#thank fuck i have a doctors appointment soon and hopefully will be getting back on meds

[lynxalon]

have to rehome the cats :(

[kinardsevan]

colder weather (snippet)

(you can thank @typicalopposite for me needing to write this bit up based off the song. i'll get more into it later when i have more time)

-

“Baby,” Tommy coaxes, his voice lilting with sadness. 

“I know,” Evan rasps, scrubbing the back of his hand across his face and wiping away at the tears on his cheeks. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

Tommy sighs audibly, and even though Evan can’t see him, he can still imagine Tommy shaking his head at him. 

“You don’t have to be okay, Evan,” Tommy tells him, his voice raw with emotion. He lets out another audible breath, and Evan can easily imagine him looking around his hotel room, trying to find the answers that will give him the ability to solve everything. “Fuck it. I’m gonna find out if I can come home sooner.” 

“No,” he replies, his voice nasally from the tears. “It’s only a few more days. I’ll be fine, Tommy. I promise.” 

“That’s not the point, Evan,” he states, a hint of arguing in his voice. His voice is watery, and Evan doesn’t need to be there to know he’s crying now too. “I never should’ve signed up for this special deployment. Not right now.” 

Evan sniffles, pulling Tommy’s pillow tighter into his chest. 

“When’s the next doctor’s appointment,” Tommy asks again. 

Evan pulls his phone away from his ear, switches it to speaker before he closes the app and opens the app for the hospital. “Just a minute. Um…two days from now.” 

“Okay,” Tommy replies. “I’m gonna try and get a flight out tomorrow. I bring back the damn helicopter from Harbor if I have to. But I’ll be there, baby. I promise.” 

Evan chokes down a hiccup. “Okay.” 

“You want me to stay on with you until you fall asleep,” Tommy asks. 

“Please,” Evan replies, the whimper coming out of him betraying the strength he’s trying to present Tommy with. 

“Of course,” Tommy rasps, and even though he’s trying to hide it by the far-away sound of it, Evan hears him sniffle. “I love you.” 

“I know,” Evan murmurs, his voice shaking. “I love you too. I just really miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” Tommy echoes back. “Fuck Evan, I miss you so much that it never stops hurting at this point. I think about you all day, and then I go to bed and dream about you all night, and when we talk….” 

“Sometimes it hurts more,” Evan murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. “Because I’m not actually there. But soon.” 

“Soon,” Evan repeats. 

“Yes, baby. So close your eyes for me, okay? Close your eyes, and hopefully, when you open them, I’ll either be home or on my way, okay?” 

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : Hospital Visits

A/N : I guess I have to remind you that I’m not a writer and I mainly do Instagram AUS. So to the anons that left me some pretty wild things with my last “fic”, don’t read if you don’t like. 🫶🏻😘

“Dude he’s going to flip.”

Clay nods “I know but he was already on stage.”

“Why didn’t she call any of us?” Urban asks.

Neelam shrugs “She was blowing up his phone and you know I usually have it so I can record for him while he’s performing, so I called her back and that’s when she told me.”

“You do know he’s going to want to go home for this right?”

Neelam nods “I do but he’s not going to be able to. He’s booked, he can’t leave.”

At that moment Jack is walking backstage after his performance. “What’s going on?”

“Y/N called, everything is ok though so don’t worry.” Neelam tells him.

That has him worried in an instant “What happened and where’s my phone?”

“Mia got pushed at school and she broke her arm.” Clay answers.

“WHAT?” He snatches his phone from Neelam’s hand and starts calling you. “She’s not answering.”

“She told mom they were still in the waiting room, so she’s probably not getting any signal in there.” Clay reassures his brother.

“Okay, let’s go, I want to be there before Mia gets in.”

“Jack, wait, you can’t leave just like that, you have an appearance tonight.” Neelam tells him, getting a bit annoyed at him.

Jack stares at her, “You’re crazy if you think I’m making a club appearance when my daughter is laying in a hospital bed with a broken arm.”

He then turns to look at his friends and brother. “You two can stay here, I’m going to see my daughter.” And he walks away, his security team and Urban behind him.

