. Anything else I should know about you as a roommate?” she asks, her voice sounding a little more tired.

“Not that I can think of. I am a pretty clean person. I try my best to clean up after myself so you won’t have to worry about that. As I said earlier I am kind of all over the place with the times I will be around. I like to cook, so that's a plus I think.”

“Oh, that is good to know. I like to garden, so maybe you can benefit from that.” she answers. You feel another spark in your chest at the thought, but you don’t let yourself linger on it for too long.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. Thanks for letting me call, I feel like this was good. I will let you know when I hear from Ralph, and I will send those pictures over sometime tomorrow.”

“Yeah, this was nice. I actually do have to go, I have a lot of listening to do before I go to bed since I am now suddenly roommates with some famous guitar guy.” she taunts.

“I hear he is overrated and kind of an ass,” you add.

“I guess I will be the judge of that,” she says playfully, letting a quietness fall between the two of you.

“Alright, well I’ll talk to you soon…” Some part of you doesn’t want to hang up. You shove that part back down.

“Talk to you soon, Jake! Goodnight…”

“Goodnight Y/N.” you say, ending the call and tossing your phone to the couch next to you. You run your hand over your face as you stare up at the ceiling, sitting in the silence as your mind replays the conversation and the sound of her laughter.

You know it’s only a matter of time. You know it’s inevitable. In fact it may already be too late.

That feeling in your gut told you so. Twice. You know you will fall for her. Your fate was sealed the minute you saw her admiring the flower bushes. The minute you signed those papers. You would have never offered the idea of being roommates if you didn’t intrinsically know your own fate.

You may be going into this as roommates, but you wouldn’t be coming out of it that way. Of course, that was still to be decided, but if you had it your way, you know what you would choose.

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cakesunflower · 9 months ago

Text

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her.

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car.

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut.

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her.

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this.

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding.

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore.

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything.

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out.

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him.

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn.

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath.

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states.

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property.

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly.

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would.

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin.

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back.

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps.

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens.

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone.

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on.

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”

286 notes · View notes

moseslikellamas · 6 months ago

Text

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.2

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Following the shock of a lifetime while out scouting the borderlands, Shanda deals with the fallout of her actions and makes plans to repeat the same mistakes.

Warnings - fem!reader, strained family dynamics, adult language, obsessive behavior, reckless behavior, braindead behavior, not cannon compliant, kieran burton fancast,

Word count 2.1k

2/6 currently

!Minors DNI!

Ahaha, this is going to be a pretty slow burn type of deal I think. But I am unhinged and cranked out another one before work 😤👍🏻🗣️ Next chapter will be more exciting, I promise. Also everyone involved in any romance is of age of course bc I don’t care about canon and no child marriages here.

Shanda didn’t stop running until she was back home in her own chambers. Shutting her door quietly, she stripped her soaked clothes off. The cloak would have to be mended and she would have to convince Royce, her younger brother, to take her out riding to cover for the rip. That would cost her but it was better than the alternative. Shivering, she quickly dressed for sleep before adding more logs to the dying fire in her harth, then seated herself in front of the flames. Only then did she allow her mind to wander back to the horrible encounter she’d just experienced. Why was the Blackwood heir on guard duty in the borderlands? It didn’t make any sense even if he had spoken the truth earlier. She moved like a shadow but no woman can be invisible. To send Benjicot to deal with a once off rogue spy was a move that was so strange it made her head spin.

Tomorrow she would talk to Martyn first, tell him mostly the truth of what happened and then convince him to let her out again. She had a good start on information for swaying her father but it wasn’t enough. If she went with tales of the heir and half heard secrets, he’d lose his mind at her irresponsibility. But if she found out what the heir was up to and confirmed what real problem the Blackwoods were having, well then he might see reason. He might for once appreciate having a slippery sneaking daughter who doesn’t know how to mind her own business.

Shanda awoke with a start, nearly toppling herself from the chair she’d fallen asleep in. No light shone in from the windows, her room was damp and muggy. Her night clothes stuck to her in an uncomfortable manner, sweat beaded on her brow as she rose to wash and dress for the day. The riverlands were often damp, hot and moist, the air thick with water. Gazing out the window she saw the torches lit and in the distance gathering clouds like a bruise against the gray sky.

Leaving her room, Shanda slowly made her way downstairs. She stopped along the way to make a comment to anyone passing by, making a point to be seen by many and accounted for undoubtedly. Then without pausing in the main hall, headed straight out into the yard to find Martyn. The guard shift was up at first light and though there was no light outside, she guessed it had only been a few minutes since the shift changed.

Martyn was waiting for her outside of the barracks and he motioned for her to walk with him. They began to circle around the yard, walking quietly and slowly together. Her brother was a short man barely an inch taller than her but he had eyes like a hawk and could shoot a field mouse clean nearly a mile away. Which was why he was always stuck on guard duty.

“Well out with it. I’ve gotta have a sleep too, you know?”

Shanda hesitated. What exactly was she going to tell him? ‘Hey so I got into a knockdown fight with the Blackwood heir last night who threatened to arrest me by the way for a made up list of crimes’. Well mostly made up crimes. That didn’t sound like a good idea.

Martyn spoke in her silence, “Did you bring the knife back?”

Shanda inhaled sharply, grimacing.

“About that, I maybe sort of-“

He cut her off, “Shanda please tell me you didn’t leave it.”

“I didn’t leave it per say. It was jostled from my hands, let's say instead.”

The look Martyn gave her was incredulous to the point of absurdity and it took all of her willpower not to laugh.

“Okay listen. Last night I found out the Blackwood heir has been relegated to guard duty. Overheard an argument between him and another guard.” She glanced around before continuing, the yard was still mostly deserted. “They were arguing about crimes being committed on their lands. I don’t know what crimes but it didn’t sound like they were too happy about it.”

“Benjicot was on guard duty? Wait, and you said the knife was… Did you fight the heir to Raventree?”

Shanda pointedly avoided looking her brother in the eye, a bit embarrassed of her behavior in the light of day.

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was Benjicot. I thought it was just some nameless guard!” She hissed agitated at having been caught in such a situation.

“Shanda, do you have any sense? The mother save you, I certainly can’t! If father were to find out...”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence. Shanda had been walking on thin ice lately. But it wasn’t her fault her father had no vision for house Bracken. She didn’t want to play second fiddle to the Blackwoods for the rest of her life. But he was set in his ways at his age and that meant ‘no sneaking into the borderlands to spy on our sworn rivals’. A foolish and dangerous act that she just couldn’t abide. Hence the sneaking tomfoolery.

“Look I need to get the knife back and I need to figure out what they’re up to. Surely this is suspicious behavior!”

Martyn only shook his head looking thoughtful.

“He could just be doing rounds.”

“In the borderlands? You don’t see our father wasting you there, why would they?”

Sighing heavily he replied, “I don’t know dear sister and I’m too tired to care. Don’t do anything stupid and I’ll see about getting you out again.”

Despite her best efforts her face still lit up at his proclamation.

“No promises. Now go away and annoy someone else for a change huh?”

“Sure thing Martyn. Sleep well!”

Waving him off, she waited til Martyn was out of sight before booking it to the stables. It was time to convince Royce now. A much harder brother to move. Royce was three years younger than her and though seventeen, still incredibly immature. Which was why he was in the stables and wifeless. Not that she had a better track record when it came to potential suitors but she could sympathize with women not wanting to spend a significant amount of time around him.

Entering the stables, Shanda could smell the fresh hay that was being spread out. Reminding her of her own duties she was neglecting while outside brother negotiating. The tasks would hold, this could not.

“Royce? Are you here?”

“No, go away.”

Groaning and already regretting the decision to talk to him, she made her way back towards the corral.

“Wonderful to see you brother.”

“As wonderful as an arrow in the eye. What do you want?”

Royce sat on a barrel, cutting an apple open and eating slices from the blade. In the distance, sounds of horses whinnying could be heard. Shanda decided to cut the pleasantries and get to the point.

“I want you to take me riding. Name your price.”

He smirked, weighing the statement while continuing to eat the apple. Mouth half full he said, “Get me out of the Sept gathering.”

She stood there mouth half agape. Get him out of the mourning ceremony? Genuinely speechless, she just stared at him for a full moment before shaking her head and gathering her thoughts.

“Right. That isn’t for a fortnight though and I need to go riding soon.”

He shrugged.

“Ugh. What else do you want?It’s already going to take a miracle to get you out of the ceremony. Which you should go to. ” She pinched the skin in between her eyes, exasperated.

“Well you shouldn’t sneak out at night but then neither of us is exactly the picture of a perfect person.”

That made her look up. “How did you..? Nevermind, mind your own business Royce. Figure out your price, we ride today. I don’t care if it storms, all the better. I’ll be back after dusk.”

Not bothering to hear his reply she left in a huff. Crossing the yard swiftly she made her way back inside, heading up the stairs into the library tower. Arriving in the room, the familiar sight of rows and rows of shelves met her eyes. Shanda takes the first real deep breath she’s had since yesterday as she sits at her desk. Already two messages have arrived, one about the recent steel shipment that she files away for a conversation with her father. The other is a letter from another of her brothers, Gerald who was currently doing bridge repairs.

Neither captures her attention and soon she finds herself in front of the window gazing out. Not at the yard below but at the trees in the distance. The leaves shimmer and twist in the blowing breeze, almost as if dancing to a hypnotic rhythm. What is the heir doing in the borderlands? The tall grass looks dark and forbidding, jutting up in front of the keep, weaving and swaying back and forth. How long has he been on guard duty? The clouds now a deep rolling luster of plum, illuminate as lightning strikes down the sky. Silently and slowly the rain begins to fall resolute. Would they put him on guard two nights in a row?

The first slow roll of thunder startles her back into the present moment. It didn’t matter, she decided, if he was on guard or not. She had to go back tonight, without Martyn. She’d wait longer, spend the day leisurely and then steal out in the dead of night. It was, of course, a foolish plan. That didn’t matter though, she’d be more prepared tonight and have a solid alibi lined up. It would be more foolish to waste this golden opportunity. All she had to do was make it through dinner, ride out with Royce, avoid martin and then sneak out of the yard tonight. After that she hoped only to find her knife and continue reconnaissance from a safe distance. Easy peasy right?

It was not so. The gods must truly find the riverlanders to be the most accursed of all beings. As the day progressed the storm grew to such a height it would’ve been impossible to ride out in it. It built much like it had the night before, growing to a cloying suffocating state that drenched any and everything. But it had given her an excuse to pull the ripped cloak out and wear it outside as she raced to meet Royce in the stables. Unable to ride didn’t mean he was unable to assist her in this endeavor. All she needed was a warm body and a viable excuse for why her very nice cloak had a nasty gash through the side.

The storm raged against the stables and the horses were restless in their stalls. Royce was sitting, relatively dry she noted, on a stack of hay.

“No riding out in this, sister.”

Shanda smiled, nodding. “I agree.” Then she grabbed a horse shoeing tool off the table and ripped at the already torn cloak.

Satisfied it looked like she’d clumsily tripped into a workbench and once stuck had ripped herself free of it. It was believable enough and she’d already made a deal with Royce for his support should she be questioned too much about it.

“No worries brother. We spent the evening playing games and watching the storm clouds. After which I tripped and ripped my cloak. Very sad and wholly unavoidable.”

“Whatever. Just get me out of the ceremony.”

“Of course. Anyway, I’m going to my room now.”

Departing from the stables, she was immediately soaked through but she did not return to her chambers or even the main keep. Instead she made her way into their private sept. It was freezing and the dim light threw wild shadows against the white stone walls. Only a few small candles lent any light to the room but she was unafraid, striding in and standing before the one stained glass window they owned. On it was a rainstorm depicted and in the dim flickering light the window shone iridescent. The window also depicted a large tree, white with branches ever reaching up. She felt small in the shadow of it.

“Can I help you dear?”

The scratchy voice of old septa Beck made her jump. Her head was in knots today. Why had she come here again? She couldn’t remember. Did she even have a reason? She glanced back at the window, forgetting about the septa. Lightning flashed and the leaves on the window seemed to weep red in the light.

“No. No thanks, Septa Beck. I was just saying a quick prayer before bed.” Shanda smiled gently at her before casting the window one last look and leaving the sept. From there she did return to her chambers, it was time to prepare and plan

Pt.3

#house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood #ben blackwood x oc #bloody ben x oc #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house blackwood #house bracken #asiof fanfic #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfiction #hotd #hotd x oc #hotd season two #benjicot blackwood x oc #davos blackwood #rivals

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therealslimshakespeare · 7 months ago

Text

Am I Still Your Favorite Escape?

Gale & Maureen -requested? ✔️

As a new year and a new unrelenting malaise settles over the prisoners in camp, Maureen Kendeigh finds the journey from viewing Gale Cleven as her prize collector’s item to the man others suspect she loves most harrowing indeed.

Note: y’all wanted handjobs and I gave ya one, with a twist, and yall wanted more of what Maureen is thinking during this time and so you got it. Along with 6k of other dynamics and plot and feelings, buckle up 👐🏻

Warnings: 18+ smut, female fingering, some cum play, semi public sex acts (not trying to be exhibitionists, but the place is packed ok?) erectile disfunction, not the most supportive attitudes towards partners feeling out of sorts, BUT ALSO!! Please note the typical universe warnings apply with an addition in this chapter being a discussion about terminating a pregnancy, those discussing it disagree strongly and due to religious beliefs one refers to it as “murder”. No action is taken in this chapter. There are hints of Buck x Bucky in this one, although can anyone actually define for me wtf was going on!? Because by Buck x Bucky I just mean they’d die for each other and that’s stronger your average marriage and Bucky maybe should look away when his friend gets some midnight loving, lol.

Maureen had been enthused at the outset. Not that she cared that much for subversion, but she enjoyed the feeling of mischief that their new task carried with it. Camp had proven dull, worse in many ways than she had even expected. She had expected there to be work if not recreation, and while there was some, then the winter months came all too soon and nothing about their shelters or their clothing were suitable for sustaining outdoor productivity.

Which meant she -and the others, she supposed it was only right to admit the others were no better- she had been cooped up in here during a never ending snowstorm outside, watching Gale sand his little board in a room muggy with pungent sweat and stale breath. They were packed on top of each other in here and any attempt to get fresh air earned one a case of frostbite.

That bit of wood was going to become a radio, Gale had told her, and she believed him. With all her heart Maureen believed him. But there came a day when watching Gale fiddle with a safety pin stuck atop a board became unarguably boring. So much so she had begun to insist she be allowed to help Brady and Crank haul in the hot water and assist in what went for “cooking” in this place. Johnny didn’t let her near his precious concoctions after having ousted Benny from the same, but he did let her hand him bowls and generally act useful at mealtimes.

She kept him entertained with stories of picnics in exotic places, safari’s where they cooked out of the back of her father’s jeep. Brady had them eaten all his terse quips about her not knowing how to manage in straitened circumstances and instead asked her endlessly about rhinoceros habitats. It served to entertain her for awhile, too.

Bucky had recovered after a few weeks abed, his movements remained stilted and she could still carry more water than his ribs allowed -a point she made to him daily as he swatted at her from his bunk- but as he recovered he became preoccupied.

Ida had also recovered, though not as thoroughly, having gone well over a week without so much as drinking water in her insensible state. She was weak, feverish and upon at last being plied with nourishment, she puked it right up. It was little cause for concern considering her illness, but as she grew stronger and her stomach remained contrary, some unease began to grow. By Christmas her brother Johnny had taken over the cooking in an endeavor to make something palatable but the woman was hardly the sort to be picky over her victuals. Benny and Brady’s watery soups were alike and they both came up within fifteen minutes of being eaten.

So then, their little room smelled of sweat, breath and vomit. Her brother and Hambone made mention of Crosby, it provided levity for a few days and Maureen was fast to join in. Until Ida had her at a private moment, the men in the hall or else out with latrine duty, and then she asked Maureen if she’d had her menses.

Offended at the implication that Gale Cleven would allow her any more than a mouth or handful of himself, Maureen hotly insisted she had. Three of them in fact, since arriving. She had the bloody rags to prove it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when there began to be a very segregated group of men hovering and debating amongst themselves that Maureen began to second guess such an inquiry as more than moralistic judgment. Their Red Cross packages arrived with canned goods and bland crackers. Bucky began to bargain for the latter with a gambler's gusto -before inevitably handing his loot to Ida. Ida herself began gambling fiercely, for smokes.

Ida had never smoked in her life.

And now the place smelled even stronger of one more cigarette, sweat, breath and vomit.

The smokes seemed to help her, or at least, Maureen noticed her puking less by New Years. The early part of the new year brought new misfortunes, the confiscation of Cleven’s prized radio and a rash of miscarriages amongst the women. A rash was perhaps an exaggeration -only three or four, by Maureen’s count, and between her’s and Ida’s and Cleven’s discreet insistence, such incidents were passed off to the wary guards as heavy menses.

Maureen realized then that those were pregnancies from their guards, a possibility that she had not considered as she had not had reason to worry about it. That is, until Ida Brady caught her again at a moment alone, and asked her in the closest thing to feminine fluster that Maureen had ever seen her in, if she’d ever had reason “in your expeditions, as it were…” to possibly “eliminate a -poor decision?”

Being quite puzzled by this inquiry, and only picking up on the vague aspects -something she admitted to Ida straight away- Maureen admitted she drank most of her poor decisions away, a strategy that hadn’t failed her yet and she wished was at her disposal in this frozen mud pit.

“I’m speaking of- romantic decisions. Poor ones.” Ida had tried again, yearning for understanding in her voice.

Maureen remained nonplussed.

“A child, Maureen a-a pregnancy have you ever?” Ida hissed out at last.

“Gosh no.” Maureen sputtered, “I’m not a full idiot. Why would you ask? I strike you as enough of a harlot?”

“I’m merely looking for -remedies.” Ida pinched at her nose, a motion Maureen was familiar with watching in Gale when he was overwhelmed.

“Who needs it?” Maureen scoffed, quite sure that the odds didn’t stand many more girls suffering from the same, the poor food and rough conditions having ensured it for them.

Ida took her hand away but closed her eyes, mouth folding to a straight line. “I do.”

“Oh fuck.” Maureen plopped down beside her on the bunk in disbelief, they both stared at the opposite wall and its identical beds with rumpled bedding and starlets pasted on the walls. “Fuck.”

“They’re getting very stupid about it.” Ida said at last.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“The boys.”

“You’ve told the boys?” Maureen cried out, infuriated.

“They guessed, already, for God’s sake must even this be about you, too, Kendeigh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means while you’re bored and very vocal of it, some of us might die-“

“-we could all die in this shithole-“

“-or! Or worse,” Ida cut in fiercely, “have someone die for us by being idiots. Bucky is full of schemes of -of running off into the sunset. I suppose after he levitates us over the barbed wire with his magic carpet. I don’t know, but I- Maureen I know that if I go on much longer, it won’t just be me in danger. They’re either going to risk something terrible or get punished for not reporting me.”

“So what?” Maureen asked dully, having been excluded from an obvious inner circle regarding the issue and having now been accused of being trivial in her own sufferings, it smarted and she could not deny the flicker of unfairness she felt over it. “Want me to shove a coat hanger up you? The others too chicken?”

Ida visibly recoiled beside her, putting more space between them in the bunk. “I’m not going to- to kill it.”

“What kinda remedy doesn’t?” Maureen sassed, if they were to talk no longer in flippant pleasantries, she could do that.

“I’m just asking for help.” Ida’s jaw wobbled, her voice a wreck of desperation and Maureen could see with a small and ugly bit of satisfaction that the woman was truly close to losing her grip. It was satisfyingly human. As was her reaction to a remedy after asking for it.

“You come to me because you think I’m loose enough to know, and then you have the nerve to be appalled when I do.” Maureen pointed out, “That what all the smokes are for?”

“Yes.” Ida put her head back in her hands.

“Just won’t budge; huh?”

“No.” her voice sounded like she might be crying but there was no telling with those hands in the way.

“It would be stubborn.” Maureen muttured, thinking of the goddamn Brady family as she knew them. “Why won’t you get rid of it? You want to get rid of it-“

“-I don’t understand why it’s hanging on!” Ida’s wail came out garbled between her fingers.

“So let’s -unhang it.”

“I can’t. Kendeigh -I can’t.”

“I know it’s risky, but I know you’re not scared of dying.” Maureen muttered, attempting to understand.

“Candy I cant, I can’t murder it.” her voice had dipped into a sacrosanct whisper.

Maureen huffed in confusion, a substantial amount of pragmatism warring with what tiny bit of sympathy the threat left her, “It’s a German’s, at this size no more than a blo-“

“It’s a life!” Ida snarled back at her so viciously Maureen contemplated the likelihood of her having gone fully mad, “And it’s mine.” she rebutted, pointing to her chest fiercely.

“So you’ll let Bucky and Gale die for you, die trying to get you out of here but you won’t try to fix it yourself.” It was how Maureen saw it, and if she were to be accused of suggesting murder, she might as well have her side put out there, too.

“That’s how you see it?” Ida muttured, looking utterly defeated.

“If Gale dies over this, I’ll wring your neck myself. Keep smoking.” she advised with a shrug, “Maybe catch an elbow to the gut if you can.”

Ida pulled her hand away again to look at her, she’d definitely been crying then, red nosed and watery eyed, but she looked less aghast now than she had at the mention of the coat hanger. Maureen didn’t think she wanted condolences about it, or a pat on the back. Come to think of it, Ida was getting plenty of that sort of doting from the boys. No, Maureen didn’t feel like she needed that from her, and something sour and twisted in her heart made her loath to give it.

It worsened as the days went by, as Maureen observed their once innocuous routines with new eyes, noticing the boys' furtive plans, their hovering concern, their brought in provisions -offerings fit for a queen. It was understandable to show such care for her in her state, and ostensibly no one deserved it more than Ida Brady. But it left Maureen feeling adrift, like an afterthought, someone whose greatest challenge was their boredom. And ever looming were those great risks the boys bantered about like it were all a low stakes game of cards.

She plays thirty to forty sets of cards with Hambone, decimates Benny at chess, cleans the pans, even mops the goddamn floor. All to keep busy, perhaps even to spite Ida whose one assigned task is the floors. She cannot be accused of boredom or idleness if she has done all her own tasks and others’ besides.