“You and KY go to the club if you want, but you should’ve known my brother wasn’t going to sit still, not when it concerns his family.” Clay says and follows after his brother.

Just then Urban walks back in, “Thank fuck you’re staying, you host the club for him.”

Urban chuckles “Nee, that’s my goddaughter, no way in hell am I staying here.”

*********

“Mama, where’s daddy?”

“He’s working baby, I left him a message so he’ll probably call us when he’s done performing.”

She sighs “But I’m scared and I want him here.”

You smile sadly at her, “I know mama, but everything will be okay I promise you.”

She nods “Okay.”

You and your daughter were currently in the emergency room. She would be getting surgery because she broke her arm in the playground.

Well that’s putting it lightly, she actually got pushed down the slide and it resulted in a visit to the emergency room in which they told you she indeed has a broken arm and will need surgery.

“How will I eat or play with brother mama? I need my arm.”

“It’s not a forever thing Mia, you’ll heal and your arm will be back like normal.”

She groans “But that’s forever.”

You nod. “But that means lots of cuddles and movies in bed.”

She smiles, “I guess that sounds fun.”

“You’re being brave bug, I’m proud of you.”

“It hurts though.”

“I know baby, hopefully they call us soon.”

Twenty minutes later and a run to the vending machine you were getting annoyed that they haven’t called for your daughter. As much as you want to go ask when they’ll get to your daughter, you have to also be understanding and wait until there’s room, or until everyone who has an appointment gets attended first.

“Mommy, me duele.”

“I-“

“Harlow? Mia Harlow?”

You stand once you hear them call your daughters name. “Oh let’s go honey, it’s time.”

******

Two long hours later, your daughter was out of surgery and in her hospital room. She was currently sleeping, but the doctor told you she would wake up soon.

“Hi Mrs. Harlow? Little one has some visitors.” A nurse comes popping her head in and opens the door.

You’re confused because you weren’t waiting on anyone since your mother in law had your son for the evening.

“Who is-“ you don’t finish your words because the door gets pushed open and in comes your husband, your brother in law, and your compadre. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We rushed here for the princess.” Clay says

You nod “I see you also made a pit stop.” You look at the balloons and teddy bears. “She’ll love that.”

“Jack wanted to buy the entire gift shop but somehow there’s a limit on balloons per person here.” Urban jokes.

You smile and go up to your husband. “Didn’t you have to host a club tonight?”

“Like I told Neelam, I wasn’t going to go to a club when my daughter was in here.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?”

Clay scoffs “She’s acting a bit crazy as of lately, she needs to relax.”

“Wait, but how did Mia get hurt?” Urban asks, he’s currently putting on some gloves and going towards the bed and checking on Mia.

“Stop messing around.” Jack tells him.

“The school called me, told me Mia was hurt but that it wasn’t severe. When I got there Mia was crying and clutching at her arm.” You look at Jack. “They didn’t even tell me she was pushed, I asked Mia what had happened and she said a boy kept bugging her since the morning, she told him to leave her alone, she told her teacher but I guess the situation wasn’t handled correctly. The boy decided pushing her down the slide was something he had to do for tattling.”

Your husband shakes his head and goes to lay next to Mia, careful not to hurt her. “I guess moving schools or getting homeschooled should be something we talk about later.”

“Babe no, she’s a child, she should have a childhood. We can go talk to the school, but if it makes you feel better changing her schools, then we’ll do that. But that’s also something we need to talk to her about.”

He nods “Was she scared?”

“She just wanted you, but she understood that you were working.”

Your daughter starts stirring in bed waking up. “Hi baby, cómo estás? Cómo te sientes mi vida.?”

She looks around the room, then to her left and gasps “Daddy?” Then she looks to her right and smiles. “Nino Urby and Tio Clay.”

“Hi baby.”

“Hey princess.”

“Hi Mia bug.”

“How are you feeling baby?” Jack asks his daughter, brushing her hair out of her face.

“It hurts a little.” She then lifts up her arm to look at her cast. “Ohh, pretty color.”

“That is a nice purple huh?”

She nods “My favorite color daddy.”

“I know and look, we got you balloons and teddy’s.”