In her spare time she would like to go with Bucky, to be of use in collecting things for Gale’s new little project, his precious crystal radio, but where women go -there go guards and attention and soon, the sheer mischief of the naughtiness of Gale’s construction wanes as she is left laying in her bunk watching him wiggle a clothespin around for the fifth day in a row. She had been so understanding for the first four. Even though she had contemplated a tiff with him over not informing her of Ida’s state as soon as he knew, she had been merciful and instead settled for holding the copper wire for him and brushing his cheek when he didn’t actively shy away in concentration.

He mumbles about needing to give it his full attention, about her needing to keep a lookout, about the danger of getting caught. She asks if it’s worth it then, anything that might get him killed is her enemy, even if it’s a little clothespin on a board. He looks at her like she’s from mars, unable to fathom why she wouldn’t understand its necessity. And he doesn’t come to bed until an ungodly hour of the night and immediately, upon settling in their bunk he is asleep, much to her chagrin.

She would have liked a kiss, a hand between her legs even more. She would have settled for those whispering little chats they’ve indulged in ever since Bucky laid atop Ida and all rules were broken -they’ve shared a bunk and as the winter gets worse, no one bats an eye. In fact, everyone’s stacked two for one, male and female alike. Brady and Hambone snicker and whisper in their bunk every bit as much as she and Gale do, Maureen is sure of it.

Instead Gale falls asleep. And he does it again and again, night after night. Bucky rummages on his own for supplies. Brady frets over Ida. Only so many people can play makeshift bat gammon in the hall. It does not pass the time. And Maureen grows ever more restless.

She feels expectantly happy when Gale’s work is finally complete, his finished product constructed and the moment of truth comes. They crowd around and wait with baited breath as his finger tunes it. And Maureen knows she is fully awful for her relieved feelings when it does not work. He can’t be killed for it if he scraps it. And he will come to bed at a reasonable hour now it is useless. The shake of his hand makes everyone else feel helpless in the face of his ever steady composure cracking, but while Maureen has no acceptable remedy for Ida’s plight, she does for Gale’s, and she waits for darkness with the relieved excitement of a child on Christmas Eve.

Gale does indeed come to bed, the radio not fully scrapped but heartily abandoned and hidden with its various parts in sundry places. And when he slips beside her, his nose is cold and he touches her like he has missed her. He pulls the covers to their chins, tucking them in with a small giggle, she is suffocated by it and yet he persists and this has gone on all winter until now it is their inside joke and he does it just to make her laugh, and when she laughs so does he, a honest little giggle of a thing, and she misses him worse than ever even as he pressed along the length of her.

It isn’t safe yet, not everyone is asleep but she bides her time with kissing him and he returns her caresses ardently, a thorough press of his lips and his tongue unreservedly sliding into place alongside her own, his hands warming up as they clasp her neck, turning her head upon their pillow. She wonders if they are loud even at this, but she was never the one to care, it’s Gale who objects and who hushes them, who makes them wait, who insists on being courteous even in hell, who only allows himself to lap at her when the place is abandoned or else full of the atmospheric noises of masculine snores.

Maureen does not mind waiting for him, or rather -she does, but he is implacable about it and when she attempts to persuade him otherwise she is oftentimes swatted and put in her place like a wayward child. Such correction holds a charm of its own when it is Gale Cleven administering it, but tonight she feels close to madness if she does not get her way so she allows him to kiss her as the quiet and steady breaths around them herald the unconsciousness of their brethren. She grows bolder, throws her leg over his hip and tugs at his buttons, hands rucking up his shirt and parting the heavy flaps of his coat. He is as burdened with layers as a Victorian maiden and Maureen enjoys the hunt for warm skin, the way he looks as ravished and expectant as any girl while she gropes at him, when she finally reaches him he always shudders, a full bodied thing that jerks even his neck.

Tonight she parts his layers feverishly and he mutters her name, again and again and his hands are clumsy at her shoulders and no progress is made on discarding her own clothing but she pays it no mind, she is direly hungry for him. Any touch of him, to make him shake and melt and pay tribute to her.

“Maureen.”

She finds the button of his trousers right at his heaving naval and she exults at the feel of the fine trail of hair beneath her fingertips.

“Maureen.” his voice grows urgent and she doesn’t heed it, he counts on her never heeding it.

She wiggles her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and skims the hairy plane of his pelvis before laying her hand on what she needs and -he is as limp as a dead mouse. She holds the chubby thing for a good long moment, very much like it were some useless rodent she had caught and must now dispose of, and she is filled with confusion.

“Maureen-“ he mutters again against her unmoving lips and she realizes with misery she mistook his pleading for a different sort.

It is not that she’s never felt him soft, on the contrary, there was a long time in the early days -when she wanted him and he wanted a promotion- that her hand would find its way between his legs, in a jeep or a bar, beneath the table while he helped her with her calculus. Once she felt him she became mildly obsessed, he was always tucked to the right and he was so substantially long and full beneath her palming, even in repose, that her determination to have him was only further cemented by it. Again and again her hand made it into his lap and again and again he would rebuff her, sometimes with startled propriety, occasionally with long suffering disbelief, more and more with almost parental disapproval.

Each reaction had been as satisfying to Maureen as if he were swelling into her palm. And soon enough, he was doing that, too. His hand growing a beat too slow before he grabbed her wrist, his mouth still twisted in dry reproof but his eyes began to burn. He was unbothered no longer and it was not much longer after that he was not even resistant.

Ever since, she could count on him to perk, to respond, to validate her own want of him with his own for her.

The fact it was in many ways a tortured surrender on his part only drove her madder, made her desire burn brighter, made the succumbing of the good, the right, the proud man all the more intoxicating. And again, as if they’d never shared all that, he was now as warm and floppy as a dead dormouse.

“Maureen.” he begged, half expecting tears again like her first night in the stalag, wincing as her hand squeezed him meanly, jerked at him a few impotent times in an effort to fluff him.

Her hand withdraws and he holds his breath, ready for a scene or a rebuke. His gut twists miserably, at fault twice over and yet -not really. But that never mattered with Maureen. He says her name again but she is still and deflated, and after a moment, she merley rolls over, giving him her back.

That is how he knows she is hurt, were she angry she would not have shrunk from being crueler than a few angry tugs. The silence is new and it makes Gale’s stomach swoop in an odd terror, like his next decision might rescue them both or plunge them off a cliff.

“Maureen.” He tries again, his hand on her shoulder, squeezing and trying to turn her back.

Her shoulder jolts up sharply to displace the gesture. “I’m not cold.” she informs him as she rolls further away towards the wall, and her tone is icier than the weather outside. He’s stunned, she’s never once ignored him, no it’s always ever been an escalation of her demands for his interest. Hell, even in Africa she had said she was cold and the presence of her head on his shoulder disrupted his tan, he got no end of grief from the boys about it.

Confused and mildly hurt himself, although he doesn’t know why, not beyond some tickling sense of unfairness about being blamed for being a bit out of sorts in the place, Gale takes his hand away and moves to lie on his back, to keep from crowding her. He thinks that in the morning he will explain to her how he is preoccupied with the radio, that his gut feels in constant free fall from the plans to escape, that everyone is riding on him for this thing to work and he just proved tonight he’s perfectly worthless at it. Nothing but buzz in his ear echoes around in his head and he replays the sound of that failure again and again, justifying her frustration with him. He thinks he’ll explain this all to her in the morning. And also-

-that he is cold.

He’s so damn cold from the anxiety and being still at his work at the table for so long his hands and legs go numb that he simply cannot imagine feeling bothered at this moment, cannot imagine it and it would seem that neither can the little guy. He doesn’t deserve a reward, not for fucking up at the one thing they’ve got going for them. He catches Bucky’s eyes when he rolls over, having taken up night shift over Ida due to insomniatic tendencies. He wonders strongly if Bucky would be as disappointed in him, if he is already. Just wait until next morning, Gale thinks, when I get to admit I’ve got no second plan. If it doesn’t work as is, no amount of fiddling is gonna make it better.

That settles heavy in his gut but does nothing for the swooping feeling, there is merely a loadstone in his belly, plunging downward in a perpetual free fall, and in his dreams the accompanying soundtrack is radio static.

There is a tiny sliver of freedom in the morning -and it does not come every morning- when Maureen has noticed there is still and quiet yet the morning routines are in place. Lazy and weak, the prisoners do not rise with the sun, although some stir and moan and try to meet the new day head on. The guards unlock the doors and yet many choose to lay abed. So many in fact that Johnny Brady ceased making breakfast at that hour as with so few ready to eat it, the ordeal became a waste. He does often fetch water for morning pit baths and teeth brushing, the occasional splash on the face to wash off the sleep.

Maureen has often contemplated these little slivers of time as a chance to break free. Not of the compound, that endeavor holds no fascination to her, but rather out of this combine and out from under the watchful eyes of people who know her all too well. Or think they do. They don’t, they very obviously don’t. And she’s losing all sense of who she is to be known by as the days go on.

She listens as Johnny gathers the buckets and milk pails, always gentle with the clanking metal, vestiges of the considerate boy his mama raised still clinging even in this place, and he hands an allotment to Hambone who is awake with him and less considerate.

Then there is the hushed flurry of beratings and the sleepy protests of trying one’s best.

They leave together, and they leave the door adjar as usual, to come back in quietly if needed. They’ll be gone for at least fifteen minutes, then they will come back and then Brady will leave again to run his two goddamn laps around the compound while that testicular looking bald headed doctor clocks his pace. Maureen doesn’t think Johnny likes running track or ever did it before, but he and Ida both took it up, the latter probably to get rid of the child and the former maybe to stay warm. The doctor didn’t care about the timing of Ida’s laps and soon she began to grow too large to risk attention by keeping Johnny company.

Now Johnny runs his timed laps alone and the only motivation Maureen can imagine for it, beyond the over-familiar assessment of his limbs by the doctor, is the chocolate he earns from it. Priceless sugar to keep up his specimen’s strength in this starving place.

Chocolate Johnny regularly gives to Ida. Though for Christmas he made them all a mashed chocolate pie on a tin plate and it had honestly been the kindest and loveliest Yuletide treat anyone had ever given any of them.

Maureen has considered running with him, trying her luck and seeing if she can win chocolate herself. Maybe that would make Gale smile. She doubts the doctor would care, he’s curiously uncaring regarding the existence of females in camp.

Maureen knows all these sounds of morning routine by heart, can track the progress of each stage of the routine while feigning sleep, motionlessly facing the wall.

Gale has no need to feign, it would seem. He is not snoring but he is whimpering and muttering in that annoying way of his that only occurs when he’s in deep. She used to think it cute, she now thinks it helpful to judge if he is able to catch her at her scheme.

-useless fucker with his useless radio and his useless cock, making her feel useless-

Careful as a cat, and with as much grace, Maureen rolls herself upright, and uses the slats of their upper bunk to balance her weight, keeping the mattress from giving a tell-tale dip. She swings from one slat to the next, carefully crouching when the movement jars the whole frame but Benny stays asleep below her and Gale makes no move to arrest her. It’s a feat to drop soundlessly to her feet after such a climb in a full overcoat, but she manages it. Her boots are under Benny’s bunk and she fetches them with no small amount of terror, but despite his shifts and erratic movements, he does not catch her.

She takes the boots into the hall, which is gratefully empty, and fastens them there. Taking her woolen cap from her coat pocket, she puts it atop her head while tucking in her hair, and fastens her scarf high over her nose, and knows that she is about as inconspicuous in form and feature as the next man. When Brady is bundled similarly his eyes appear as gentle as a woman’s and Maureen knows her own are no longer half so beguiling, not with their pale lashes and absence of cosmetic relief.

Perhaps she’s grown so wane and bland Gale has even lost the ability to pretend attraction. He always was fastidious about cleanliness and order, fussy and volatile when she took him unawares. In fact, when she had first managed to get so far as to undo his pants, to fondle his half hard length, to pull him from the slit of his drawers, to tug his shaft to orgasm, it had been beside the antiseptics. And that had some sort of parable in it, she thought now. Recalling how she’d had to talk him down off a panic as soon as he had shuddered and given her the sought after reward, hot and sticky and plentiful as only a virgin’s would be. He was not comforted until gauze and betadine was used copiously to clean her hand, and the nurse was later puzzled as to why when she entered only one had needed treatment, but both left stained with the orange stuff.

Back then a word, a flick of her eyes would have Gale in full pursuit, bodily if not mentally. She could wage a war with his ever so impeccable spirit and win it with the help of his own flesh. Now? Now he couldn’t even respond, not even pretend it. And he’d tried to warn her and she’d thought he’d been begging and she realized he wanted to stall her, keep it from her, one more thing.

These thoughts carried her dozens of rows down, combine after combine, lost in a flurry of snowflakes that were turning gradually pink as the sun rose. It was beautiful here before all the footprints ruined it.

At the far end of the sector, outside the last combine before the fence that separated them from the Brits, Maureen spotted a huddle of men gathered around a fire pit. She hadn’t known those were even allowed, not doubting that its proximity to the fence had some other subversive reason beyond warmth, and if she thought it then the guards must have. Yet here it was alright, jugs hung over it from a makeshift spit and crackers impaled and being toasted on the same. Maureen’s mouth watered, as much at the thought of genuinely smoke flavored food as she did at the heat. She was still undecided as to her course of action when a loud guffaw, followed by a familiar and harsh curse made her startle.

Polish airmen -or, at least by way of America. They would be sat out in the cold at dawn and they would toast their crackers. Maureen had frequently used her brief passes from Thorpe to terrorize other officer clubs, finding the joy of it a great distraction and some of the girls had joined her at it. She was usually greeted in such escapades with shock or even disgust but the men’s flailing helplessness in the face of a female serviceman always served as a full quota of contentment.

No one had terrorized her back as good as she gave until the Poles. And then they had bought her a drink, and lamented with her that she had not become a fighter pilot. Because Maureen still held a flame for the small craft, resentful that her decent piloting had been considered too poor for the clunky birds, for she knew she wasn't all bad, it was merely those awful forts and their terrible bulk. The Poles had agreed and bought her another drink, and tried to seduce her to their squadron. That had been a happy night and she’d come back to barracks so late as to break curfew, and chatted Gale’s ear off in drunken joy about her wonderful time and her new friends.

Maureen now eyed the fire in the snow and the group of foreign speaking men around it and tugged off her cap, allowing her hair free. And she sauntered up with calculated aimlessness, as if she were indeed only checking out their s’mores to ridicule them compared to her combine’s delicacies. It was effective, they defended their crackers vehemently and she remained derisive, this called for a demand that she try them and so she did and admitted they weren’t too bad but were too dry to be gotten down her throat. So they then passed her coffee and she had to squat to receive it and then she was given a seat to finish it and before long, she was one of the huddle and her feint at leaving them was argued against so heartily she knew she’d won, and so she stayed and played cards and told stories and drank hot water with boys who had been born over here but were in many cases educated not far from her house. And when afternoon came and went she stayed, and when evening fell and the guards became stricter with the perimeter and their fire, she snuck in with them into their combine and there played drinking games despite the violation of curfew.

For the Poles had liquor in this hell hole. And that, Maureen thought, was the true measure of a great nation, their capacity for ingenuity and irrepressible spirits.

Gale entered his own combine in the falling dark with the persistent press of a gun barrel at his lower back, right about at the kidneys, he figured. It was the only thing possible to persuade him to keep from looking, and the others were filing in right ahead of him, saving him a bullet their only motivation for abandoning the search. The guards locked the door after them, and Gale’s chest heaved in panic at the thought of her out there somewhere and locked out and him locked in.

“Fuckin’ Kendeigh.” Murph grumbled but without any heat,

taking himself to his barracks.

Bucky kept pacing up and down the hall with his hands in his hair, snapping at anyone who dared clog his promenade. “Jerries said it was time for bed -so get in your goddamn beds!”

“Why would she do this?” Gale begged him again and Bucky huffed again at it, furious for him.

“She give you grief last night?” Bucky asked wisely, the loyalty in his voice soothes Gale, as does the structure of his sentence, it suggested it wasn’t his fault. And Gale wanted to believe that and he just as strongly he knew it was wrong of him.

He had been in the wrong and he didn’t deserve Bucky’s sympathy for this or the damn radio. They’d been talking of repairs every spare minute of this day that hadn’t been taken up with trying to find Maureen. And while Bucky could remain as adamant as he wanted, that it wasn’t his fault that his radio didn’t work -it didn’t change the fact that his failure now meant Bucky was gonna try something awful instead, like climbing the fence with a pregnant woman on his shoulders. And it was all because Gale couldn’t fucking make a connection. Just as he couldn’t connect to his own body for Maureen and now she’d probably gone over the fence too, or got shot trying.

“So fuckin’ unless.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and mashed the tears away.

“She call ya that?” Egan barked, and Gale didn’t need to see his frown to know he was about to track down Kendeigh to punch her, not rescue her.

“No, don’t need a dame to tell me what’s what.”

He didn’t see it coming so he was reasonably startled when he found his hands dislodged from his eyes and his face suddenly collided into the weave of a musky sweater, Bucky’s hand gripping the nape of his neck like he were a child. That hand was so damn large Gale could imagine he was young again and his father was holding him. “Somethin’s gonna come to you,” this reassuring rumble was light years away from his father’s belittlements and he shuddered, “I’ll get you new wire or somethin’ but just- ain’t your fault, Buck, and that goddamn parakeet needs snow down her pants if she can’t see it too.”

No one pretended to sleep that night, even once the lights were out. Ida sat up in her bunk with her brother beside her, a telling lack of sympathy being expressed for Maureen’s self inflicted plight. Ida had spent her own time at the radio and while it hadn’t done much good, it had gone some way to reassure Gale she didn’t see anything amiss. It ought to work.

Small talk was kept carefully low in the bunks, and Bucky kept a firm position on Gale’s bunk, sitting upright with his legs slung over his friend’s boney knees, affectionately trapping him in a lying posture. Bucky had taken to entrapments here in camp, perhaps the barbed wire inspired him.

They had already given Benny his fair share of chiding for not going out with Maureen that the morning, although Brady’s report of her absence in the time he had fetched water plainly represented someone not wishing for accompaniment -or, as Brady so helpfully reminded of the obvious, her desire to obey Cleven’s long standing order on the matter.

It was probably close to 0100 when a great commotion sounded outside, followed by a crash bang of the combine’s main doors being thrown wide and the rhythmic tread of jackboots had everyone pouring out of their bunks and standing at the ready, -they weren’t sure for what, but it wasn’t something you wanted to be caught lying down for. Gale wrenched open the door, expectancy already perfectly in place on his face until he caught sight of Kendeigh, hauled like a child between the guards and one of their captains met his eye with unimpressed disdain.

“This we found in wrong sector.” he explained, gesticulating to Maureen with a gloved hand, “Sleeping under combine steps. I have told you, Major, I cannot guarantee safety of your females when they are alone, something happen to them, you blame me but I told you! Cannot guarantee.”

“Understood.” Cleven gave him his soberest nod, feeling ill and angry and watching warily for the next move, wondering when he could get his lost package back, yet not wanting to appear eager.

“Discipline, major, discipline!” The Captain insisted and Gale felt Bucky’s heat searing at his back as he pressed forward, taking the German’s eyes away from Gale’s, preventing something rash.

“Oh believe me, sir,” Bucky drawled as he pressed forward, the guards posture confidant and lax, “discipline will be met.” he took the brave step of gripping Kendeigh’s coat flap in his hand and tugging her forward, a movement that yanked her free of the gaurds’s grip.

“Met?” the officer was confused, anger and annoyance tinged his repetition.

Bucky shook Maureen meanly by her coat in emphasis of his statement, “Discipline!” he agreed, insistent.

“Well?” It appeared the officer intended to wait until it was meted out.

Bucky stalled and Gale caught Maureen’s panicked eyes even as her nose flared rebelliously with measured breaths, trying to get on top of it all. Gale felt himself pushed to the side abruptly, having to catch himself on the door as Ida Brady strode past him into the hall, the book she’d been perusing still clutched in her hand.

“Child.” she muttered loudly for the officer’s benefit before raising her book and striking Mauree square across the face, one cheek and then the other as the blow sent her staggering, sharp thwacks with the flat side of the volume.

Maureen took the reproof with good grace and a stunned whimper, Bucky’s still supportive clutch on her jacket keeping her from making a fully pathetic scene and melting to the floor.

“Go, in, get in bed.” Ida snapped her fingers, pointing to the door and when Maureen took a second too long to collect her spotted vision, Ida raised the book again and Maureen needed no more incentive, knowing if Ida did not deliver it the guards would.

She tumbled over the barracks threshold like a bedraggled orphan, hair snow drenched and cheeks throbbing, her jacket muddy and undone.

“Well done.” Johnny Brady greeted with montone venom and only Benny Demarco’s well placed foot tripped her and prevented her from clawing his face off in long suppressed spite.

She landed inelegantly on her face, elbows bent just enough to catch herself from a truly ugly splat, she was gathering herself for another spring when the troop of her officers sounded and the door closed and quiet fell over the place, lethal and accusing.

So the Germans had let her off easy then. Maureen drug herself up to her knees and suddenly wished she hadn’t, it felt too close to contrition.

She staggered upright, ignoring the indignity of having to push up on Brady’s knee to do so. Once on her own two feet she raked muddy fingers through her hair and smiled at her superiors, tired but dandy. They looked pissed and that was to be expected.

“The hell did you go?” The others seemed to acknowledge Gale had some right -or maybe it was responsibility- to address her first and it was leveled at her even more scathingly than she had braced for.

“For fresh air.” she chimed, leaning against a bunk brace, arms crossed easily.

“Sleepin’ out? Sneakin’ out?” Gale stormed on and Ida actually took pains to bypass him and climb into her own bunk, her merciful discipline administered she seemed to wash her hands of the business, “Flagrantly disobeying my expressed orders! Answer me! The hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get out,” she leveled back at him, her smirk grown sharp and practiced and debutant-worthy, “I wanted to be somewhere else besides in this stinking, miserable cabin with its miserable, stinking occupants. Nothing but a bunch of self righteous, maniacally focused dreamers who can’t have fun for shit.”

As soon as she said it, no regret came, only a feeling of utter validation. Indeed, what had changed since she had been gone? Ida was still sick and pregnant, Johnny was still fussy, Benny was still playing at cards, Bucky was still pushing Gale harder than any over the radio and her Cleven was cleaving to the damn thing like it were his god.

“I mean, tell me if I missed something essential!” She scoffed, “Some great development occur? Or was I needed for some great task you all missed me so desperately during? No? Didn’t think so. Because we don’t go anything in here except talk about getting out like it’s actually plausible and I’m sick as fuck of it and I-“ she pointed to herself, voice growing in volume as Gale’s own fury seemed to wane into something shocked and scared, “I have spent my day with men who have ingenuity and good humor and liquor, because they aren’t hopeless fucks like us. The Brit’s have a tunnel started, the Polish have one too along with a bathtub of potato peel vodka, and we have a pregnant colonel! Sto lat!”

It was terribly quiet for a moment, half the cabin's occupants intent on appearing discrete and the other half stunned into a sort of mortified offense.

“You gonna thrash her or am I?” Egan finally broke the tension, his head turning lazily to look at Gale, his mouth was grinning like he was eager and it made Maureen’s bruised cheeks flame. It seemed to be some private joke, Maureen could only tell by the way Cleven’s eyes widened in warning protest at his friend before biting his lip and sniffing harshly. Then the lights cut again and the place was plunged in darkness, it brought Maureen both relief at the obscurity and a strange feeling of terror at the pitch black surroundings. She still hated the dark, ever since those Gestapo cells.

“Take that filthy shit off and get in your bunk.” Gale’s voice so near and so sudden startled her, and it wasn’t rebellion that made her lag in response but he seemed to take it that way, the snap of his finger seeming dangerously close to her nose, and she felt his fingers pluck at her muddy coat, “Now, don’t test me, get in, now.”

She peeled it off and let it flop heavily to the floor before kicking off her boots with the same carelessness, and then taking a step up, digging her frozen toes into Benny’s mattress and hauling herself up to the next level, laying down with a shiver in the cold sheets. The quiet sounds of rustling and bedding filled the place, the others putting themselves away for the night too, but to her relief no one seemed to be murmuring about her. Then the bunk creaked again and the unmistakable feel of someone climbing in beside her made her gasp.

Gale, of course it was Gale, laid himself out atop her, like he planned to keep her there by his weight alone like Bucky had with Ida, and an odd feeling suddenly took possession of Maureen’s chest, one she hadn’t felt all day: she felt undeserving. His head was hard and awkward against her clavicle but she didn’t want to budge him, secretly and utterly grateful he was being kind, that he was not ignoring her. Maybe Ida was right and she was childish but if that were the case, what was to be done about it? She was as she was and she needed him, so tentatively after a few minutes, she withdrew her legs out from under his own and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close all along her like they were mating, she meant it as a hug and she felt him limp and heavy between her thighs but she did not withdraw.

Gale waited patiently until the snores began, wind whistling outside so loudly it would cover their whispers, and she shuddered to think of herself being petty enough to try to sleep in that icebox. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” he rasped at last, raising his head a little and trying to get a read on her in the semi dark. “Maureen, you can’t worry me like that, please.”

“I’m tired.” her voice was weak from the effort to hold back an ugly sob.

“You've been tired before.” he soothed, “What about today? What about last night? What’s all this? C’mon, you can tell me, I need ya to tell me.”

Maureen sighed raggedly, always a sucker for his cajoling voice, more so when she knew she deserved and expected the thrashing. “You don’t need me that way. You don’t need me at all.”

Gale dropped his head a little, his hand reaching up to pinch his nose, humiliation and impotence warring with need to assure her. “I'm sorry about that.” he settled for, “I’m too fucked right now, I admit it. It’s all just, it’s a lot, we’ve all got a lot goin’ on. You too, I know, I’m just not right up there, Maureen. Doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me during the day and you don’t need me at night.” she had tried to dissuade herself of this painful reality, truly! -but those were the facts as she saw them and it hurt her worse than him.

“I’m doing this for you!” he begged, his large hand cupping the side of her throat and she would love to think it a caress but he was only trying to make a point, one she contested vehemently in her heart. “I won’t be okay until you’re safe, baby.”

Maureen scoffed, thick and bitter, she had no child, she had no threat, she didn’t need to get out. “I don’t have any reason to get out!” She seethed back, “What’s in it for me? Besides you dead and me too, maybe I’ll get sent back to the Gestapo. That’ll be lark. I don’t need to get out, Major, I need-“

Gale was panting in her face, hot and hurried as her own ire rose with each word, “What do you need?” he goaded, and she could hear him lick his lips.

“I need you to pay attention to me.” she said it.

And to anyone else it would have sounded the most petty thing of all, but to Gale Cleven it was something he already knew deep down when he wasn’t so caught up in the imminent might-be’s of their situation, when he wasn’t needing to save Bucky from himself, or Ida from being put down or Johnny from whatever Greek hell that doctor had enlisted him in. He knew Maureen needed him, not his brains or what he could give, not really, she just wanted his flesh, and he had never bartered in that currency before her, having always assumed it was cheap if not with love. He was not sure he was loved but he knew it was not cheap, whatever it was they shared. And he knew she needed him. Just as he needed her, even though he could not manifest it as he wished.

He could kiss her, though. That he could do.

She did not expect the plush press of his lips when she saw him duck his head against the halo of window light. He kisses with intent and with reproof and the part of her that enjoys his anger begins to thrum to life as mercy and justice both battle in his kiss, his tongue all forgiveness and his teeth implacable rightness.

“Why?” she whines at him, feeling herself need and yet he lays between her legs useless as a girl, “why’re you when you can’t-“ she has insulted him enough today, she trails off with surprising tact.

“Don’t mean I don’t need you.” his voice has gone gruff like it does when he holds her head firmly and grinds his once hard cock down her throat, “Don’t mean your boy don’t want you.”

And that’s all she needed, really.

Along with the feeling of his fingertips walking down her bare stomach, his hand somehow sneaking its way through her layers undetected until now. It awakes a trail of fire down to her core, her core that is already ablaze by his kissing, his neglect, his language.

“My baby.” she moans in ascent, loudly and exultant and a little mournful.

“I gotchue, I got you.” he swears into her mouth and his hand wastes no time in slithering between her legs, elegant fingers cupping her and smearing her arousal around beneath his fingertips.

“Fuck them into me.” she begs, his hand swiping and rubbing at her heat until her hole clenches in desperation, wanting the burn of a stretch.

He is used to her instructions, they’d have accomplished nothing these last months without them, he is able to obey without ceding one bit of control in the kiss and the dichotomy of it, of him, makes her spiral as long fingers plunge, three at a time into her like he’s mad at her, and she cums from it alone with a hoarse cry of shock. He leans up and over her, hair aglow in the dim light and his hand beginning to slam again and again between her legs, forearm hard at work before he brings his wrist to her mouth.

“Bite.” he tells her, an offer and an order and she does, repaying him the vicious assault below her waist where she is tugged apart and jammed at with all too much finesse, his thumb swiping at the apex of her slit everytime he plunges knuckle deep. Gale knows by now the signs of her peak but he pushes beyond it, adds his pinky until all four digits wreak havoc and makes her go again. She uses his wrist out of necessity not to wake the whole place. The sounds of her squelching may have done it for her.

He pets her after, his palm warmed up by his work and it cups and soothes her as she jerks and jolts and settles, and his nose nuzzles her own sweetly, murmuring her name again and again just how she likes it.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” he begs between smooches and Maureen feels entirely too weak to deny him.

“Ok.”

“Promise?” his tone and his hand grow firm again.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” he sighs beside her and she thinks she could fall asleep now he’s wrung her out. He pets her a few moments longer, as if loathe to pull his hand free. He cups her one more time, collecting her wetness in the crook of his fingers before at last he does, carefully bringing his hand up and out of her waistband. He holds it in front of himself for a brief moment as if debating how to enact his thoughts, and she watches him curiously because he does not lick his digits clean like usual, perhaps she is too soiled tonight, even for his devotion.

Instead she watches him roll onto his back, hand still aloft and glittery with an obscene amount of sticky pleasure and his other hand trails to his own fly, popping the button deftly with his left hand and tugging down the fastening. Her breath catches in her throat, suspense and arousal at the familiar motion making her perk once more. Gale shimmies his clothing down his thighs until she can see him just barely, lying fat and peaceful against his thigh. He deserves a little peace, she thinks, now that she is not so cross with him.

She holds his gaze in startled suspense as he locks eyes with her, wanting her to stare when he moves his wet hand down and wraps it around himself, smearing her juices all over his soft member, clear and creamy swirls rubbed into the pink meat of him, down to his very balls.

“There,” he manages between her kisses as she assails him anew with desperate appreciation, “you’ve still got me. I’m still yours.”

She drags her hand down there to feel the sticky evidence of his promise, to rub and fondle him as he lays dormant in her palm. She has often snickered to him that he is too tidy to ever fully have sex, he has had qualms over even what they do with their hands, their mouths as well. He was pleased she could swallow only for the mess it prevented. She’s often told him he’ll find coupling a filthy business and he oughta brace himself. This tacky feeling under her palm is the closest they’ve ever gotten to the act, her fluids touching him there, drying on him. She appreciates the gesture, more than here heart can bear to ponder: she also knows he’ll regret it.

“I’ve got some amends to make.” she acknowledges after giving him one last kiss and checking that the coast is clear. Egan is doubtless still awake as usual and perhaps Brady, but it can’t be helped and she doesn’t give a damn. “Try to be quiet -don’t think too hard on it, it’s fine if this is all it is.” she preemptively cautions before he can realize what she intends.

She slinks down the length of him, careful not to jar the whole bunk, careful to keep a low profile to the blankets before dipping her head in the little nest of covers shoved around his thighs. Despite her assurances Gale makes a keening noise of confusion when her tongue darts out without preamble and licks up the seam of his balls.

“Maureen.” he sounds half strangled but his hand flies out, not to prevent her, but to pet her lustrous hair. She feels utterly content in that moment and continues her quest to tidy him up.

“You hate being sticky.” she reminds in a whisper before gently sucking on his soft tip, she can feel his belly heaving in relaxed sighs, the connection not fully alive and yet, potent all the same, he pets her hair more firmly and even pushes her head down further and she gets the hint, abandoning his soft cock head for the chubby vein beneath, licking stripes of herself off him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” she whispers to the inanimate little thing, remembering how meanly she squeezed it the night before. “I swear we’re still friends.”

Gale vaguely registers her apology to his bits and bobs but he is genuinely more distracted by two glinting shards across the room that have to be Bucky’s blazing eyes. Trained right on him. Holy hell, he feels himself shake and the closest thing to a twitch animates between his legs before he throws his hand over his eyes and pretends he is very alone. He pets her head more purposefully, long, feminine strands slipping through his fingers.

John Egan once put a bet on how long it would take these idiots to learn they were in love. It was once all a bit funny. And now, seeing in a dim haze what appears to be the ritual of making up, it’s not so funny any more. Today could have gone far worse, any attention to the women was bad attention and having Ida have to make a scene while hiding a belly like that was nearly criminal in Bucky’s mind.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t glad for Gale. No, he was so glad he was half jealous watching, imagining more than even seeing. He wondered if Maureen knew how much she loved him, he wondered how it compared to his own, and he ached like hell.

Next morning Gale woke up with a sore spot on his chest from the weight of her head lying there all night, and to the tinkering sounds of the metal water jugs being jostled. There was a laugh and a responding “shh” and another stifled laugh following. He rolled his head on the pillow and blearily cracked an eye open, taking in Brady and Maureen over their task. Or at least, Johnny was trying while fighting some whispered bit of comedy that Maureen continued despite Johnny’s wheezing protests and incompetent fumbling with his handles.

“You ain’t bein’ quiet, if ya think you are.” Benny’s grumble from the bunk below said what Gale was thinking, but he was too relieved to see Maureen awake, cheerful and integrated again to complain.

“I’m telling him about a Romanian girl in the other sector, met her yesterday.” Maureen stage whispered and Brady began to lose it again, muffling his whole face into his sleeve, milk pail abandoned on the floor so he could laugh. “There’s a fence between and she’s a fighter pilot but she’s seen him at his laps and she wants him.”

Benny stayed quiet a minute before his own laugh started and Gale could feel the vibrations of it from a whole bunk below. “She put in an order or somethin’?”

“Practically.” Maureen drawled, “She was so relieved to meet an American so arrangements can be made for my fellow. She has cows back home Johnny, she’d trade ten for you. Those big Eastern European cows, straight from a storybook, it’s worth consideration.”

“Grab your jug.” Johnny insisted instead in a small wheeze as he collected his own and strode out, looking behind to ensure she was following and beginning to laugh at eye contact. Maureen threw her head back and guffawed that ugly little cackle of hers as she went out.

“I think we missed part of the first act.” Benny observed about the joke from below, Gale didn’t know what talent it was but his co-pilot always seemed to sense when he was awake, no checking needed.

“Yup.” Gale puffed into his pillow, not giving a damn about the content of her material only that some material was back.

Someone else who was shit at playing asleep was John Egan. Gale slunk out of his bed quietly to not awake everyone else and went over to the sprawled out form of his friend, Ida tucked behind his back and the wall, genuinely asleep despite the nicotine she had coursing through her. Gale reached out and flicked at an overgrown curl dangling over his friend's face, the return momentum of it tickled his nose and he sneezed on compulsion.

“Sleep well?” Gale asked as Bucky stared up at him, betrayed and crinkly faced.

“Was.” he accused.

“Talk?” Buck proposed in a monosyllable and he watched Egan’s raw morning eyes shutter closed into something as readable as millponds.

“Yeah, sure.” There was a series of grunts and heaves of effort as Bucky righted himself and finally pushed out of the bunk, “Hall?” he asked while contemplating just how little he wanted to don boots right now.

“Hall’s fine.”

They went out together, it was quiet in the hall despite the awakening rustle in the various rooms off it. It stayed quiet once they’d both taken a wall to lean against because Gale Cleven wasn’t good at broaching topics despite his bravery to initiate their surroundings. Egan had a sense what this was about, but then, things usually weren’t about the thing they were about, they were about another thing reflected in the thing and that’s where he got lost. But watching Gale Cleven take in a breath five times only to exhale and chew his lip got a little tedious, even by his standards for how much he enjoyed watching his Buck at anything.

If this was about being observed last night, Egan sure as fuck wasn’t gonna take the blame for seeing shit in a packed dormitory. Or, combine, barracks, whatever. So, a sentence like -sorry I watched you get licked at like a bowl of milk last night- didn’t reflect his sentiments at all. And he’d never lied to Buck, not once, except maybe about not social engineering his way onto planes during rough missions. So instead he went with an easy going, “Must be nice to almost get everyone killed then get rewarded for it.”

Gale’s eyes sharpened instantly but the harsh retort Egan panted for didn’t come, instead something tired took over and Gale pinched his nose. “We’re all goin’ a little looney in here.”

“Are we?” Bucky hummed combatively, “How you crackin’ up these days?” it wasn't fair his Buck had all this weight on him and a fussy woman besides.

“I’m havin’ an affair with a fellow officer.” Gale recited in a devastated montone, and Egan hadn’t expected such transparency. Not in criminal language.

“Well,” he ceded, “there is that.”

“And occurrences like last night are gonna need to keep happenin.” Gale was informing him and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, his tone was that of an officer but his soft blue eyes flicked with a plea to be understood. “To keep her -tame. Some sorta sane. She’s like you, she wasn’t meant for this place.”

“Just last week you told me nobody was.” Egan pointed out just to be contrary but he couldn’t help his grin and Buck caught sight of it before he could suppress it, knowing the banter and its innate kinship was back.

“I need you to promise me somethin’.” Gale went on, a nervous hand rubbing at the back of his neck and Bucky perked at the sight of that tick.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise to wait a week before you try anythin’.” Gale said, “You said I’d come up with somethin’ and I will, but I need a week Bucky. Give me that, can’t let you leave here without any direction of where to head toward. Wait on that radio, don’t you go off gettin’ yourself shot and Ida, too.”

A week in this place felt like a year, a week with an ever swelling woman felt like an eternity of valuable, crucial time. Bucky ran his bare toes over the splintering wood and tried to focus on the way the wood shards pricked at his frozen toes. “Alright.” he agreed, couldn’t help himself when Buck was looking at him like that and telling him he didn’t want him to die. “Alright.” He repeated more forcefully just to see Gale’s face clear and some old expression of peaceful relief smooth out his worry lines, not as much as Maureen’s tongue could do, Bucky wagered, but it was a little relief of his own he could give. “But you make a poor incentive for obeying you.” he pointed out cheekily, shoving off his wall to advance on Gale and shove a finger in those still full cheeks, “You gonna reward me if I disobey an’climb over on day six?”

Gale rolled his eyes, an expression all too pretty with his cheek distorted by Egan’s rough fingers, his eyes wary and loving all at once, Bucky had missed that look, it was coy as hell and one of his favorites on his friend. “Don’t count on it.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota oc #mota imagine #john egan fanfiction #Gale Cleven fanfiction #bucky egan fanfiction #Buck Cleven fanfiction #gale cleven x oc #those who can #integrated au

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nattysstargirl · 1 year ago

Text

The Beast of my Dreams

Chapter 5

Word count:3349

TW 18+: fingering, cursing, oral (R receiving) edging, overstimulation, praise, begging (reader calls Nat sir briefly) semi-public sex, Natasha being an adorable butch, possessiveness(brief).

A/N: I want butch Natasha to ruin me 😘

Nat disappeared from the lecture hall before the front half of the room could make it out, and Y/N couldn't find her in the hallway either. She kicks herself for not getting her number. She says goodbye to Peter and heads to the exit. Fridays are half-days, so she's done with classes. Which would be the perfect time to hang out with a hot lesbian. After bracing for the cold, she pushes outside and jogs down the front steps. She technically has homework she should be doing, but her whole consciousness is absorbed with thinking about Natasha. And the way her jaw could cut glass, and her deep green eyes, and—

An arm slinks around her, and panic jumps to her throat as she thinks of the touchy frat boy from last night. Bile burns her chest. But a gentle kiss to her neck from a soft face with no stubble makes her melt. Natasha.

"Hey," she whispers huskily in Y/N's ear.

Y/N giggles like she's in middle school. "Hi."

"Sorry, too much?" Nat releases her and steps into her line of sight. "I guess hooking up once doesn't put us on PDA level."

"It's sooo okay." Y/N takes her hand.

She loves physical affection, and there's something possessive and sweet about it happening in front of people. Nat's shoulders relax, and she smiles. It's a cute smile, unrestrained with all of her teeth. It crinkles her eyes and tugs on her cheeks. Y/N's stomach flips again.

"So, did you want to do something today?" she asks.

"Name it," Nat says.

Y/N pulls her onto the sidewalk, and they head toward the parking lots. She doesn't know where she'll take her, but she's lived here for three years and knows all the cool places. It occurs to her that she's never seen Nat before the stats class and knows literally nothing about her.

"Are you a junior?" she asks. "I've never seen you around campus, but that's definitely not a freshman-level class."

"I, uh...transferred," Nat says. "I'm a junior."

"Transferred from where?"

Nat seems to think it over. "Tiny little community college in my hometown. You wouldn't have heard of it."

"So you're from a land far, far away?"

"Not too far," she says modestly.

"No wonder you're so cool."

Natasha looks at her. "You think I'm cool?"

Y/N balks. "Obviously? You scared away four drunk frat bros, you wear a leather jacket, you made me orgasm harder than I ever have—"

"Oh, did I?" Nat cuts her off. She's smirking hard.

Y/N considers punishing her for her cockiness, but holy shit, does she deserve to be cocky. "Yes," she says simply.

Nat thinks that over. "We barely got started."

Y/N swallows hard. They arrive at the parking lot before she has to answer.

"Which one's yours?" Nat asks.

"It's the blue hatchback." She points, suddenly self-conscious about her fifteen-year-old beater.

What if Nat comes from money and thinks she's lame?

"Cute," is all Nat says.

Y/N walks to the passenger door to unlock it manually. "The button is broken," she explains, opening the door and letting Natasha slide in. "You can just...shove all that aside." But Nat gently lifts the stack of textbooks and papers and props them on the floor behind the driver's seat. She's careful with her feet to not disturb the piles of garbage and belongings. "Sorry, it's kinda messy."

"All good," Nat says with a smile.

Y/N closes the door and hurries to climb in on the driver's side. She cranks Old Navy to life and turns on the heat. "It takes a minute to warm up," she explains.

"No rush here." Nat's head is leaned against the rest, gazing at Y/N. Y/N blushes.

"Do you prefer to be called (your name shortened) or Y/N?" Nat asks.

Y/N tries not to smile. Nat heard Pete call her (y/n/n), and she wondered about it enough to remember through two hours of stats lecture. And she cares enough to ask her about it.

"You can call me anything you want," Y/N says genuinely. That makes Nat smile. Then she turns to the floor at her feet and picks out a plastic grocery bag. She shakes it open and starts filling it with trash.

"You don't have to do that," Y/N says. "I'm going to get it...eventually."

"I'm happy to help." She looks at Y/N. "Really, with anything you need."

Y/N drops her gaze to her hands. "You're really nice to me."

Natasha sits up. "Should I not be?"

"No, I just mean... I don't know, we just met."

"Am I being too much?"

"No! No, I like it. It's just... I'm usually pretty fast to catch feelings. Not that it's happened anytime recently, but..." Y/N puffs out her cheeks. "The affection is one-sided, typically. At least for the most part."

"Are you saying you like me?" Nat asks.

"I really do, and I know that's weird to say, but I always say the weird thing. I feel really...drawn to you. Like I've known you for a long time. That's stupid and cliché, but there it is."

"I don't think it's stupid," Nat says seriously. "I come from...a community that operates like that. We skip a lot of social norms and follow our hearts."

Y/N smiles. "That's really cool. Where are you from again?"

Natasha holds her hands over the vents. "Feels like he's warm. Ready to go?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Y/N hurriedly slams it into drive and pulls out of her parking spot. "Where should we go?"

"Mmm. Bring me to your favorite place off-campus."

"That's easy," she says. She waits in the small line of cars heading out of the parking lot. "Half-day Fridays," she explains to Nat.

"Kids are going home for the weekend."

"I go here," Nat says with a chuckle.

"Right." Y/N blushes.

Natasha's fingers thread through hers, and she pulls Y/N's hand to her mouth to kiss it. Y/N's stomach is never going to sit still with Nat around. It feels like it's training to compete in Olympic-level gymnastics. Nat kisses the inside of her palm, then the pulse point at her wrist, acting pretty casual about being the sexiest and most romantic person alive. Nat drops their hands into her own lap, and Y/N rubs her thumb in circles on her thigh.

"I think I want to call you Y/N," Nat says thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" She nods. "Y/N it is." She peeks at her shyly, but Nat's glare is now pointed out of the window. Y/N follows her line of sight. "What's that?" Three men are hauling an enormous cage out of the back of a truck. It's a long rectangle box of grid metal, with a large solid piece of metal set inside at an angle.

"It's a trap," Nat says. "For the animals, I guess?" Natasha's forehead is crinkled in a hard frown.

"They shouldn't have built a university next to a protected national forest if they weren't ready to deal with animals."

"I'm sure they'll release them safely somewhere else," Y/N offers. They finally make it out of the parking lot and drive in silence to the destination Y/N has in mind.

—

The tension in the car after Nat saw the animal traps fades by the time Y/N pulls into the drive-in theater and parks backwards.

"What's this?" Nat asks, looking curiously at the large projector behind them in the review mirror.

Y/N giggles. "It's a drive-in. You've never been to one?" Nat shakes her head. "Well, they show a movie on that big screen, and you don't have to leave your car. I'll be right back. Wait here." Y/N hops from the car and jogs to the refreshment stand. There are only a few other vehicles for the matinee, so she's the only one in line. She orders a large popcorn, two sweet teas, and a bag of gummy worms. "Thanks!" she says, handing over a twenty to cover the snacks and two tickets.

It's way more affordable than going to an inside theater, which is one reason she loves it. She hurries back to the car. Nat got out and is leaning against the car, watching Y/N return. Her arms are crossed, with one foot propped behind her against the tire. "I told you to wait in the car," Y/N says. She shakes her head. "You just can't follow orders." She was joking, but Nat seems to take it seriously.

"I don't like when I can't see you," Nat says. That stops Ema. She looks at her. "I..." Nat changes the subject, unburdening Y/N of the snacks and one cup.

"So why'd we park backwards?"

Y/N crosses to the back of the Subaru and opens the hatchback with two fingers, balancing her tea on the bumper and leaning inside to drop the backseats forward. There's a stack of thick, folded blankets she keeps on the floor for this very purpose. She unfolds it so it spreads over the flat seats. "Tada!" She flourishes her arms toward the film-viewing hangout spot. "Get in." Nat climbs inside while Y/N fetches the wireless speakers from a charging port nearby. She climbs in too, closing the hatchback behind her, then unlatching the window and hinging it open. She leaves her socks and shoes next to where Nat had dropped hers.

"Now watch this," she says.

Natasha is relaxed against a stack of pillows she found and distributed, one arm tucked behind her head. She sips her tea through the straw. Y/N rips the curtains loose from their holders and slides them over the windows, then pulls them on their trackers to close off light from the windshield, leaving her leaning over Nat. She looks down at her, hands still on the curtains.

"Cozy, right?"

Nat snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her down on top of her. She kisses her mouth gently before pulling away and saying, "Yeah. You're pretty good at making things comfortable. And you're handy, by the looks of that tracker install."

Y/N giggles and rolls off, checking her watch. "Movie starts in seventeen minutes."

"Sounds like plenty of time," Nat says, finding a cupholder for her tea.

"For what?" Y/N asks, excited to play along with any idea Nat might have. "Are you... What's that word? Where people like being caught?"

Y/N's eyes widen. "An exhibitionist?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, I don't think so?" Then she adds quickly, "Are you?"

Because Y/N could be convinced...

Nat smiles. "No. I'm pretty territorial, if I'm being honest."

She leans to close the back window, tugging the curtains together in front of it. Y/N's been with territorial people before, and she didn't love the experience, but the way Nat's acted so far hasn't thrown up any red flags for her. It's all been kind of endearing. Nat moves toward her, and Y/N gulps. She stops on her knees in front of Y/N and shrugs out of her jacket. She lays it carefully to the side, then presses her body between Y/N's legs.

"You're so nice to look at," Nat whispers before kissing her.

Y/N's body reacts immediately, her hands trembling, her hips rising to meet Nat's. It's embarrassing how quickly Natasha can turn her into a pathetic, shivering pile of horniness. Nat moves her lips from Y/N's mouth to her neck, painting slow strokes with her tongue along her pulse before sinking her teeth in. Y/N groans. She wants to tell Nat she can bite her as hard as she wants, but she thinks Nat knows that.

"I like the way you sound," Nat says. "Your voice, and your moans, and the way your breath hitches when I—" She licks her throat again. And Y/N's breath hitches. She feels Nat smile against her skin. Nat kisses her on the mouth, like she's telling her goodbye, before she moves down to Y/N's belly. She pushes her shirt up and runs her nose from her clavicle to her navel, inhaling softly. "I like the way you smell," Nat says. "Can I see how you taste?"

Y/N looks at her, and Nat's watching her face. Y/N just nods enthusiastically. "I need you to say it," Nat says patiently.

"Yes," Y/N says. She nods again.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, you can."

Nat lifts to her elbows, moving away from Y/N's waistband. "Yes, I can what?"

Y/N whimpers. "Please lick me, Nat. I want to feel your mouth on me."

"Lick you where?" Nat whispers.

"Everywhere." Y/N sounds pathetic, but she doesn't mind.

Natasha seems to like it, because she smiles, then unbuttons Y/N's jeans, slowly inching the zipper down before tugging them from her hips. "Good girl," she says.

y/n's breath falters. She spreads her legs, eager to remove any possible barrier to Nat fucking her with her mouth. If she made her see stars—constellations—with just her fingers... But Nat's not in any kind of rush. She rubs her nose from y/n's knee, down the inside of her thigh, then skips over her center to trace back up to her other knee. Then she trails back down with little kisses, y/n holding her breath and arching as she gets closer, then skipping over it and working her way up to the other knee. y/n whimpers quietly, which makes Nat smile and bite her thigh.

"God, you're so hot," y/n mutters, dropping her head back because she suddenly can't support its weight.

"Thank you," Nat says, kissing her way back to the edge of y/n's underwear. Then she licks her, broad and hard, along the panty line of y/n's left thigh. It feels insane. y/n thinks she's going to jump out of her skin and ascend to another plane. Nat hasn't been near her clit, and y/n feels like she could cum on command easily. She thinks of Nat telling her to and shudders.

"Mmmm," is all y/n can say, then her eyes fly open.

Nat is biting her, gently, over her underwear. y/n looks down. Nat drags her bottom teeth from y/n's opening to her clit. y/n knows her mouth is dropped open. Nat does it again. It's rough, but not painful, and y/n feels her pussy responding. It's throbbing, and it's wet. Her panties are already soaked through. Without warning, the teasing is over. Nat pulls the panties off of her and tosses them away, exposing everything. Y/N doesn't feel shy. She drops her knees as wide as they'll go. And Nat's back, swiping her tongue roughly into y/n's folds. It's so abrupt, y/n releases an excited yelp, her hands threading in Nat's short hair to ground her to reality. Her head swims as Nat relentlessly swipes her clit with a hard tongue.

Y/n bucks her hips, grinding against Nat's face. y/n's had sex on E before. And shrooms. Where the world melts away and you meld with another body, and your animalistic urges matter more to you than anyone's opinion, including your roommate who's definitely hearing you scream, and all that matters is the person you're fucking. This is better than that. y/n leaves her body and enters another being that she shares with Nat. It barely registers that she's definitely shaking the car with her thrusts, and that her cries are too loud, and the woman working the snack stand can probably hear her. All that matters is Nat's mouth on her. Nat looks up, sucking y/n's clit between her teeth and grinning like a devil.

"Nat," Y/N whines, gripping the blanket with one hand, the other fisting Nat's hair.

Nat bites her again, with no protection of fabric. It hurts a little, and it's perfect. She knows what she's doing. y/n's body rolls with pleasure.

"Don't cum yet," Nat says.

Y/N shudders. "Yes, sir."

Nat's tongue swipes big strokes, then delves inside of her pussy. It's wide and strong and curls up to pet y/n's G-spot. She didn't know someone could reach that with their tongue. She moans like a porn star, and she's not even trying. She clenches her eyes and focuses on not finishing. Not until Nat tells her to. But God, she's so close. y/n opens her eyes and focuses on the ceiling of her Subaru. Then she bites her lip and slips a hand under her shirt. She pinches her own nipple, hard, hoping that will slow down, but it makes it worse. Pleasure shoots from her tit to her pussy, and it throbs harder.

"God!" she yells. "That feels so good, Nat."

Nat's eyes are on y/n's hand in her shirt. She pulls her tongue out and mutters against y/n's mound, "Keep doing that." y/n does, kneading her tits roughly with both hands now. Nat's eyes go so dark they look fully black. Y/N likes that. She pulls her shirt and sports bra over her head and lays back, fully naked. Nat's mouth moves faster, roughly making out with y/n's pussy.

y/n grabs her tits again, because Nat likes it, and God—she likes it, too. She's so close. She whimpers loudly. "You want to cum, don't you?" Nat asks. Her deep, husky voice muffled by y/n's cunt is even hotter.

"Yes."

"Ask nice."

"Can I cum?" y/n asks between gasps.

"No." Nat smirks and pushes y/n's knees up toward her face. She tongues her from her clit down—past her pussy—to her asshole.

"Oh, my GOD..." y/n's never had her ass eaten. She always thought she wouldn't like it. But Nats's ravaging tongue and lips and teeth put her firmly in the Pro Ass Eating camp. Holy shit. "Please can I cum?" y/n's almost sobbing. "Please, please, please, I'll do anything if you let me come, Nat."

Her mouth temporarily loses contact with y/n. "Good girl," she says. "You learned how to beg so quickly. You can cum, after you count to thirty."

Y/n doesn't ask a single question. "One! Two, three."

"Slower," Nat's voice is muffled again.

y/n grips the edge of the folded seat and bucks her hips. "Four... Five... Six..." She clenches her eyes shut. She's not going to make it. "Seven... Eight..."

Nat pushes three fingers into her pussy and sucks on her clit, hard.

"Oh, my GOD, NATASHA!"

"Count."

"Nine," y/n is actively fighting back tears from overstimulation and pleasure.

"Ten, eleven..." Nat pushes her pinky into y/n's ass.

"Twelve—NAT!" y/n's hips buck hard, crushing against Nat's face, both hands gripping her hair.

An orgasm rips through her, and she loses track of herself. When she comes to, she's flipped them both over, Nat now on her back against the car floor, and y/n fucking Nat's face. She rubs herself in small circles as she comes down from it. Nat's tongue is inside of her, twirling slowly. y/n's legs twitch, and she falls to her side, panting. She's worried she hurt Nat in the rearrangement, but Nat's still grinning like the Cheshire cat as she flips to her hands and knees and crawls to y/n.

Y/N can't move or speak, dazed and silent.

Nat pulls a blanket over her, then lies beside her and spoons her back. She's got a protective arm over y/n as she whispers in her ear. "You're a very good girl. You did so well for your first try." She nibbles at y/n's ear before placing a lingering kiss on her neck. "Next time, let's see if we can get to thirteen."

#g!p natasha #lesbian #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #were hyena!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #Natasha romanoff x reader fluff

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kinardsevan · 21 days ago

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several sentence monday

so i'm late. kill me. have some more of what i cranked out of aneurysm fic (it's gonna be alright piece by piece) tonight (one day i'll get this chapter finished):

“F-fucking h-hurts,” he stammers, pressing his back hard into the hospital bed.

“More atenolol,” Dr. Tomlin orders. “And a dose of Ativan. And when was his last done of hydromorphone?”

The nurses bustle around Dr. Tomlin, talking over one another, and then a moment later, several syringes are passed off to him. He twists one into Evan’s line and then squeezes his hand lightly as he starts injecting it.

“Atenolol first,” he says, stroking the back of Evan’s hand with his thumb. Evan looks over at him, his expression entirely miserable as several tears roll down his cheeks. “I know. We’re going to get this under control, okay?”

Tommy watches both of them, stroking Evan’s head with his free hand as his heart rate comes down. Dr. Tomlin swaps the syringes, grabbing Evan’s hand again as he injects it.

“Ativan now,” he continues. “Should help you calm down and be able to actually rest.” When the dose is in, he swaps the syringe out the final time, but Evan’s body is already staring to settle more against the bed. “Hydromorphone.” He glances over at Olivia, his primary nurse. “I want him watched like a hawk. Check-ins every five minutes, regular ECG reads.” He glances over at Tommy, shaking his head. “This is going to push us back by a day, but I need him rested and healing.”

#my fic #aneurysm fic #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #firepilot #firebeast #several sentence sunday #writer games #tumblr games #author games #teaser #tidbit #it's gonna be alright (piece by piece)

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nowimjustastranger · 2 months ago

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Good news guys! Some incredible fanart that @flame-cat drew for my Ao3 fic You Look Like Yourself (But You're Somebody Else) inspired me to crank out the rest of chapter 5, so I'll be posting it later on today (probably sometime past noon) after I wake up and take another gander at it for some last-minute editing.

You can find the fanart I mentioned here!

#gravity falls #the abyss stares back au #stan pines #ford pines #stan and ford #stan twins #writing

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yamst3rdamctrl · 5 months ago

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When Sexual Desires Clash Y/N Story

Chapter 5

Y/N woke up to the smell of food cooking. Before she could even move, she felt the soreness between her legs and smiled at the thought of what happened last night. Y/N walked down to the kitchen and saw everyone. "Good morning, yal!" Y/N said happily, and everyone said it back.

Michael kept his eyes on Y/N as her hips swayed in her sundress. His dick started to get hard after the thoughts of what happened last night flood his brain. Y/N heads to the balcony, enjoying the breeze and the view of the estate while eating her breakfast. All of a sudden, Michael comes out to join her on the balcony while eating his breakfast as well. Today is the last day at the estate, Michael feels the urge to talk to Y/N before they leave.

"Beautiful morning, love. How are you this morning?" Michael asked. Y/N looked at Michael with lust and said, "I'm good, love, wby?" Michael bit his lips and said, "I'm good would've been great if your pussy was on my face but soon it will be." Y/N damn near spit out her drink which made Michael chuckle. Michael broke the chuckle and said, "Before we leave here, I want to make this clear. I want us to be companions and friends with benefits. I want us to be aware that anytime, any place, and so forth and so on we are fucking regards. If you agree, take my phone, put your number in mine, and I'll put mine in yours." Y/N did not hesitate unlocking her phone and exchanging it with Michael. She knew that she needed that experience again, and she's not backing down. The rest of the morning going into the afternoon, everyone had packed their bags and parted ways.

Y/N made it home to her house and unpacked, and relaxed the entire day, knowing she needed to help choreograph and star in the Just Dance 2023 series. Y/N was excited because this was one of her dreams she wanted to do since a child. Going into the evening, Y/N cooked herself a meal, cleaned up, and watched a movie. It was just around 10 p.m., and she started to feel hot and horny. Y/N didn't want a vibrator. She wanted HIM. The one who made her cum twice, the one who made her feel so good she couldn't control herself. In the midst of her thoughts, she began to get an incoming FaceTime from nobody else, but her sexual desire.

Michael smiled when she answered eyes filled with lust. "Wyd baby girl?" He spoke, sounding very lustful. "In bed watching TV, why what's up?" Michael was walking out of his place on FaceTime and hopped in his car. Michael cranked his car, looked at the camera, bit his lip, and said, "I'm on my way to come take your soul outta your body. Send the addy, and when I get there, you better have the door unlocked, and you're naked in bed. See you in a minute." Michael instantly hung up the phone without saying anything else or even giving Y/N the option to say yes or no. Y/N instantly sent the address to Michael and stayed in her clothes. She thought to herself that if he wants me, he could rip my clothes off me. Y/N laid in bed watching TV for the next 15 - 25 minutes, and then she went to the bathroom to freshen up. Once she came out of the bathroom, there stood a horny Michael in orange basketball shorts and no shirt. He then looked at her in her eyes and said, "I thought I told you to be naked when I get here. I guess I'm just going to have to punish you for not listening. I hope you are ready."

Chileeeee I can't wait to give this to yal! Srri for the late update!

#michael b #michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader #smut #killmongerthispussy #killmonger fanfiction #spotify

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gvfgal · 3 months ago

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15: How to Run From the Mess You Made

18+ Series. Minors DNI

Important Note for Readers

Before you dive into this chapter, I’d like to take a moment to address something important. While dark themes have been a recurring element in this story, this particular chapter may be more triggering than others. Please review the content warnings carefully. If you find any of the themes too intense, feel free to skip this chapter and rejoin the story in the next one. You won’t miss any crucial plot points—this chapter simply provides additional backstory, but previous chapters contain enough context to follow along.

I’ve intentionally kept this chapter shorter and more vague to avoid anything overly graphic. If you’d like to refresh yourself on certain details, I’ll link the relevant chapters that can help fill in any gaps.

Thank you all for your continued support as we near the story’s end!

Content Warnings *Please Read Carefully*: graphic violence, parental negligence, depiction of poor childhood, domestic v!olence, alcoholism, drug use, murder.

Word Count: 3.2k

“I’m not doing this shit anymore, Riley,” your mother snapped, slamming the trunk of the car with a force that rattled the frame. Her words cut through the thick summer air as she shoved the last of your belongings inside. You were only two, strapped into a second-hand car seat, wide-eyed and unaware of the storm brewing around you. That day, your mom was walking away from the life she’d built with Riley, but you didn’t know it at the time—it was just the beginning of a chain of events that would pull you back to this very spot some twenty years later.

“Kim, would you just stop for a minute? Let’s talk this out!” Riley pleaded, stepping forward and grabbing for one of the bags she’d left on the porch. His voice cracked, filled with the desperation of a man who knew he was losing everything.

“No!” she shot back, snatching the bag from his grip. Her eyes were ablaze with years of frustration and betrayal. “I told you I wasn’t getting tangled up in this Barbarian shit anymore, and what did you do? You dragged me—and your daughter—right into the middle of it.”

Riley was silent, the weight of her words sinking in. He knew she was right. He’d promised to keep his family out of the club’s business, but time and time again, the club had bled into his home, poisoning everything.

She shook her head, a finality settling into her voice. “I’m done.”

Kim stormed toward the car, her heels digging into the gravel with each determined step. Behind her, Riley stood frozen on the porch, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched the life he’d built unravel before him. The silence between them was heavy, his lack of words an unspoken admission of defeat. His eyes flickered to you in the backseat—tiny, innocent, and completely unaware of the world crashing down around you. A deep, aching sense of failure settled within him.

As Kim yanked the driver’s door open and cranked the engine to life, Riley stumbled forward, desperation rising in his chest. “Wait, can I at least say goodbye to my daughter?” he called out, his voice thick with frustration and regret. He quickened his pace, but before he could reach the car, Kim had already shifted into reverse, pulling out of the driveway.

The window rolled down as the car eased into the street, and Kim leaned out, her expression hardened. “Have a nice life, Riley,” she spat, her voice dripping with resentment. “You and your dumbass Barbarians.”

With that, the tires squealed, and she sped off down the road. Riley stood in stunned silence, watching helplessly as his daughter—his entire world—was driven away from him. The last image burned into his mind was your round, innocent face peering through the back window, your eyes wide and unaware. That moment would haunt him for years, a ghost of what could have been.

At the end of the street, your mother brought the car to a stop. She turned to look at you, her face softening for a brief moment as she grinned wearily, reaching over to pinch the pudgy skin of your thighs. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, pumpkin,” she said with forced optimism. “But we can do it, right?”

You responded with a wide, toothy smile, your legs kicking in agreement. To any outside observer, it might’ve looked like your mother was doing the right thing—choosing a better life for her and her child, breaking free from a dangerous cycle. And in part, that was true. She believed she was saving you from the chaos of the Barbarians, from the violence and the uncertainty that came with that life.

But the truth was murkier than that. In the years that followed, the road Kim took you down proved just as treacherous, if not more so. Texarkana held its own set of dangers, its own disappointments. There were nights when you lay awake wondering what life would’ve been like if your mom had chosen to leave you in Genoa, if you’d taken your chances with Riley and the Barbarians. Maybe, just maybe, you would’ve been better off.

That thought lingered in your mind—how different everything might have been. How much heartache you could’ve avoided.

For the first several months after arriving in Texarkana, you and your mother stayed with your grandparents. You wish you could say it was an improvement from your situation in Nevada, a fresh start. But instead, it was a lateral move—a different trailer park, the same struggle. You shared the small bedroom that had been your mother’s as a child, and while you weren’t happy, you managed to survive.

It wasn’t long before your mom found the first in a long line of boyfriends she’d collect while living there. After only a few months of dating, she moved you in with him. The relationship unraveled within the year, leading to a toxic breakup that sent you both back to your grandparents’ house.

This cycle became the rhythm of your life—being uprooted from one boyfriend’s house to the next, each time at the mercy of your mother’s reckless pursuit of love.

Riley had tried to reach out to you when you were younger, but Kim always found a way to keep him at arm’s length. You remember the hushed conversations she’d have on the phone, too young to grasp the gravity of it all.

Then, on your fifth birthday, while living with step-daddy number two, your mom came into the room, phone in hand.

“Someone wants to talk to you,” she said, her tone forced but trying to sound cheerful.

You took the phone from her, “Hello?”

“Hey, babygirl,” Riley’s voice greeted you, raspy yet warm, an unfamiliar sound that somehow felt like home.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, it’s me, pumpkin. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

He told you he’d sent a card to your grandparents’ house, and you said you couldn’t wait to get it. He told you how much he loved and missed you, and you echoed his words.

“Can I come back to Nevada to live with you?” you asked, your small voice filled with hope. Step-daddy number two had a habit of getting drunk and wrecking the house, only to blame you and your mom for the mess the next morning.

“Oh, baby,” Riley’s voice softened with regret, “I wish you could, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I’m sure your mom is doing a great job taking care of you.”

At five years old, you didn’t have the words to tell him the truth about your situation. To you, he was still a stranger.

“Yeah, she is,” you lied.

That was the last time you spoke to Riley for over fifteen years. The chaos of both your lives swallowed up any chance of a relationship.

None of the men your mom dated were any good. They were drunks, abusers, cheaters—or some toxic mix of all three. And your mother always let them drag her down, taking you with her.

House after house, relationship after disastrous relationship, you had a front-row seat to the worst of it. That toxicity became your normal, and like the beautiful fool you were, you stumbled right into that cycle.

You met Dominic at seventeen, during your senior year of high school. He was eighteen, recently graduated and the guy everyone went to for their weed, yourself included. With his devil-may-care attitude and smoldering looks that bordered on too perfect, he was the center of attention—the one all the girls pined for, desperate for a sliver of the attention he seemed to withhold from everyone.

So, it caught you off guard when he showed interest in you. You’d always felt like you faded into the background, content to blend in with your peers and keep to yourself. The first few times you bought from him, he barely acknowledged your existence. But gradually, his interest in you grew. Perhaps he sensed the vulnerability within you, a quality that made you the perfect target for his twisted game.

You didn’t realize it then, but what he did to you was called love bombing. Showering you with gifts, drowning you in affection you’d never known, he made you feel seen—important. And you clung to it, desperate for the validation you’d been starved of.

Following in your mother’s footsteps, you moved into Dominic’s apartment just two months after making your relationship official. You were eager to escape the hellish environment you lived in, under the roof of yet another violent stepfather whose temper destroyed everything in its wake.

At first, it was bliss. You were so consumed by the intensity of your relationship that your grades barely made the cut for graduation. But by some miracle, you did graduate.

You were living a life you’d only dreamed of, never wanting or needing for anything. Dominic’s trade as the local drug dealer ensured you had everything at your fingertips, enough to blind you to the glaring red flags that came with being with him.

The abuse began subtly—a cutting remark here, a too-rough grip there. But as Dominic sank deeper into the dangerous lifestyle that surrounded him, things took a dark, irreversible turn. By then, you were already in too deep.

Soon enough, you learned to mask bruises with makeup, to spin convincing lies, and found ways to numb the pain, all while living in a constant state of fear. It all happened so rapidly, you could hardly keep up with it yourself. And this went on for years.

It began to grow so bad, that in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out the only person you felt could be of any assistance.

Tony; your mother’s fifth boyfriend, the only one you actually halfway liked. He was a drinker, but usually kept to himself for the most part.

“This should do the trick for you,” he spoke over the cigarette hanging from his mouth as he held up the handgun for you to inspect. You were hesitant to take it, you’d never held a gun before. “I’ll even throw in some bullets for free, family discount.”

Your hands shook as you took the weapon from him, turning it over and adjusting to the weight of it. You looked up at him desperately, “can you teach me how to use it?”

You were crouched in the closet, eyes clamped shut, waiting for the ringing in your ears to subside after the deafening gunshot. When it finally did, an unsettling silence followed. The violent chaos had ceased, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, too terrified to face the aftermath.

Red. That day was painted in red. When you finally opened your eyes and saw Dominic sprawled on the floor, lifeless in a pool of crimson, panic consumed you.

Everything after that was a blur. There was a gaping hole in your memory—one moment you were staring at Dominic’s motionless body, and the next, you were in your car, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching your phone as you prayed your mom would answer. When she did, the words tumbled out in a desperate, broken confession.

“I-I took a few things… tried to make it look like a robbery. Oh god, I didn’t even check if he’s really dead. I think he is, but—”

“Riley’s sick,” your mom interrupted, her voice calm but urgent.

“What?” you sniffled, momentarily thrown off balance.

“Your dad. He was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer recently. Go to Genoa, lay low. If anyone asks, you’ve been there for the past few days taking care of him.”

Doubt flooded your mind. It felt impossible—someone would surely know you’d been there. But then again, witness statements are always unreliable. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t be able to pin down the exact timing. And no one had seen you in days; that much was on your side.

“Has anybody seen you?” your mother asked sharply.

“No,” you answered, your voice steadier now. “I got out before anyone could come out. I didn’t even hear police sirens.”

“Where’s the gun?”

You glanced at your backpack on the passenger seat. “I’ve got it.”

“Listen,” your mom sighed, “everyone knows Dominic was mixed up in some dark shit. They’ll probably chalk it up to that. It could be a done deal.”

She had a point. It was worth a try—better that than facing the consequences. You exchanged hasty goodbyes, then drove until your gas tank was nearly empty. You stopped at a rundown gas station in the middle of nowhere, not a soul in sight. After filling up, you continued toward Nevada, avoiding hotels, instead parking in isolated spots where no one would think to look or remember you.

You resisted the urge to check on what was happening back home, fearing it would only intensify your anxiety and hasten the collapse of the fragile world you’d built around yourself.

The journey dragged on, each detour adding to the distance and dread. After nearly three days on the road, your car finally sputtered its last breath in Carson City. With the few remaining dollars in your pocket, you flagged down a cab and directed it to Riley’s house—or at least, the place you hoped still counted as home.

As the cab rolled to a stop in front of the weathered trailer, your heart sank. There, struggling to water a patch of vibrant flowers, stood a frail, aging man. The reality of his condition hit you like a punch to the gut. Riley, once the towering figure of a bike club legend, a Barbarian in every sense, was now a mere shadow of the man you remembered.

The cab driver helped you out, handing over the few duffle bags you’d gathered along the way. But you kept your backpack, the one harboring your secret, clutched close to your chest.

After paying the fare, you summoned every ounce of courage left within you and approached Riley.

“Hey, kid,” Riley rasped, his voice a weak echo of its former strength.

You sighed, the weight of the world in your voice. “Hey, Dad.”

You sat at Riley’s kitchen table, a sweating bottle of beer in front of each of you. After unpacking your few belongings, Riley had invited you for a drink, casually noting, “Looks like you could use one.” Despite everything, you couldn’t help but admire his ability to maintain a sense of lightheartedness amidst the chaos.

“So,” he began, eyeing you carefully, “are you gonna tell me the real reason you showed up in Genoa?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came to take care of you.”

Riley chuckled, the sound warm but knowing. “I think you’re forgetting that you’re still my blood, no matter how long it’s been. I can tell when something’s up.”

The urge to tell him everything clawed at you. You were seeking refuge in his home—it seemed only right to let him in on the truth. Besides, Riley was a Barbarian; he’d probably seen far worse, maybe even done far worse.

But the words caught in your throat. The mere thought of confessing made you feel sick, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what would come next, unsure of what your fate would be when all was said and done.

Without warning, you broke down, tears spilling over as you sobbed uncontrollably into your hands, your shoulders shaking violently under the weight of your grief.

“I’m sorry,” Riley said softly, standing up and wrapping an arm around you. His embrace was warm and solid, a comfort you hadn’t known you needed, a hug you never expected to receive. “I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

You continued to cry as Riley gently rubbed your back. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Whatever it is, you’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

And for a long time, that promise was kept, and you clung to it as if it were the only lifeline tethering you to sanity. For a while, that was enough. Even after Riley took his last breath, the secret you carried was kept hidden, sealed away like a ticking time bomb. Everyone around you played their part, never asking questions, never digging too deep, ensuring the truth remained buried. And you, just as diligently, worked to secure a future that seemed as elusive as a ghost, constantly shifting in the shadows. You built walls around yourself, fortresses of lies and silence, desperate to outrun the past that stalked you like a predator.

It wasn’t easy. There were countless nights where the weight of it all crushed you, and the urge to run—to take your chances, to disappear into oblivion—felt almost overwhelming. You’d catch yourself staring at your reflection, wondering if the person in the mirror even deserved freedom, if the life you were desperately trying to build could ever outrun the ruin waiting in the dark corners of your mind. Every phone call, every knock at the door sent your heart racing, thinking, this is it, knowing one slip could destroy everything.

Yet somehow, you made it. For two years, you flew just under the radar, your breath always held, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When your mother called to tell you Dominic’s case had been closed, filed away as just another casualty of the drug wars, you felt a flicker of relief. But it was fleeting. The kind of darkness you lived with never truly goes away. It lingers, like smoke from a fire long extinguished, seeping into everything, impossible to scrub clean. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was the trauma—something primal, gnawing at the edges of your sanity, draining your strength like a parasite feeding off your fear.

Deep down, you always knew. No matter how hard you tried to outrun it, how far you pushed yourself toward a new life, the demons of your past were never far behind. Each day, the air felt heavier, as if the shadows were slowly closing in, tightening their grip. The weight of what you’d buried lingered, creeping back with every passing moment. A relentless voice gnawed at the edges of your mind, whispering that this wasn’t over—that it could never truly be over.

Even now, with Jake by your side and the baby on the way, a life you once thought impossible finally within reach, you couldn’t shake the feeling. The suspicion hung over you, an ever-present reminder that your past still had its claws in you, waiting for the right moment to tear everything apart. You weren’t in the clear—not yet. And admittedly, you wondered if you ever would be.

That unfinished chapter still loomed, a dark presence lurking in the recesses of your life, waiting for the right moment to resurface. And when it did, you knew you’d have to face it, to confront every shattered memory and haunting truth. You just weren’t sure if you’d make it out on the other side this time.

Chapter References: Ch. 6 Ch. 8 Ch. 9

Taglist: @edgingthedarkness @wetkleenex-gvf @earthgrlsreasy @hollyco @dannys-dream @slut4lando @josh-iamyour-mama @gretasfallingsky @takenbythemadness @scoreofinfantryvines

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 15 | SR

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - As the summer begins, Spencer unexpectedly hits it off with a single mom he meets at the pool. The two of you separately try to navigate dating new people.

A/N - we’re just gonna let Spencer have a pseudo happy relationship for like a hot minute and let him realise he misses reader. This will not last forever, I promise.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

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

Warnings - moody teenager, Spencer and reader both trying to move on, Spencer trying to flirt, mentions of past abusive relationship, divorce, drunk driving and prison time (none of which pertain to Spencer or reader), mentions of age gap between consenting adults, out of control kids, overwhelmed Luke and Garcia, dog vomit, use of the word “bitch” quite a lot, making out.

WC - 5.9k

Chapter 15 - Happier

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you,

But ain't nobody love you like I do.

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby,

If you're movin' on with someone new.

The BAU returned home from their case four days later and Luke called Spencer in regards to helping train his wayward dog.

In those four days Spencer threw himself into summer activities with his daughters to stem his need for alcohol.

On Monday the temperature skyrocketed suddenly, over ninety degrees which was unusual for Virginia. Even with the AC cranked up the house was like a sauna. So somewhat reluctantly he’d taken them to the local pool.

And he got a whole lot more than he bargained for.

Unsurprisingly the pool had been packed and he only managed to secure one deck chair but Lily and Daisy didn’t intend to sit with him anyway.

He’d already slathered them in sunblock before they left the house but insisted on putting more on them when they arrived.

Lily didn’t mind so much but Daisy fussed, uttering things like “god dad you’re so embarrassing” while he simply tried to stop her from burning in the sun.

As soon as he was finished with them, they ran off towards the pool, leaving him alone on his sole deck chair.

He rubbed some more sunblock on his face, arms and shins, the only skin exposed to the elements. He left his t-shirt on, not particularly enjoying the idea of being half naked around a packed pool full of strangers.

He brought a bag full of books, given his reading speed he’d need them to stay entertained while his kids played in the pool.

He settled back in the chair, laying his head back and swinging his legs up, plucking out the first book.

It was noisy and busy, patrons packed in like sardines in a tin. It wasn’t exactly the relaxing summer vacation he’d had planned.

The sun was hot and heavy in the sky and he already felt the sweat gathering at his temples.

Kids ran rampant screaming and yelling at one another while fathers bellowed to their children to behave. With the exception of the beach, this was probably the last place he ever wanted to be.

He opened the book to the first page while glancing out at the pool. Lily and Daisy were together in the shallow end, Daisy holding her little sister's hand.

It made his heart swell. The girls had their problems from time to time but on the whole they got on really well. Daisy was always protective of her younger sibling, even if Lily annoyed her sometimes.

He looked back at his book and started to read, glancing up at the girls every few minutes to ensure they were still ok.

About twenty minutes passed before he felt like he was being watched.

He frowned to himself, those old FBI instincts never leaving him. He closed his book and turned to his left. Low and behold there was someone on the chair beside him watching him intently.

“Sorry,” she blushed a little as Spencer regarded her. “I was amazed how deep in concentration you were given everything going on.”

“Right,” he smiled, nodding his head. “Guess I’m good at switching off outside stimuli.”

She smiled at him, a really pretty smile in Spencer’s opinion. She had dark, almost black hair which was tied up off of her face and dazzling blue eyes.

“Lucky you, I wish I could do that.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of her chair and Spencer found himself doing the same. “I’m Blair.”

She held out her hand and Spencer shook it.

“Spencer.” He replied.

“Which one is yours?” Blair nodded towards the pool.

Spencer glanced around to see Daisy floating on her back in the water while her little sister spun herself around in circles, sending small waves crashing about.

“The brunette in the red bathing suit and the little one with the curly hair spinning about.” He smiled at his girls. “Yours?”

“Sitting on the edge, hasn’t taken his eyes off of your eldest.” She laughed.

Spencer’s eyes gravitated towards a boy around Daisy’s age on the edge of the pool. His eyes, that looked just like his mothers, were staring directly at his daughter.

He had a head of floppy dark hair, he looked to be tall even though he was sitting down. He awkwardly played with his hands in his lap whilst watching Daisy gracefully drift in the pool.

“Maybe we’ll have to make an introduction.” Spencer laughed as he looked back at Blair.

He did not miss the way her eyes glanced down to his left hand and he couldn’t help the way he returned the favour.

“Single dad?” She asked with a slightly melancholy smile.

“Yeah, me and their mom split up.” He nodded. “You?”

“Cameron’s dad was…not a nice man.” She replied, pulling a face.

Spencer could read between the lines.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth.

“It’s ok. He’s not around anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.” She forced a smile and even if it wasn't genuine it was still so pretty. “We were going to go for ice cream after this. Maybe you and your girls want to join us? We could introduce Cameron and…”

“Daisy. And the little one is Lily.”

“Cute names.” Blair smiled again and this time it was genuine.

“Not my choice, but thanks.” He laughed dryly. “And yes to ice cream. I think it’s safe to say we would all really enjoy that.”

“Great.”

“Great.” Spencer repeated dumbly, getting a little lost in Blair's eyes.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer felt something akin to decent.

***

He and Blair spent the next hour talking about anything and everything, his bag of books long forgotten.

She was the manager of an art gallery near DuPont circle, born and raised in the district. Her and her husband were high school sweethearts, marrying when they were just twenty two and having Cameron two years later.

She explained as much as her ex having a temper which didn’t manifest until after Cameron was born. She described him as controlling and intimidating but Spencer could tell by the way she shrunk a little as she spoke about him that he’d been abusive.

She said the last time she saw him was around the time Cameron turned ten, when he was being sentenced to prison time after a drunk driving incident where he’d killed two people.

She’d sent divorce papers to his lawyer a month later.

At thirty eight she was six years Spencer’s junior, but he’d always had a bit of a thing for a younger woman. It was certainly a pattern, both you and Maeve were younger than him which probably said all it needed to.

After a while, during a conversation about literature, Spencer felt a wet body suddenly wrapping around him from behind.

“Daddy, I’m bored.” Lily threw her arms around his neck, cuddling into his back.

“Hey pumpkin, where’s your sister?” He pulled her out from behind him and into his lap.

Lily pointed over his shoulder to where Daisy was strolling towards them, a lanky young man at her side.

He looked at Blair and they smiled at each other.

“You make a friend, Daisy?” Spencer looked back at her.

“Uh, yeah. This is Cam. This is my dad.” She rolled her eyes.

“Daisy, Lily, this is Blair. Cameron’s mom. We were going to go for ice cream with them, how does that sound?”

“Ice cream!” Lily screeched, wriggling in Spencer’s lap.

He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his giggling daughter.

“Sure, why not?” Daisy shrugged like she couldn’t care less as did Cameron.

Typical teenagers, Spencer thought.

He dried off Lily and had Daisy take her to the restrooms so they could both get changed. Cameron stayed as he hadn’t gone in the pool and didn’t have his wet clothes to change out of.

Spencer and Blair packed up their things and once the girls were back they left their respective cars at the pool and walked the two blocks to the ice cream place.

Daisy refused to sit with the adults and she and Cameron got their own table. Lily tried to sit with them too but her sister shooed her away.

Pouting due to be shot down by Daisy, she grew clingy and snuggled right up to Spencer while she ate her ice cream.

“Looks like they’re hitting it off.” Blair spoke between mouthfuls of her scoop, nodding towards the two teens.

“Looks that way.” Spencer nodded, feeling Lily’s ice cream dripping onto his shorts. “Lil, sweetheart, be careful please.”

“Sorry daddy.” She pouted.

Spencer and Blair continued to chat while Lily sulked by her dads side and the teens kept to themselves.

After a while Daisy appeared by their table, arms folded across her chest.

“Can we go to the pool again tomorrow?” She asked him.

“Can I assume Cameron is going to the pool tomorrow?” He teased her.

“Dad shut up!” She huffed. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Was I going to be consulted?” Blair asked her son as he joined them.

Cameron shrugged, looking equally the part of moody teenager as Daisy did.

“I thought we were going to the Smithsonian tomorrow? There was that exhibit you wanted to look at.” Spencer asked his daughter.

“No, that sounds lame.” She shook her head.

“I don’t think it sounds lame.” Cameron nudged her arm gently.

“No?” She smiled at him, practically giving him heart eyes.

“Can we go too mom?” Cameron turned to Blair.

“As long as they don’t mind the company, I don’t see why not.” Blair’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Spencer and Spencer smiled a little bashfully.

“That would be great.” He nodded.

“Gross, get a room.” Daisy scoffed, turning and skulking off again, Cameron close behind.

“Please never grow up.” He whispered to Lily, placing a kiss on her head.

“Ok daddy.” She nodded, mouth smeared with her mint choc chip.

***

Spencer and Blair exchanged numbers before going their separate ways. On Tuesday the five of them met up at the Smithsonian.

As was expected, Daisy and Cameron went on ahead while Spencer, Blair and Lily strolled behind them.

Conversation with Blair flowed easily, as if he’d known her his whole life. They had a lot in common, including being single parents with issues towards their exes.

Maybe she was exactly what Spencer needed. It was nice to talk to someone who understood him, who understood where he’d been. Blair took his mind off everything going on in his life, eased his troubles with her smile.

They ended up spending the whole day together, it seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. As the kids were getting into their cars, Spencer and Blair hung back.

“I had a really nice time today.” She smiled that easy smile at him and he reciprocated.

“So did I.” He agreed.

“I wondered if maybe you’d be interested in doing something again. Maybe without the kids?” She shrugged shyly.

“I would like that a lot.” He nodded. “The girls only go to their moms every other weekend but I can get a sitter.”

“When were you thinking?”

“As soon as humanly possible?” He confessed which made her laugh.

“Eager?” She chuckled lightly, a sound Spencer really enjoyed.

“Maybe a little.” He laughed too. “My friends have pretty demanding jobs though and they're out of state at the moment. The minute they’re back I can get one of them to sit the girls and I’d love to take you to dinner.”

“Sounds perfect.” Blair nodded, stepping a little closer and placing a gentle kiss on Spencer’s cheek. “See you soon, Spencer.”

“You most certainly will.” He swallowed, watching her get into her car before he moved towards his own.

He smiled the whole drive home.

***

On Wednesday he and the girls stayed home. The temperature dropped a few degrees and they mostly played in the yard with Taco.

On Thursday Daisy went to the mall with Meredith and Meredith’s mother so Spencer took Lily and Taco to the park.

In the evening Luke called to tell him they’d arrived back from their case and arranged to come over on Friday to help with his dog problems.

“One more thing,” Spencer said before Luke had a chance to hang up.

“Shoot,” Luke replied.

“I don’t suppose you and Garcia want some quality time with the girls tomorrow night do you?”

“Sick of them already? Man, it's gonna be a long summer.” Luke laughed.

“It’s not that.” Spencer chewed his lip.

“Oh,” Luke read between the lines. “You and Y/N make up?”

Spencer hated the way his chest tightened hearing your name and tried to ignore it.

“Uh, not exactly.” He sighed. “I might have met someone else.”

“Jeez, you’re like a woman magnet recently.” Luke laughed. “How are you finding these women?”

“I met her at the pool. She’s a single mom and she’s great, really great. We’ve hung out with the kids but I want to take her dinner.”

“Sure, Garcia and I can come by and look after the girls.”

“Or…” Spencer chewed his lip again. “They could come to your place?”

There were a few moments of silence in which Luke was once again reading between the lines.

“Right,” the older man started to laugh again. “Can’t bring a date home when you’ve got kids there. Got it.”

“That makes me sound like an ass.” Spencer sighed. “But you know, on the off chance that’s on the cards…”

“They can come to my place. I’ve got the guest room so I’d they don’t mind sharing then it’s no issue for me.”

“Have I told you that you are the best?”

“Not lately, no.” Luke rolled his eyes.

“Well, you are. Oh and please don’t tell anyone.”

Luke chuckled to himself, shaking his head before he responded.

“See you tomorrow, lover boy.”

***

You stood on the curb outside of the restaurant, hugging your arms around your waist whilst thinking, not for the first time tonight, why am I doing this?

It was your first official date with Sam, your old college friend and now you were here you didn’t know why.

The two of you had been close in college and you’d always had a little crush on him. He was smart and handsome and charming but you’d always remained just friends. After college you’d lost touch.

When you’d bumped into each other a few weeks ago you’d picked back up like no time had passed. You’d had dinner as friends, gotten coffee a few times but then he’d asked you out on a date.

If you’d never met Spencer, going on a date with your college crush would have been like all your wildest dreams come true. But you had met Spencer, and along the way forgotten all about Sam.

And now you were outside of the restaurant, looking in on him through the window, this was the last place in the world you wanted to be.

You liked Sam, there was still a spark between you. But he wasn’t Spencer.

As you were considering turning and leaving, calling him and telling him you’d come down with something, he spotted you through the window.

He waved at you and offered you that devilishly attractive smile and you waved back, trying to push down all thoughts of Spencer as you forced yourself inside.

He stood as soon as you neared the table and pulled you into his strong arms. His musky cologne smelt delicious and for a moment you were able to cast Spencer Reid from your mind.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” Sam beamed at you as he pulled away.

“Thank you.” You blushed a little, smoothing down the front of your sunflower yellow sundress.

Sam held your chair out for you and you slid into it, making yourself comfortable while he made his way to his own seat.

“I ordered a bottle of Merlot, I hope that’s ok? I remember it being your favourite.”

“Wow, good memory.” You smiled a little nervously.

“I never forgot a single thing about you.” He confessed, placing his napkin in his lap. “I had the biggest crush on you in college.”

“You did?” Your mouth fell open.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t exactly subtle.” He chuckled.

“I honestly had no idea. I wish I had, because I also had a huge crush on you.” You felt your cheeks burning.

“Well damn,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I guess so.” You nodded as your wine was brought over.

You perused your menus and soon ordered, and the two of you fell into comfortable conversation. That is until the topic of your dating history was brought up.

Sam admitted he’d dated a lot but never managed to settle down. When he turned the question back to you, you took a large sip of wine as Spencer reentered your brain.

“Honestly I haven’t really dated all that much. I was busy I guess. There was one guy, more recently, but it didn’t work out.” You chewed awkwardly on the inside of your cheek.

“The professor?”

“Huh?”

“You mentioned the professor you were working for, Reid? I noticed you got a little uncomfortable when you spoke about him and I wondered if there was a history.” Sam was smiling at you but you couldn’t return it.

“Yeah that was him.” You took another sip of wine. “He was…complicated. Two kids, an ex-wife who he was most certainly still in love with even though he would pretend otherwise.”

“Jeez,” Sam pulled a face. “That is complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” You sighed.

“Well, I’m just about as uncomplicated as they come.” He shot you one of those smiles that always made your knees a little weak.

“I like uncomplicated.” You smiled back.

“And I like you.” He slid his hand across the table and threaded his fingers with your own.

And when he touched you like that, Spencer was once again the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Luke made some progress with Taco which was more than Spencer expected. After a few gruelling hours the dog was responding to the commands of sit and stay which was impressive if you asked Spencer.

Luke told him it wouldn’t be easy, Taco wasn’t a puppy and therefore wouldn’t be as easy to train but Luke was certainly up to the challenge.

When the evening rolled around Spencer got ready for his date and Luke took the girls and Taco back to his place where Penelope was meeting them.

Spencer was strangely nervous as he got ready, but not necessarily in a good way. He remembered the excitement he felt on his first date with you and this was nothing like that.

Perhaps he knew this wasn’t right. Deep down something was telling him he shouldn’t go ahead with this. His own mental health and his kids needed to be his priority, he needed to focus on bettering himself for the girls.

But you’d made him realise just how lonely he was. And now he remembered what it was like to have someone he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone again. Even if it wasn’t you keeping him company.

He pushed down his nerves and thoughts of you, it wasn’t conducive and therefore he didn’t need to be plagued by it.

He finished getting ready, fighting his daily battle with his perpetually messy hair, before jumping in his car and heading out to meet Blair.

***

The first stumbling block happened within a few minutes of sitting down in the restaurant when Blair asked him if he wanted to get a bottle of wine.

He couldn’t very well admit to a woman whose husband was arrested for drunk driving that he was recovering from alcohol abuse. Instead he tried to talk his way out of it.

“I’m driving so it’s probably best I don’t drink.” He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Ok, just a glass then?” She smiled at him and he melted a little, almost agreeing because a glass of wine really would help take the edge off.

But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

“You know, I’ve not been feeling a hundred percent today so I think I’m going to just stick to water. Please have whatever you want though.” He insisted, trying to deflect.

“Oh, we could have rescheduled.” She pulled a face.

“It’s ok, I’m fine. I just don’t think alcohol would be a good idea.” That wasn’t a lie, alcohol would not be a good idea.

He felt like he dodged a bullet when she didn’t mention it any further. But the second stumbling block came after they had ordered their food.

“So I told you about my ex, you didn’t really tell me about yours.” She smiled sweetly, no idea the can of worms she was opening with that statement.

Spencer sipped his water, trying to pretend it was scotch but failed and was left disappointed.

“Uh, well, let’s see,” he took another sip. “We were married for thirteen years but for the last three of those, she was cheating on me.” He thought it best to just rip it off like a bandaid.

“Oh gosh,” Blair frowned around her wine glass. “That’s horrible.”

“I mean, it's nothing in comparison to what you’ve been through but yeah, it certainly wasn’t great.”

“I figured something must have happened because you said the girls only see her every two weeks.”

“I tried to fight for full custody if I’m honest.” He shrugged with a sigh. “But she is still their mom.”

“When did you split up, if you don’t mind me asking?” She swirled her wine around in her glass.

“A little over a year ago. It’s been tough but my girls are resilient.”

“And you?” Her eyes sparkled a little.

Was he going to make the same mistake with you and lie about his feelings? He didn’t see the point if he was honest. He’d lied to you because he didn’t want to freak you out, to cause you to end things before they’d really begun. But if he scared off Blair he wasn’t sure it would be the end of the world.

“Honestly, I’m still working through some stuff. It took me a long time to admit even to myself that I was hurt by what she did. I’m still processing my feelings, and if that’s not what you want to hear I’m sorry. But we were married for a long time and it is still kinda fresh.” He exhaled, took another sip of water.

“People think because they’re the ones who did the terrible thing that you should be glad to be rid of them.” She half-smiled. “As you’ve probably figured out, my ex was abusive and all my friends told me I should be happy to finally be out of that relationship. But they didn’t get it. No one does.

We had so many good times in the early years, he was so wonderful to me and I loved him so much. But then his job started getting on top of him and he started drinking and the alcohol made him angry. For the most part I was relieved that it was over but there’s still a part of me even now that misses him, misses…” she trailed off and swallowed but Spencer knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“You miss what you used to have.” He filled in the blanks. “I understand. Me and my ex had some really good times too and it’s hard to just forget all of that and hate her completely for what she did. She gave me Daisy and Lily and a part of me will always love her for that. People don’t understand though, not unless they’ve been there.”

“Wow,” she smiled a little shakily. “It’s so nice to meet someone who gets it.”

“It really is.” He agreed with his own smile.

Spencer had in one capacity or another felt misunderstood his entire life. But the way Blair was looking at him made him feel seen for the first time.

It allowed him to loosen up, to relax enough to enjoy his evening. He’d only ever wanted someone to understand and he felt like he finally found that in Blair.

***

Luke Alvez leant against the kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

The sound of the two girls was more than enough, he didn’t need to witness what was going on as well.

Penelope had been gone for twenty minutes to shower and in that time, all hell seemed to have broken loose.

When she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in her brightly coloured pyjama bottoms and matching tank top, she froze in the doorway at the scene in front of her.

Roxy was hiding away in the corner whilst Taco was being held rather precariously under Lily’s arm. She was spinning the poor dog around in circles, jumping up and down on Luke’s couch and scream-singing at the top of her lungs.

Daisy had her head in her phone, narrowly avoiding Lily jumping on her and Garcia could see the anger rising on the older girl's face.

She looked over at Luke in the open plan kitchen and his closed eyes before storming towards him.

“I was gone for twenty minutes!” She slapped his bicep. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He opened his eyes and looked at his girlfriend. “I did nothing!”

“Uncle Luke made hot cocoa!” Lily screeched.

“Did he now?” Penelope frowned at him. “And how much sugar exactly did you put in it?”

“Lots of sugar!” Lily squealed again.

“I swear to god Lily if you hit me one more time!” Daisy spat her at her sister, looking up from her phone.

“Daisy’s texting a boy!” Lily giggled.

Honestly, Taco had the patience of a saint because he didn’t seem at all disturbed by being bounced around the way he was.

“I am not! Shut up!” Daisy growled.

“Are too!” Lily replied, jumping off the couch and landing on the floor. “Daisy and Cameron sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Shut up you brat!” Daisy tossed her phone aside and got up, advancing on her sister.

Luke suddenly jumped into action and crossed the room in barely three strides.

“Whoa!” He lightly placed his hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Please don’t hurt your sister.”

“She’s being a bitch!” Daisy huffed.

“Hey now,” Penelope hurried over. “You do not use language like that.”

“All my friends say it.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Daddy says it too!” Lily chimed in, thankfully putting Taco down and he scurried over to Roxy. “I heard him call mommy a bitch. What does it mean?”

“It means-”

“Nothing.” Luke cut Daisy off. “It doesn’t mean anything. But we shouldn’t be saying it ok? It’s an adult word.”

“Ok!” Lily shrugged, going back to jumping up and down. “I’m a rabbit!”

“No you’re not you’re a bit-”

“Do not finish that sentence young lady.” Penelope snapped. She hated being strict but Luke was such a softy she often had to be the bad guy. “Girls enough of this. Daisy, you will not call your sister that word. In fact you will not call anyone that word. And Lily, if your sister is texting a boy leave her to it. She’s fourteen, she’s allowed to text a boy. I think. Does your dad know you’re texting a boy?”

“Dads met him.” She shrugged, not exactly answering the question. “And he’s on a date with Blair, Cam’s mom right now.”

“He’s…he’s…” she turned to Luke who was trying to shrink away. “You said he was out with JJ and Will?”

“Uh…” Luke grabbed her hand and led her towards the kitchen. “He told me not to tell anyone.”

“Even me?” She tried to keep her tone quiet. “How does Daisy know and I didn’t?”

“She’s Reid’s kid, she’s as smart as a whip.” Luke whispered.

“I thought he was…is he incapable of being single?”

“I don’t know what’s going on with him to be honest. I’m kinda worried about him.” Luke admitted.

“Me too.” Penelope pouted.

“Give it back, you bitch!” Daisy yelled, garnering their attention.

“Daisy and Cameron sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N…OW!” Lily screamed.

Penelope and Luke ran back into the room to find Lily on the floor, violently sobbing and Daisy standing over her with a slightly smug look on her face.

“What did you do?” Garcia asked the older girl while Luke picked Lily up in his arms and cradled her.

“She took my phone!” Daisy stamped her foot.

“She pushed me!” Lily wailed.

“It’s ok sweetheart, it’s ok. Let’s lie down.” Luke cooed as he carried her through to his guest room.

“You do not push your sister, Daisy. You know that.” Penelope sighed.

“She’s just such a bitch!”

“For the love of all that is sparkly you have to stop saying that word.” Garcia groaned. “You get a time out, come on.”

She took Daisy’s wrist in her hand and led her to Luke’s bedroom. She opened the door and motioned her inside.

“Phone,” she held out her hand.

“No way.” Daisy scoffed.

“Daisy Diana Reid, give me your phone right now before I call your father.” Penelope growled at the young girl.

Daisy pulled a face, similar to her dad when he was upset. She let out a breath and placed the device in Penelope’s hand.

“Thank you. Now go sit down and think about what you did.” Garcia closed the door on Daisy and padded back to the couch where she flopped down.

Luke emerged from the guest room a few minutes later alone and joined her.

“I know we’ve only just started dating but can I say I don’t think I ever want kids.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Right now I’m gonna have to agree with you.” Penelope nodded.

Luke closed his eyes and took a moment to relish the quiet. But it was very short lived as soon there was a gagging sound coming from the corner of the room.

Both of them looked over just in time to see Taco, the previous activities having caught up on him, vomit all over the carpet.

“I’ll get the cleaning supplies.” Penelope sighed loudly, getting back to her feet.

“I’ll call Reid.”

***

“I had a really great time tonight.” Sam glanced at you with a smile as you walked side by side down the street towards your apartment.

“I did too.” You nodded.

And it was true, you really did have a wonderful time with Sam. Conversation had flowed easily between the two of you, like it had back in college.

So you didn’t have quite the same level of intellectual debate as you did with Spencer. At least Sam was your own age, even if that didn’t necessarily mean you had more in common.

He walked you to your door like a gentleman and you turned to face him on the street. He was smiling down at you, eyes sparkling.

“Would I completely blow my chances of a second date if I kissed you?” He asked somewhat shyly.

“I’d say it would greatly increase your chances of a second date if you were to kiss me.” You smiled.

“Oh thank god.” He chuckled, his nerves melting away.

He stepped closer to you and cupped your face before drawing you in for a tender kiss. It was nice. But it was missing the kind of passion you had with Spencer.

It wasn’t frantic and demanding like Spencer's kisses. It didn’t make your knees buckle or the air leave your lungs.

It was nice. But it wasn’t the same.

Sam pulled back and he was smiling brightly at you, you tried your best to return it.

“I have waited so long to do that.” He laughed.

“I hope it was worth the wait.”

“Most definitely.”

You looked over your shoulder at your building before looking back at him, knowing what you were about to say was an utterly stupid idea. But you said it nonetheless.

“My roommates are out. Do you wanna come inside?”

It didn’t take someone with Spencer’s IQ to figure out what you meant and judging by the look on Sam’s face he knew exactly what you were getting at.

“I would love that. But are you sure?”

In response you simply took hold of his hand and led him up the stairs of your building. You were determined to get Spencer out of your head no matter the cost.

***

After dinner, Spencer held the door of the restaurant open for Blair to exit first and she thanked him with a smile.

They stepped out onto the street and she turned to him.

“I never do this.” She laughed lightly. “I never go on dates.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his lips between his teeth, remembering telling you the same.

“Say, I don’t want to be too forward but I’ve been single a long time so I’m just going to go for it. I would really like to kiss you.” She blushed at her own words and Spencer thought it was incredibly endearing.

“I would also very much like to kiss you.” He agreed, moving closer and cupping her face.

He kissed her and she melted against him, gasping a little at the sensation in which Spencer took the initiative to guide his tongue into her mouth.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close while he deepened the kiss. And he tried not to think about you.

By the time the kiss broke they were both panting slightly and she was smiling at him, eyes sparkling.

“My kids are staying with their uncle tonight,” he blurted out. “So I have a free house. If it’s not too bold of me to say.”

“It is kind of bold.” She laughed. “But I like it.”

He smiled and kissed her again, hoping if he took her home he would banish all thoughts of you aside. But as he kissed her, his phone started to ring.

He pulled back reluctantly and offered Blair an apologetic smile, pulling the device from his pocket and seeing Luke’s name on the screen.

“Sorry I should get this, it could be about my girls.”

“Of course, go ahead.” She nodded and Spencer took a few steps away before answering the phone.

“Is everything ok?” He instantly went into panic mode.

“Uh, not exactly.” Luke sighed. “Lily was hopped up on sugar and annoying Daisy. Daisy kept calling her a…b-i-t-c-h and then she pushed Lily and now Lily won’t stop crying. And your dog was sick everywhere.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as he let the information wash over him.

“I’ll be right there.” He grumbled.

“Sorry man. We tried.”

“See you soon.” Spencer sighed again, hanging up the phone, moving back towards Blair. “I’m so sorry, my kids have gone rogue. Can we have a rain check?”

“Sure and don’t worry about it. One’s hard enough as a single parent, I can’t imagine having two.”

“It’s like having one, only ten times as hard.” He laughed dryly. “I’ll call you.”

He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and watched as she headed down the street to hail a cab. Soon he was turning in the opposite direction and speed walking towards his car.

Was it too much to ask just to have one night to himself? He loved his girls, more than anything else in the world, but sometimes they made his life harder than he ever could have prepared for.

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @ssa-uglywhore27 @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

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

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hbyrde36 · 10 months ago

Text

Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

CH 1 CH 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Chapter 5: Under Pressure

WC: 7049 | AO3 link

TW: Mentions of past homophobic abuse

“I- I think so?” Robin said.

Eddie shook her gently. “Robin, the two of you basically share a brain at this point. If you think you know, then you know.”

“Okay, yeah, I'm on it!” She said, nodding rapidly as she ran from the room. He could hear her feet flying all the way up the stairs and into Steve’s bedroom.

Eddie cradled Steve’s face in his shaking hands. “Stay with me Stevie, please? Just hold on.”

Robin came charging back into the kitchen less than a minute later, cassette in hand. “I’ve got the tape, but I can’t find his Walkman!”

“Shit.” Eddie cursed, remembering too late that it was probably out in Steve’s car like it had been in the last loop, but they couldn't risk wasting more precious time retrieving it. “Just put it in the living room stereo and crank the volume.”

In seconds a familiar baseline began to filter in from the other room.

🎵Pressure pushin' down on me🎵

🎵Pressin' down on you, no man ask for🎵

🎵Under pressure that brings a building down🎵

Eddie almost had to laugh.

“Under Pressure? Little on the nose don’t you think, big boy?” He murmured to Steve under his breath.

Robin rushed back in, worrying her bottom lip as the song continued to play.

🎵Watchin' some good friends screamin' Let me out🎵

🎵Pray tomorrow gets me higher🎵

🎵Pressure on people, people on streets🎵

Eddie kept waiting for Steve to snap out of it, for there to be some kind of reaction but there was nothing. He wasn’t responding, but he wasn’t floating either—It was the only indication he had that they were doing something right. It would have been reassuring except that the song was almost over and he didn’t know what would happen when it reached its end and they were forced to stop and rewind the tape.

“Come on, come on, come on.” Robin chanted, staring intently at Steve’s face, looking–just as Eddie was–for any small change. “Why isn't it working, Eddie? Why won’t he snap out of it?”

He didn’t reply to her, he had no answers to give. All he could do was plead with Steve, beg him not to leave them like this.

“We can’t do this without you. You gotta come back, man.” Eddie’s voice cracked, tears threatening to spill down his face but he forced them back. “You have to fight your way out.”

Robin latched onto his back, adding her own cries to his plea. “Don’t do this to me Dingus, please. I’m not raising these kids without you. We need you—I need you. ”

Eddie’s heart sank as the final notes of the song played, but just when the rhythmic snaps started to fade out Steve sucked in a sharp breath, and his beautiful eyes returned to normal. He pitched forward hard as he came back to himself, but Eddie was right there to catch him and slowly lowered them both to the floor, half cradling the other boy in his lap.

Steve whimpered, letting out the most heartbreaking sound as he wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders, holding onto him right back—gripping him hard enough to hurt. Eddie couldn't have cared less, he’d take the bruises. No force on this earth could have made him let go of Steve right then, or vice versa.

“It's over.” Eddie said softly, reaching for what he could say to reassure Steve that he was safe now. “You’re on the floor in your kitchen with me and Robin. I don’t know what he showed you, but I promise you it wasn’t real.”

Robin fell to her knees beside them and added herself to the pile, her body shaking with the force of her own sobs. Steve removed one of his hands from its vice grip on Eddie and grabbed onto her as they all rocked lightly together.

“This is real. Me and Eddie are real. We’ve got you.” Robin added.

Eddie whispered words of comfort into Steve's hair over and over again. There was nothing else he could do for him except to just be there. He knew Vecna liked to take your worst moments and twist them into something even more awful and devastating—to use your worst fears against you, and Steve had lived through a lifetime’s worth of trauma in just the last few years alone, leaving him with no shortage of bad memories to choose from.

The three of them remained huddled together on the floor for a long time, until Steve finally quieted. Still, Eddie didn’t want to let him go. He was sure Robin didn’t want to either, but the clock was ticking. There was no guarantee that Vecna would lay off for any long period of time. They needed to get Steve’s music back on, now, and get him a tape made as soon as possible.

Robin seemed to arrive at the same conclusion he did, and pulled back from the group hug swiping roughly at her face. “He- he’s gonna need his Walkman. Steve, where–”

“His car,” Eddie answered for him. “I’m sorry… I didn’t remember until–”

“It’s okay.”

Robin sat back on her heels and looked thoughtfully between the two of them—Eddie looking back at her, and Steve still hiding his face in Eddie’s chest. She nodded to herself once and stood up, brushing herself off.

“You got him?” She asked.

He felt terrible. He knew he should be the one to go. Get the Walkman, do the tape, all of it, and leave the two best friends to console each other, but this was his worst fear come to life—that his changing something had resulted in someone else getting hurt. It should have been him, not Steve.

“Yeah, Buckley. I got him.”

Robin bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, pausing in silent debate for a moment before doing the same to Eddie, and went to take care of business.

Finally Steve sat up a little, no longer needing to be completely held up. His eyes were red-rimmed, swollen, and he looked exhausted.

“I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask stupid questions, but is there anything I can do?” Eddie asked.

“Help me up?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Eddie said, the pet name slipping off his tongue so easily and naturally that he almost didn’t realize he’d said it. Not that it mattered given the circumstances. He didn't have the energy to care just then anyway. There would be plenty of time to panic about it later.

With help Steve managed to get to his feet, though it was obvious that he was still a bit shaky.

“Think you can make it to the couch, or do you want me to carry you?” Eddie asked. He honestly intended for it to come off as a joke, but even as he said it he knew he would have done it had Steve asked—had he needed him to.

Steve rolled his eyes but that didn’t stop Eddie from noticing the slight flush creeping up his neck. “I’ll manage.”

The blush continued to spread, pinkening his cheeks as Eddie led him into the other room with a guiding hand on his lower back for support.

Once he’d seen Steve safely to a seat, Eddie joined Robin on the floor where she was surrounded by blank tapes looking lost, which was fair. The Harrington's sound system was a little intimidating if you were only used to a standard radio. He patiently showed her what the kids had done the night before to make Chrissy and Max's tapes—where to load each cassette, which buttons to press, and in no time they were making progress on Steve’s very own mixtape.

Steve was quiet while they worked, and the longer it took the more he seemed to withdraw into himself as he stared off into space.

Just over two hours later it was done, both sides of the cassette were full of back-to back-recordings of Under Pressure.

Robin excitedly ejected the tape and popped it into the portable player, walking it over to Steve and placing the headphones over his ears herself. He took the player from her with a weak smile and pulled his knees to his chest, going right back to gazing at nothing as the music played.

She caught Eddie’s eye and the two of them shared a worried look. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, though he didn’t know what, when the sound of the front door hit their ears.

It had to be the girls coming back from their mission to find Fred, but the noise still put him on alert, and he only relaxed when he heard Nancy—already talking before she and Chrissy had even rounded the corner to the living room.

“We couldn’t find Fred. He wasn’t home, and neither were his parents. We checked the diner, the library, even stopped at the school in case he went in to work on the paper. I just can’t imagine where…” She trailed off, finally looking up and spotting Steve tucked into the corner of the couch.

Chrissy went pale as she noticed him too—her hands flying up to touch the wires of her own headphones hanging loosely around her neck. “Oh my god, Steve, I- I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m alright.” Steve said, sitting up straighter and squaring his shoulders.

It was as though Eddie could physically see him putting himself back together now that he had more of an audience, and he kind of hated that Steve felt like he had to be strong at all times. He should be allowed to fall apart if he needed to, and if he would allow it, Eddie would be right there to put him back together again.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t find your friend,” Steve continued. “Maybe Vecna won’t go for him now, considering how things have changed.” He waved a hand, motioning vaguely to himself.

He didn’t even sound bitter about it, that’s what fucked Eddie up the most, and of course he didn’t want anything bad to happen to anyone if they could avoid it, but if it came down to a relative stranger or Steve? Right or wrong, Eddie knew what his choice would be.

“Steve, don’t…” Nancy began, but Robin quickly cut her off.

“Hey! So I was thinking… Why don’t we all go, and let the boys get some rest? My parents are expecting me home tonight anyway, and Nance I’m sure your dad is ready to kill the kids by now. Do you think you could give me and Chrissy a ride?”

A few hours ago Eddie would have been nervous at the prospect of being left completely alone in the house with Steve, but now he could have kissed Robin for jumping in like that. He also owed her one, again, for letting him be the one to stay with Steve. After the way he had tensed when Nancy and Chrissy walked through the door, it was clear he didn’t need the extra stress of so many eyes on him right now.

“Yeah… if you’re sure you two will be okay here alone.” Nancy said, aiming the question at Steve who simply clenched his jaw and nodded.

Chrissy looked down at the floor, shifting her weight from one foot to he other. “I’m still trying to avoid my parents.”

“No, um, I was thinking you could come home with me tonight?" Robin said quickly. "Buddy system, right? We should stick together.”

Nancy didn’t look too happy about any of it, but thankfully remained quiet as Robin said her goodbyes to Steve. The two friends hugged, sharing a brief whispered conversation, and if Robin’s face was sporting a few new tear tracks as they pulled apart, no one was going to call her on it.

“I'll be right back,” Eddie assured Steve, before following after the three girls to walk them to the door.

Nancy went right for the car after giving Eddie one last sidelong glance. Chrissy hesitated, throwing an apologetic smile his way before following after her. Robin lagged behind, pulling Eddie into a fierce hug. “He’s my best friend—just, promise me you’ll take care of him?”

“I promise.” Eddie said easily, hesitating before deciding to say more. “I– he means something to me too.”

“I noticed.” She said, giving him a knowing smile, and rushed off to the car before Nancy could get too impatient.

Eddie waited for their car to pull away before closing and locking the door, quickly returning to Steve's side.

"Listen, uh-” He began, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m not gonna push you to talk about what you saw or anything, but I’m here for you if you do want to talk about it, or for anything really. I... care about you. I know that's—maybe that's weird for you and if it is I'm sorry. It’s just-”

He trailed off for a moment, waving a hand through the air. “Time loop shit, y’know? We’ve been through a lot together even if you don’t remember it, and seeing you like that–"

The silence stretched between them for a minute with Eddie unable to finish his thought.

"Thanks, Eddie. Really I... I don't.” Steve stuttered out after a while. “It’s not weird, its—nice, that you care. I don’t think I'm ready to talk about any of it yet? But um, when I am… it’s– I’m glad you’re here.”

Eddie nodded, relieved. He wondered what they should do now, what might make Steve feel a little better, bring him back to himself. Like earlier, he came back to food. Wayne was always trying to feed him when he had a bad day, and while this was maybe a lot worse than anything you’d call a bad day, a little nourishment certainly couldn’t hurt.

“Alright, come on.” He said finally, getting up from the couch and offering Steve a hand.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked, letting Eddie pull him to his feet.

“We haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I kinda want to see what I can throw together in that fancy kitchen of yours.”

He sat Steve down on one of the stools pulled up to the counter, feeling eyes on his back as he flitted around the kitchen doing a thorough search of the refrigerator, freezer, and pantry to get a feel for what ingredients he had to play with.

At first Steve had tried to insist on helping, since Eddie was technically the guest here, but with a little convincing he seemed happy to watch with barely concealed amusement as Eddie worked.

He was pretty good at making something out of nothing, so the fact that the fridge was just on the wrong side of barren wasn’t a problem.

“Do you like to cook?” Steve asked.

“Not really a matter of liking it, but yeah, I don't mind. My uncle works a lot so I've always tried to help out, then he went on the night shift and it was either this or starve. What about you?”

“I can cook a little. Got tired of takeout and frozen meals so I started trying a few recipes here and there. It’s fun, actually. I like chopping stuff.”

Eddie chuckled lightly. “Yeah, me too.”

Something about it did have him wondering though, and not for the first time, where Steve’s parents were. Obviously they were out of town right now, otherwise the party wouldn’t have had the run of the house all the time like this, but the way Steve was talking made it sound like they were around even less than Eddie had thought. He might have asked about it but he had a hunch that parents weren’t a happy topic for Steve, and he was determined to keep things light for now.

“So, what are you making anyway?”

“Goulash? I don’t know if that’s really it’s name but that’s what Wayne always called it.”

There had been a single sad borderline freezer-burnt package of ground beef in the freezer. Not much on its own but add that to a box of noodles, a few cans of tomatoes, and some of those fancy rich people seasonings? And it was some good shit. A recipe he could make with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back.

It took maybe all of 20 minutes before their meal was ready, and to Eddie’s surprise they talked the whole time. Steve asked him more questions about the food he grew up with, and what sort of things he liked to make for himself now, and as the conversation flowed he seemed to return more and more to his usual self.

Eddie scooped some of the delicious concoction into a couple bowls and plopped one down in front of Steve with a little bow, a move that drew the widest smile out of the other boy that he’d seen all day.

He ate standing over the counter, which he often did even at home, but in this case it was just so he could keep looking at Steve.

“Where did you learn to play guitar?” Steve asked between inhaling forkfuls of pasta, somehow not growing sick of listening to Eddie babble on about himself.

“Self taught, mostly. Wayne got me this second hand acoustic the first birthday I had with him. I checked out some books for beginners from the library and figured out the basics that way, and then I just learned by listening, trial and error.”

Steve put his fork down, blinking up at him. “That’s… you’re kind-of incredible, Eddie.”

Heat rose to his cheeks instantly and he ducked his head, avoiding having to respond by taking a much-too-big bite of his food.

With full happy bellies they returned to the living room after cleaning up the remnants of Eddie’s culinary masterpiece. Steve looked even more exhausted than he had before, a side effect of the aforementioned culinary masterpiece no doubt, but when Eddie suggested he turn-in for the night early, the other boy insisted he was fine.

“I hate all this sitting around waiting and not doing anything.” Steve huffed, plopping himself down heavily on the couch.

“We did manage to arm ourselves, I'd say that’s pretty good work for one day.”

“I know, and I know I’m the one that told the kids we needed to wait to make a move until everyone was together, but—it just doesn’t usually happen like this. When this shit comes back it’s always go-go-go right from the start. There isn’t all this time to sit around and… think.”

Eddie could understand that. If he wasn’t using so much of his energy in worrying about Steve right now, he’d probably be feeling more antsy about the lack of progress on a plan himself, but as it was, he was happy they had a little time to just breathe.

“Let’s find something to do besides think then, yeah? What sorta movies you got laying around here? Must be something worthwhile about working at Family Video.”

Steve gestured to the cabinets on the other side of a large built-in entertainment center, the one opposite the stereo system they’d been using earlier. Inside was a plastic shopping bag loaded up with VHS tapes. Eddie quickly flipped through the titles, unimpressed with the selection until he reached the last one.

“Goonies?! Dude, that literally just came out on video!”

Steve shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I may have snatched a copy before they went out on the shelves the other day. For the kids.”

Eddie grinned. “Screw the kids, we’re definitely watching this.”

They barely got past the opening credits before Steve fell asleep, his head falling to rest on Eddie's shoulder as his entire body relaxed. For the next hour and 54 minutes Eddie didn’t dare move a muscle, not wanting to disturb Steve when he’d finally allowed himself to rest. On a more selfish note, the situation allowed him to enjoy the feeling of Steve's body against his own without having to feel self-conscious or guilty about it.

Unfortunately, the movie had to end eventually and then Eddie had no more excuses. He roused Steve as gently as he could, lightly nudging his shoulder until he blinked awake with bleary eyes.

“Come on big boy, let’s get you to bed.” Eddie whispered.

Steve nodded absently, allowing Eddie to pull him to his feet again, just as he had earlier, except this time once he was vertical Steve didn’t let go—instead linking their fingers together as he held on tight to Eddie’s hand.

They had touched far more than this only a few hours ago, but for some reason feeling Steve's warm palm pressed so purposefully against his own made Eddie's breath hitch, and he froze in surprise.

“You’re coming too, aren't you?” Steve said through a huge yawn, tugging on Eddie’s arm when he didn’t move right away.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Eddie replied in a daze.

He thought Steve would drop right back off to sleep once they were laying down in the comfort of his bed, but as they faced each other, he could see the other boy's eyes shining in the dark—reflecting the dim glow of a streetlight peeking in through a crack in the blinds.

“It felt like I was stuck in there for a long time.” Steve said after a while, his fingers picking nervously at a spot on the sheet beneath them. “I know it was only a few minutes… but it felt like so much more. He showed me Robin getting beaten up by the Russians at Starcourt. When it happened for real, I was able to keep their attention on me most of the time, but in there–”

Steve stopped himself mid sentence. It was clear he was fighting back tears and Eddie didn't hesitate to offer his hand, laying it out between them on the sheets. Steve took it immediately, fiddling with Eddie’s rings as he continued to talk.

“Then it was the kids—Dustin. There were these tunnels, and I had gotten the rest of them out but he… The demodogs were coming too fast. All I could do was wrap myself around him and hope that was enough. Back then we got lucky, the dogs just ran off right past us for some reason, but he changed it. Vecna, he… I saw–”

He broke off with a sob, his whole body shaking with it. Eddie scooped him up into his arms, running soothing hands along his back.

“The dogs, they- they tore him apart.”

Steve clung to Eddie like a lifeline, just as he had in the kitchen, burying his face in Eddie's chest as he went on. “He also showed me my parents. It was nothing compared to watching Dustin or Robin being hurt, but god Eddie... It was like hearing every shitty thing they’ve ever said to me all at once. How much of a failure and a disappointment I am. Too dumb, too soft, too sensitive. How I could never be the man they wanted me to be.”

“You know that’s all horseshit, right? You don’t believe any of that stuff, do you?” Eddie said.

Steve only sniffled, shrugging with his face still hidden, pressed against Eddie’s borrowed shirt.

“Hey, none of that.” Eddie leaned away, gently tilting Steve's head up to look at him. “You are an amazing person, Steve Harrington. You are kind and loyal and brave and absolutely selfless, literally to a fault sometimes. You’ve been saving those kids—shit, you’ve been helping save this whole town for fucking years. Even without all that, if your parents can’t see how lucky they are to have you for a son, then fuck them. Seriously.”

Like the morning before, Steve was gone again when Eddie woke up, but this time he wasn’t in the bathroom.

He rushed down the stairs in a panic, worried about what might have happened in the night. What if the Walkman’s batteries had run out. Eddie had flipped the tape for him once in the middle of the night when he’d woken briefly and realized it was a little too quiet, but each side only ran for so long.

Maybe they should have set an alarm.

In his distraught state, he didn’t smell the coffee or the bacon cooking, only noticing the aroma when he skidded down the hallway on socked feet to find Steve in the kitchen making them breakfast.

The wave of relief nearly sent him to the floor, and he had to grab onto the wall to keep himself upright. Steve had his headphones on and was mercifully facing away so he didn’t notice Eddie’s ridiculous overreaction.

When Steve did finally turn and saw him standing there, the look that spread over his face threatened to finish the job and put Eddie on his ass. There were no walls strong enough to keep him from falling when the insurmountable force that was Steve Harrington’s smile was aimed at him like that.

In a role reversal from the night before, it looked like it was Eddie’s turn to watch while Steve cooked for him.

He wanted to turn the tables in other ways too, by asking Steve more about himself like he'd done for him the night before. The problem was, everything Eddie could think of that he wanted to ask would inevitably lead to topics he didn't want to bring up while Steve looked so light and happy.

A hundred little questions died on his tongue as he shot each one down for one reason or another.

Somehow sensing his struggle Steve interrupted his thoughts. “Eddie, I'm okay. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me…. I can tell there's something you want to say.”

“Sorry.” Eddie said, wondering when Steve had gotten so good at reading him. “It's nothing specific really I just-” He shrugged. “I dunno, you let me talk your ear off about myself last night and I guess I wanted to do the same for you. I want to know more about you—the real shit you don’t learn through the high school rumor mill, but I didn’t want to bring up anything that would bum you out.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “All roads lead to the Upside Down. This—stuff, it kinda takes over your life once you’re in it. There’s not many days that go by where I don’t think about it, at least a little. It’s okay. Go on, what do you want to know?”

Everything, was the honest answer, but in the interest of starting somewhere Eddie asked, “Why didn’t you leave? Go to college or just move or something, why did you stay here after graduation?”

“I always planned to go to college. I’d even filled out the application and everything. I was still working on my essay when it all started up again the second time. In the middle of it all I got the shit beat out of me by Billy Hargrove, my first serious concussion, and suddenly it just didn’t seem important anymore.”

Steve blew out a long breath, plucking the last two pieces of bacon out of the pan with a pair of tongs and adding it to the pile already draining on paper towels. He was quiet as he plated up the food, sliding one of them across the counter to Eddie before finally continuing.

“I was supposed to go to business school, get a degree, and work for my dad—at least that’s what he wanted me to do.”

“What do you want?” Eddie asked.

Steve smiled sadly.

“To make it to 21.”

“Jesus, Steve.”

“Sorry.” He said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I don't know. I guess, I've never really thought about what I wanted. Only what was expected of me.”

“What about when you were a kid? What did little Stevie Harrington want to be when he grew up?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Steve asked.

“Cross my heart.”

“An astronaut.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

He would have expected something very different, though nothing less grand— professional athlete of some kind maybe? It was a pleasant surprise though, and he felt like he’d uncovered Steve’s nerdy little secret. It was kinda hot.

“I was only like two years old, but I remember everyone gathering around the TV to watch the moon landing, and then seeing the footage again when we learned about it in school. I thought it was the coolest job, getting to explore something new, to see and touch things no one else ever had before. I know I'm not smart enough for NASA, I figured that out pretty early on, But yeah, that was my first big dream.”

“There’s lots of different kinds of smart, Steve. And for what it's worth I think you’d have made a great astronaut. NASA only wishes they could have someone as strong and fearless as you.”

It wasn’t until after they’d finished breakfast that Eddie realized it had been almost 24 hours since they’d sent the kids packing to Mike’s house.

“I’m surprised that Dustin and Co haven't knocked down the door yet. Do you think Nancy told them… about yesterday?”

“She did. She uh, also told them to give me some space today unless there was an emergency.”

“Huh. That was nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

Part of Eddie wanted to just come out and ask. The more he saw them interact, the more confused he was about whatever was or wasn’t going on between Steve and Nancy. Half the time Steve just seemed stressed and uncomfortable around her but Eddie couldn’t tell if that was only due to the whole exes thing, or if it was because he still had feelings for her. But somehow, even after everything else they’d opened up to each other about, it felt like a step too far, and he didn’t want to accidentally make things weird between them.

They spent the rest of the day being blissfully lazy, which again felt so strange in the middle of everything, but it was also just what Eddie needed. It was nice to have a break from it all, to feel normal for once even if it was only temporary, even if they were playing pretend.

Reality, of course, came crashing down on them just as they decided to turn in for the night, when Robin called to let them know Fred’s body had been found earlier in the day in the woods behind his house.

It was a blow for sure, and Eddie felt awful for not doing more to help when Nancy had suggested it, but there was nothing they could do about it now. He’d managed to save Chrissy, and that would have to be enough.

“How come you live with your uncle?” Steve asked, a little out of the blue as they were getting into bed.

They’d both been quiet since getting the bad news from Robin, and that might have been part of why Eddie was so taken aback by the question, or maybe it was just because the answer wasn’t a happy one.

Steve quickly realized he’d accidentally struck a nerve and immediately tried to backpedal. “Sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think. I- I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, you already know my deepest darkest secret so–” Eddie shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but Steve wasn’t buying it. They’d grown too close for that now.

It was a painful story, and not something Eddie usually like to even think about, let alone talk about, but he realized with a start that he did want to. For better or worse he wanted Steve to know him, all of him.

“My mom left when I was five. Couldn’t blame her, my Dad is a real mean bastard. I thought that maybe one day she’d come back for me but… Anyway, I did my best to keep my head down, stay on his good side. I was nine when he started taking me out on jobs, I got real good at hot-wiring. He loved that his son was turning out just like him.”

Eddie scoffed, the very thought of him becoming anything like that garbage dump of a human being was disgusting, laughable. He’d played a part, acted the way Al Munson expected a son of his to act out of self preservation, nothing more.

“I hated it, but it kept him off my back for a while. A couple years later I skipped school one day with a friend, who also happened to be my very first crush. I thought my dad was out for the day. We weren’t even doing anything, just hanging out listening to music, which is why I didn’t hear the old man come home. I don’t know how long he watched us from the doorway, but he must have seen something on my face that tipped him off. Maybe he’d already suspected it and this was his confirmation, I don't know. When I finally noticed him standing there, he- he looked so angry, and I just knew that he knew—that he’d seen.”

Eddie rolled over, staring resolutely at the ceiling. He’d never told the full truth of that day to anyone before. Wayne knew the most, not every detail, but enough that he’d sooner kill his own brother than to ever speak to him again.

“My friend left, I’m sure he just thought I was in trouble for skipping. I don’t remember much of what happened right after that, it’s all a bit of a blur, but I know he beat the absolute shit out of me. I woke up later that night on the floor. One of my eyes was swollen shut and there was hair and blood stuck to the carpet all around me. He’d taken a pair of clippers to my head. Looking back, I know I was lucky he hadn’t killed me but in the moment I was just so mad that he’d cut my stupid hair. It was long, not as long as it is now but he’d hated it, thought it made me look like a girl, or a queer.”

Eddie let out a burst of humorless laughter, the sound wetter than he’d expected it to be, from the tears he only just realized were streaming down his face. He rubbed at his cheeks absently and cleared his throat.

“I’d only met Wayne a few times, he and my dad never really got along, but he’d always been nice to me. I knew where he lived, so I shoved a few things into a bag and hitchhiked to Hawkins. He took me in, no questions asked. Dad got arrested on a drug charge a few weeks later, wound up going to prison, been there ever since.”

“Can I hold you?” Steve asked, sounding as though he’d been crying too and Eddie realized he’d been hovering there for a while, unsure if his touch would be welcome. Given the story, it was understandable, and incredibly thoughtful and sweet of him to check first.

Eddie nodded, allowing Steve to pull him into the circle of his arms, and couldn’t think of a time where he’d felt safer or more comforted.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m glad you had someone like your uncle to run to, he sounds like a really great guy.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Eddie woke up surrounded by warmth. He vaguely remembered falling asleep while Steve held him, and was surprised to find himself in the same position, as if neither of them had moved during the course of the night.

His heart began to race, and almost immediately he was filled with a deep sense of dread. Was this it? Had they finally gone too far? It was one thing to comfort each other in the throes of a panic attack, or while taking an unpleasant stroll down memory lane, but it was something else entirely to wake up with another dude’s face pressed into your neck.

He shifted, wondering what the odds were that he could disentangle himself without waking the other boy up. It didn’t seem likely but he had to–

“Morning,” Steve said, with absolutely no trace of sleepiness in his voice.

–try. Shit.

Okay, so Steve was awake—may have been for a while. No need to freak out about that or wonder how and why he was so comfortable cuddling this closely with a male friend. Nope, Eddie was not going to think about or read into that at all, because that way lay madness.

Instead he made the perfectly sane decision to wrench himself out of Steve’s grasp and scramble off the bed, intent on locking himself in the bathroom for some as-yet-to-be-determined amount of time.

But, before he could make it to that door, there was a knock on the other one.

“Hey Dinguses, just wanted to give you a heads up that you’ve got a full house downstairs so, y’know, join us when you’re ready.” Robin said loudly through the wood, her footsteps retreating down the hall quickly once Steve shouted back that he’d heard.

“I guess our day of rest is officially over.” Steve muttered, stretching as he flung the covers off, and said nothing about Eddie’s dramatic dismount from the bed.

He got up, maintaining eye contact as he pulled his shirt off, depositing it in the hamper before pulling a new one out of the drawer.

Finally Steve looked away, slipping past and into the bathroom leaving Eddie staring after him dumbstruck with his mouth hanging open wondering what the fuck was going on.

Still half in shock and questioning his reality, Eddie followed Steve down the stairs to join the rest of the party, only for the phone to start ringing as they hit the bottom step.

Steve grabbed his hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and pulled him down the hall, past the kitchen, and into a room that looked like an office where he picked up the call.

He couldn’t gather much from Steve’s side of the conversation. Partially because he said very little other than—“Okay,” “I will,” and “yes, I understand”—and partially because Steve was still holding his hand!!

Steve smiled brightly as he hung up the phone. “I meant to tell you yesterday but with everything it slipped my mind. You remember Hopper, right?”

“Yeah, um, didn’t he die in the fire at the mall?” Eddie said, struggling a little to focus on the current topic.

Steve gave him a significant look and, oh—right. He remembered now, the fire that wasn't just a fire.

“The chief was mixed up in all this Upside Down shit too, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’d been in it from the beginning. He got killed in the blast when Joyce closed the Russian gate under the mall, except… maybe he didn’t? According to Joyce, Hop's been in a goddamn Russian prison for the last 8 months. She got a ransom note a couple days ago, that’s why she’s not coming here right away. She and this guy Murray are in Alaska right now trying to get him out.”

“That’s amazing!” Eddie said, and he meant it too. They could do with a little good news for a change. He and the chief hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye but he was a decent guy, for a cop.

Steve's smile dropped suddenly.

“What is it?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, just—what if she can’t get him out? What if they hurt him in there? I know what it's like to be tortured by these guys and that was only for a day. They’ve had him for months.”

Eddie squeezed his hand. “I wish I could tell you it’ll be alright, but the truth is I just don’t know. In the past loops we could never reach them. I guess this explains why if she was off trying to rescue Hopper.”

Steve squeezed back. “She asked me not to tell anyone, especially the kids, not until he’s out of there and safe, but I thought you should know. Just in case.”

They finally joined the others who had taken over again like they fucking owned the place. It was a full house, everyone was buzzing in anticipation of Jonathan, Will, and El’s arrival. When asked about the phone call Steve only said that it was Joyce and she’d just dropped the others off at the airport. A small but necessary lie.

It felt good that things were finally happening. Obviously Eddie had been enjoying all the downtime with Steve, but there was always that lingering worry in the background, like a dark cloud hanging over their heads. Wondering what would happen next, if they would win, if he would survive. If it would stick this time or if he was doomed to keep looping back forever.

The afternoon went by in a flash with all the commotion and before long it was time for Nancy and Mike to leave for the airport to pick up team California.

The expected time of their return came and went, souring the excitement of the day.

It was shaping up to be another big family sleepover night, which was just as well. With Nancy and Mike not having returned yet, stress was at an all-time high and it was probably best that everyone stay under the same roof until they knew what was going on.

Steve kept reminding them all that it could be nothing. Flights got delayed all the time, for all kinds of reasons, it didn’t necessarily mean something bad had happened.

It would have been a solid excuse, if only any of them believed it.

Over 4 hours after Nancy and Mike had left, the phone finally rang. It was them, but it was not good news. It had taken time and a lot of persuading on Nancy’s part but she’d finally gotten someone from the airline to talk to her. The plane the others were due to come in on had left Lenora on time and landed in Indianapolis as scheduled. Jonathan, Will, and El–Jane had even checked in for the flight, but when the plane took off from California none of them were on it.

Chapter 6

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch @lawrencebshoggoth @stillfullofshit @lil-gremlin-things @mamafaithful

#steddie fanfic #time loop #pov eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #robin buckley #hbyrde's anniversary project

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postmodernbeliever · 8 months ago

Text

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Four: Best Gravy in Town

^^ guys if anyone knows a better way to make gifs than giphy or capcut let me know.. cant deal w this atrocious quality anymore

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 4,813

dedicating this one to @sp00kybas ;) <33

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You’d stayed in your fair share of motels. You once road-tripped it with a few girls from college down to the Carolinas for spring break, and the few times you went with your father to visit your family for Christmas after moving out tended to stretch into staying at the dumpy Seafairer nearby to escape the week-long chaos at nights. You were aware of their atmosphere, the lack of amenities and comfort– but this motel was not like the others. This one felt like the room you watched horror movie protagonists stalk into suspiciously, where you scream at the television screen, “Don’t go in there, that’s clearly a trap, dumbass!” But here you were, in it anyway. Fox struggled to find the restaurant that Sheriff Hale recommended on the drive to the motel, so he dropped you off apologetically and set back out to find some food for you both. The agent helped you check in and he was kind enough to carry your bag inside for you, even he made a face at the vibe of your room, which was all the more disconcerting; but he promised he wouldn’t be gone long, and so you felt alright with being alone. You were a big girl, right? You could handle it.

Everything was going smoothly. You’d hung up the few spare suits and dress pants you’d curated for your first-ever go-bag, and you laid out your toiletries neatly in the bathroom. You placed Liane’s rock on the nightstand beside the bed. The Kansas sky was a deep black you’d never seen on the East Coast, so after admiring the clearest view of the stars you’ve ever seen, you flicked on every available light and tried to soak up the yellow warmth of the offputting space. You sat around for nearly forty minutes awaiting Fox’s knock at the door. You flipped through all the television channels, getting stuck on the adult videos for a minute before snapping yourself out of curiosity; when he still didn’t show up, you decided to step into the shower and rinse the day off. You triple-checked the lock on the door and shut yourself in the dingy bathroom, trying not to think about the last time it was really cleaned. There was dirt caked in the grout of the floor, and the mirror had all sorts of suspicious water stains, but the bathtub was clean enough and you tried not to nitpick. You stripped down, popped out your contacts, and cranked the faucet to the hottest temperature it would reach. The water pressure from the showerhead was abrasive, but you didn’t mind; it beat against your back like a drum, and for the first time all day, you were comfortable. You took your time massaging shampoo into your hair, which had shrunk into a frizz ball by the end of the day, and you took deep breaths, trying to push all images from work out of your mind. You would’ve succeeded at finally winding down if it weren’t for the tapping sound you heard, incessant against what sounded like glass.

You peeked from behind the shower curtain, finding nothing in the bathroom but your soiled clothes on the toilet seat. It was then that you gazed up and found a small window, barely a foot wide, stationed above the shower. There was no curtain covering it, no blinds, and you instantly panicked. There was no way to see out of it without standing on something to elevate yourself, and you couldn’t risk balancing on things in a running shower, so you rushed to turn off the water and wrap up in a towel. Tracking wet footsteps onto the shag carpet, you shuffled the spare desk chair from your room through the doorway and lugged it into the shower, carefully stepping onto the seat. You mulled over what to do when you did discover the source of the noise: if it was some peeping Tom, you’d have to get your gun, simple as that. If it was the wind, you’d probably laugh at yourself for being so easily afraid. If it was a branch, you would promptly feel like an idiot. But as you pressed up on your tip-toes and looked out the little window, you found none of your options. Instead, you found rain. Round, heavy raindrops battered the glass in droves, so hard in fact you feared they might shatter the window. You dropped your head in slight embarrassment because you should’ve known– heat frizzes your hair, but humidity turns you into the Einstein you resembled minutes ago. You ignored the most obvious sign. You hopped off the chair and pulled it out of the shower, trying not to beat yourself up.

After you finished the bathing that was so childishly interrupted, you felt much better. You shimmied into a fresh pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt that donned your high school mascot and plopped on the creaky motel bed, running a comb through your hair. And finally, a shower and a scare later, a knock sounded on the other side of the door. You rushed to open it, only to find a drenched agent on the other side shielding a greasy brown bag beneath his suit jacket, duffle bag in hand.

“Oh, God!” you exclaimed, “Come on, come inside!”

“I wish I’d checked the weather forecast,” Fox groaned.

The man stumbled inside and you awkwardly wiped the rain from his cold shoulders, gratefully taking the paper bag from him. Your stomach was growling. Setting the food down on the desk, you rushed to tidy up after yourself. Your old clothes were still strewn across the bathroom, and you left a trail of tissues and wet towels behind.

“Do you, uh,” Fox paused, the squelching of socks in his shoes interrupting him, “Do you mind if I hop in your shower real quick?.”

Your lips turned down in a sympathetic smile. The agent was shaking. You could only imagine how cold he felt. “Of course, go ahead. Go warm up, I’ll get the food out for when you’re done.”

Fox’s eyes squinted in a kind smile and he shuffled through the room, trying to avoid dripping as much water on your carpet as he could. He locked himself in the bathroom, duffle bag and all, and when you heard the shower head creak, you went back to clearing the room of all your junk. You zoned out to the sound of the muffled water running, and every so often you’d hear a squeak of feet against the bathtub, and you’d blush. Fox Mulder is showering in my room, you thought, my work partner is naked in my motel room. You did everything to avoid the picture in your head as you ripped the brown bag open and spread it across the desk, creating makeshift plates to eat the food he worked so hard to procure. There were two double cheeseburgers, a big box of tater tots, a soup cup full of what looked like brown gravy, and about one hundred ketchup packets. You chuckled softly as you dealt the food out. You shoved the recliner by the front door over to the desk, beside the wooden chair you climbed on not long ago, so he’d have somewhere to sit. Resolving to finish packing away your things and find a place to throw your dirty clothes, you continued to not think about who was in your room, and what he was doing.

When Fox opened the bathroom door, soft curls of warm mist spilled out behind him, humidifying the corner of the room. He found you resulting to throwing your dirty outfit on the floor in a huff when you couldn’t locate a laundry basket.

“Woah,” the man chuckled, walking behind you and setting down his bag by the window across the room.

“No hamper!” You pouted.

“I wonder if I’ve got one next door. I left my clothes hanging over the shower railing, by the way, I hope that’s okay.”

You turned around to find your partner standing by the door in real clothes, regular ones, and it never crossed your mind he was a person, like you, until now. Fox had on a pair of sweatpants, likely old ones by the fraying at the knees, and a boxy blue hoodie missing its strings. It looked like it once fit him but now was too big. His hair was wet and spiky, and it fell haphazardly over his forehead– he probably wiped it with a towel before he came out, yet neglected to brush it, leaving it a mess. You wondered if he ever brushed through that hair, or if running his hands through it was enough. You also wondered about how often he looked like this; if he was this comfortable at home, or with his friends, or if you’re seeing a rare version of a man that tends to fall asleep in his dress shirts. You wished you didn’t pick him apart so often, but there was so much to see, and you were so unbelievably curious. His gaze softened at the sight of you in normal people clothes, too, and he hoped it didn’t show on his face. Since he met you he wondered if he’d get the chance to see you out of uniform at some point. He liked this you, the you with no lipstick or collars. You looked your age, with your glasses sitting just so on your bare face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, that’s fine. I’m… sorry you got stuck in the rain,” you consoled, starting to feel vulnerable with just him in the room this way.

“It’s okay, it’s just a little water. Thanks for letting me clean up.” Fox’s eyes darted to the bag behind you, and he said, “I’m starving, how about you?”

“Oh, yeah. Me too.”

You moved to sit in the desk chair, but Fox tutted, “Hey, no, take the recliner.”

“Why? This chair’s fine,”

“Just sit in the comfy one. You still look tired.”

You didn’t really know what to say. Those two sentences seemed like different points, but something in his face connected them. He wanted you to relax, and you couldn’t do that in a hard chair. So you obliged his request and settled into the mothball-scented recliner, which creaked under the pressure of you. You tucked your legs into a criss-cross position and reached for one of the foil-wrapped burgers, fingers working fast to peel it open. You sunk your teeth in hungrily, which you were. You haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday. As you took another big bite before finishing the first, you caught Fox staring at you with a goofy expression, eyes wide.

You wiped the corner of your mouth where you felt burger sauce dribbling, and you asked, “What?”

“You can eat!”

You shrunk into the chair a bit, all of a sudden feeling the extra weight in your stomach and thighs like a brand. “I haven’t had anything today.”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” the man added quickly, “I know you’re hungry. It’s nice to see you eat. Don’t hold back, please.”

You wanted to believe he wasn’t seeing you through the lens you saw yourself. With all the chaos of the past two days, you hadn’t had much time to ponder on how he perceived you. But you knew you weren’t stick-thin, and you knew you weren’t as pretty as half the women you passed in the J. Edgar Hoover building just on the way down to the basement. Fox had been nothing but kind, but almost too kind. Maybe he pitied you, or he knocked you directly into some category in his head where he stores all of the girls he could only ever see as the sweet one, the chubby one, the forever friend. You took a smaller bite of your burger as he shoved nearly half of his into his mouth at once. He had burger sauce on his lip, too, and when he looked at you, you motioned for him to wipe at it.

“Hm?”

“You’ve got a little something.”

“Where?”

“It’s- uh,” you moved to show him again, pointing at where your bottom lip curved. His eyes followed your finger, and he stared for a moment. “Right here.”

Fox wiped his lip with his thumb and then licked the residue clean off. He smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

You took another small bite of your burger and watched him flip open the box of tater tots. He eagerly uncapped the gravy and made a starving grumble. “The lady said they had the best gravy in town, y’know. Swore we had to try it.” He gingerly dipped one into the cup and popped it into his mouth, and it took mere seconds for him to smile. “Oh, you’ve gotta taste this.”

You reached your palm into the box and picked a tot, and you dipped it generously into the gravy, counting on its good review. But when you took a bite, you tasted nothing but package gravy- maybe even worse than when you’ve made it at home. You scrunched up your nose and said, “This tastes like I got it at the grocery store.”

“I know it does.”

“Why’d you act like it was good then?”

“Because,” Fox giggled, “I don’t know, I thought it was funny.”

“You’re a dork,” you blushed, swallowing the tater tot and deciding you’d have them with ketchup from now on.

It took Fox about three more bites to finish the entire burger, and he dove into the box after that, plowing through the tater tots and shitty gravy he paid good money for. He ate like a teenage boy, dripping sauce and leaving crumbs behind, wiping greasy fingers on a napkin every two bites. It was a little gross, but it was endearing in a way, too. He wasn’t trying to come off any other way than how he was naturally in front of you. You wished you had the same freedom. As you nibbled at your food, Fox noticed how he’d scarfed down half the potatoes and you hadn’t even had another.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am,” you sighed.

“Then eat! Eat more! Come on, I saw you take that big bite before,” he chuckled, “What, is it not good? I can get something else if you don’t like it.”

“No, it’s not that. It tastes fine.”

The room fell silent for a minute, and Fox stopped himself from asking why. He graduated with a degree in psychology. If he thought for a second, it would be clear to anyone why you weren’t eating. He leaned back against the desk chair and opted for a soft, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t care how you eat, or how much. You’re hungry, so you should eat the whole thing. I don’t care.”

You shifted anxiously in the recliner, twiddling with the foil wrapper. “Well, I-”

“This is about your weight, isn’t it? That’s what’s bothering you?” Fox pushed.

“I mean...”

“Put that out of your mind. You’re exactly what you should be, and if you looked any different, you wouldn’t be the girl who just got assigned to my shitty job. I like you as is.”

Truth was, he really did like you as is. A pound less wouldn’t be right. You took up just enough space. You were soft at the edges, and your suits looked pretty on you, and he couldn’t imagine you in any other form. To think you thought of yourself as undeserving made a switch flip in his chest.

“You know, nobody told me how nice you are,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well, I’m not really Miss Popularity around the office.”

Taking a bigger bite out of your burger, and making him smile, you asked, “What does that mean?”

“I find it hard to believe you got assigned to the X Files and nobody mentioned anything about me.”

“Well, they mentioned you were a bit odd , but I didn’t question it, I guess.”

Fox leaned back against the rigid chair and closed his eyes, wondering if it was worth going through it all again. He’s tried to explain himself before, but it always ends in confusion, misunderstanding, or worse. But you were going to learn about him whether it was by working alongside him or hearing gossip elsewhere; God forbid people start to lump you in, too, and misjudge your character or your beliefs simply by association. He would hate to see you get stuck in the basement of the FBI all because he’s distinguished himself as the resident loser of the institution. But what’s worse- to hear it from the source, or to find it out later than you wanted to, before you could change it? He didn’t want to take away your choice, but he also didn’t want to lose you. He just got you. Somewhere in his gut, though, there was an inkling, and it was on that that he acted.

“Well, y’know, the work I do on these unexplained cases runs pretty deep. You haven’t really had time to see the extent of the stuff I investigate. People don’t respect my work, they think it’s a waste of time and resources. That I’m some freak who runs around chasing monsters,” Fox began.

“Monsters?”

“Monsters, cryptids, spirits. Aliens. Every case file I have has some kind of element to it that reaches beyond the realms of what logic and hard science can explain. I’ve come across vampires, shapeshifters, people who possess unexplainable psychokinetic powers or seemingly religious divinities. I’ve shot men only to see them bleed green, and yet after all of these experiences, I still can’t seem to prove that it all exists. The trail goes cold or disappears completely, making me look crazy. And I know these things exist, the proof is in my work and the people whose deaths will never be reconciled, but they don’t exist on paper, and if I can’t submit it in a report then the bosses just laugh. There are so many dark forces you haven’t seen yet in my work, and I’m sure you don’t or won’t believe in them, but this is what I do, why I’m banished to the bottom floor.”

Silently, you polished off your burger. The agent sat across from you like a nervous wreck, eyes searching your face for some hint at how you took him. But all you did was wipe your mouth and hands and tuck your half-dry hair behind your ears. Once you mulled it over, you asked, “Why do you do it, then?”

Without hesitation, he said, “My sister.”

By the somberness that overtook him, you knew it was time to tread lightly. “What happened to her?”

Fox rose from the chair and tugged at his sweatshirt, walking past your chair and toward the window. You turned to lean against the back of the recliner and watched him stand before it, taking stock of how the rain smacked against the window like it wanted to take shelter inside the room.

“She was taken when I was twelve. Abducted.”

“By who?”

“Well, that’s where it gets tricky,” the man laughed, but it didn’t make you smile. There was a weight to it that sank in your stomach. “I believe- I know that it was aliens. Or people working with the aliens. I mean, I watched her get taken through our living room window. She was in her pajamas, and a blinding light burst through the house, and everything shook, and she just floated up into the air and… poof . She was gone. I’ve never been able to find her, no matter how hard I look.”

Resting your chin on the back of the chair, you believed every single word he said. You couldn’t understand why, but you just did. Maybe it was how his voice slightly shook as he confided in you, or how he kept his back to you so he wouldn’t have to see the judgment on your face. But you knew he was telling the truth, whether or not the events were fact. He believed it, so you believed him.

“I wanted to work on the X Files because I believe there’s more to what happened to my sister,” Fox continued, “I think somebody, somewhere, knows what happened to her. And I want to find out what that is. And if it really was aliens, which there is endless but intangible proof of, then who’s to say all the other highly contested beings humans have been dreaming up and swearing sightings of for thousands of years don’t also lurk in the darkest corners of our world, where they live in secret? Hiding in shadows, taking people, surviving in their own way? I need to give everyone a chance. I've had my story invalidated over and over, I can’t do that to other people. There are people out there who believe in ghosts and monsters, and who have lost family to circumstances that no one else will give the time of day, Ro. I can’t stand by and let these people suffer. I want them to be heard the way nobody hears me. I want to make people feel safe, to stop the monsters.”

If God was truly real, this would be the moment you believed He was at work- within Fox. He didn’t need to be as articulate or intelligent as he was to make you believe it. The man’s body glowed with his belief and devotion. His eyes were glistening with tears and the fear of letting you know what he stood for. You saw it in the way he shoved his hands in his pockets, how he looked at the ground, how his chest rose and fell like he’d just confessed to murder. That man was shouldering a burden beyond your comprehension, yet he gets up every day and helps other people who struggle as he does, all on top of being scrutinized by everyone in his field. You thought of a young boy who lost his sister, a young boy who needed help and spent the rest of his life ridiculed for searching for answers, and your eyes began to glisten, too. They glistened with a lot of things as you looked through him.

“You used the name.”

“Huh?”

“Ro. You called me Ro.”

Fox turned his back to the window, looking considerably more tired than he had before. “I guess I did.”

You untangled your legs and stood up, face hot, walking over to the window. Fox saw the raindrops in the reflection of the streetlights outside freckling your smooth skin, and he took a step closer to look out alongside you.

“What you do is important,” you affirmed. “You give people hope. You hold onto it even when you’re met with nothing at every turn. You’re not in the basement because you’re an outcast, you’re in the basement because they want to keep you down there where people can’t see the truth about you. You’re not somebody who takes orders, you give your own. You question their every move, don’t you?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, if you do, then so do I.”

Fox looked down at you, feeling that same fluttering warmth he felt when you set up your desk, and when you fell asleep on the plane, and when he almost crashed the car. “That’s a big commitment to make to a guy you met yesterday.”

“Well, I don’t know enough about aliens or vampires to chime in, but I believed in Santa until I was fourteen. And if you’re honest about everything you’ve seen, who am I to tell you that you didn’t see it? This is your world, Fox, I’m only just joining it,” you confessed. “And if they put me in the basement to stop you, they hired the wrong person. I’ve made a career out of chasing monsters, too.”

Your partner was at a loss for words. He’d never been in this position before, where someone met him halfway and promised to believe him. He was ready for you to tell him he was crazy and kick him out of the room; he was imagining a world where tomorrow he wakes up and you’re gone, back to Washington, begging to be reassigned to a unit where there aren’t psychopaths running the operation. But you were alone with him, comfortable, and you saw right through to his heart, just like you did the first minute you spoke to him. That was when he knew.

“Well, if I told you I have reason to believe the killer we’re out here looking for is harnessing some kind of biblical power, would you believe me then?” Fox proposed, a smile finally interrupting the stagnant look he held.

“I think I’d need a little more detail, but sure,” you nodded, “You know, it sounds like this job isn’t going to be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

A loud laugh bubbled up in your throat, and it hung in the air like a drug. You leaned into his side in a moment of urge, and he held steady for you, pushing back with pressure. When your body began to run hot, you rocked back on your heels and shuffled over to the edge of your stiff motel bed, falling back-first onto it. Fox waddled over to the recliner and pulled it to the foot of the bed, collapsing into the cushion.

“Can I ask you something?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and locked eyes with him. He had a tendency to make severe eye contact, but something about it was hard to resist. “Sure.”

“You handled a lot today. I mean, all that anxiety on the plane, the stress of starting your first case and meeting all those people. The crime scene. You just seemed so… I don’t know, overwhelmed by it all by the time we got back here. And now, after I gave you my spiel, it’s like you don’t have a care in the world. I would’ve thought you’d be completely overloaded.”

Tilting your head back to gaze up at the ceiling, you figured if he was going to be honest with you as he has, then you need to repay the gesture. Partners can’t hide things from each other.

“It’s been a lot, sure. I have issues keeping my anxieties under control. But you’re a calming presence, I guess, or at least you remind me I’m still in the real world when I feel like I’m losing my grip. And because of that, I guess I just… trust you.”

“You don't even know me,”

“You don’t really know me either, do you? Yet you just told me the purpose behind your life’s work.”

Fox grinned and slouched in the chair, throwing his feet up on the edge of your bed. “Got me there.”

“Hm,” you scrunched your nose in triumph. “Then again, maybe I shouldn’t trust you. Maybe you’re some weird, spooky guy that everyone thinks is crazy and really is. But I need a job, and I need someone to teach me how to do it, so I’ve got no choice.”

“Are you sure no one told you?” Fox gave you a suspicious glance at the mention of his very nickname.

“Told me what?”

“That they call me Spooky Mulder back in Washington. And you should know they’re gonna think you’re insane for working with me.”

“Let them,” was all you gave in response.

You couldn’t describe the expression on the man’s face, but you liked it. It suited him, to have his big eyes shining, and the apples of his cheeks dusted pink. You watched him get up and bustle over to the desk, collecting the discarded leftovers and swiping them all into the trash, Then, he pushed the recliner back over towards the door and swiped his bag.

“We’ve got work to do tomorrow,” Fox stated, “You should get some sleep.”

“God knows if I’ll fall asleep in this place,” you scoffed.

“Well, I’m right next door if you need me, Piglet.”

As he swung your front door wide, you pleaded, “Hey, can’t we go back to Ro? That was nice!”

Fox looked over his shoulder with a smile that made you thankful you were sitting down, and he silently vetoed your suggestion. “Goodnight.”

You pouted, but it just turned into a grin. “Goodnight, Spooky.”

He shut the door behind him in a hurry, so as not to flood your motel room, and you were left in a quiet space that felt starkly colder. You blamed it on all the rainy air he let in and fell back onto the mattress, hoping that by the time you woke up tomorrow, you would have shaken the gentle ache in your bones.

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