She smiles “Thank yous.” She then looks up at Jack who’s still laying next to her. “You gonna work daddy?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, I'm going to stay until my baby feels better. Then we’re going home and watch all your favorite movies.”

She gasps “And cuddles?”

“Oh, most definitely. We can never forget about cuddles, and we’ll even use those fluffy blankets your mama has in the closet.”

“With the lions and zebras?”

Jack nods. “Anything my princess wants.”

She smiles at that. “Nino and tio go with us too?”

“You got it.” Clay answers her.

“Only if I get the fluffiest blanket and get to cuddle with you.” Urban answers.

“But I want to cuddle with daddy and mama.”

“Fine but then I’m next in line for some Mia cuddles.”

“Deal.”

**********

TAG LIST

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[wrathfulmercy]

//to make a short little health update to yesterday (thanks for thinking of me again you guys are awesome): ultrasound was absolutely fine. Blood test was a bit unusual but nothing really serious. There’s one inflammation marker up but since I have Hashimoto disease, it’s possible that this marker just shows that (for some people with chronic infections this marker is always up a bit). They gave me the option to stay and check blood and ultrasound in the morning again or leave and get it checked at my regular doctor. I took second option cause of my cat and since the pain was somehow already a lot better. Imagine at the regular doctor the pressure test I screamed, in hospital they gave me even more pressure with the ultrasound and I had no pain at all at the appendix spot. Therefore my back and stomach now hurts like shit (stomach surely inflamed gastritis again cause of the stress yesterday) so I’m still in pain but in no comparison to last two days. I got the blood test done and have the appointment with my doctor tomorrow to speak about further investigation cause we still have no clue where it actually came from. Maybe I need an mri or something to check that further we will see. For now I will spend my next days in bed and rest cause I didn’t eat for three days cause I was so scared about the pain that I didn’t want to ruin anything. And when I get more strength I hopefully will feel better soon. Thank you for all the nice words and well wishes 💕 being in hospital wasn’t really on my bingo card this year and I hope that a fucking OP won’t be on it either. I might seem strong often but when it comes to hospitals and OPs I’m a weak winy child I shit you not that was terrifying. I hope you’re alright and can wait for me a little longer even if I hate to say that. Love you 💕

[enasallavellan]

HOLY CRAP I'M ALIVE

So after getting the third message in the past week, I thought I should probably put up and update.

TLDR of my life since May: developed gastroparesis and was 78lbs so they put in a feeding tube.

So, now that you're all cut off there's... really not that much of interest. Doctors appointments, therapy, and just trying to get my life back together.

I'm still too sick to work - I get tired so easily. If I got to the cafe and hang out with a friend for a few hours I am WIPED OUT.

Still miss my kids tons - there's not a day that I don't think of them. Hopefully soon I'll be healthy enough to at least volunteer at the school. I'll have to be careful, because due to it being an EC only school, anything can happen at any point anywhere. Just a lot of different ways my tube could get yanked out

Been writing some more - answering an ask as soon as I'm done with this. I'm trying to get back into writing but I deal with a lot of brain fog. Some days I'm fine - functioning. Some days I feel like everyone is 50ft away and I can't figure out what's being said.

But I've been having a lot of good days. I'm getting some stuff squared away and hopefully I'll get back to at least the fanfic part of my life.

All I can say is thank god for Animal Crossing. It's nice to have something that I can make really cool stuff and it feels good to have something nice to look at.

Main update is I'm now 86 pounds! Granted, I'd weigh more if the company I get my tube supplies from would stop fucking things up. The wrong formula, the wrong bags, not even sending formula once. You would think they'd care a little more about the fact that they supply THE FORMULA I NEED TO SURVIVE.

Okay, okay, I'm ending this rambling post, in ending it.

Love y'all.

-Lacy

[after-witch]

Are you adjusting well after the move?

honestly--

nope, nope, nope, not at all. I'm not doing well in a serious way.

I feel very mentally displaced because I can't unpack anything extra due to my most recent back injury, so my apartment is still just Boxes and A Handful of Essential Things right now. I had to reschedule an appointment for my back issue, so hopefully I can get in soon.

I'm finding it difficult to finish things (commissions, work, anything personal) because my back issue after pulling it on Day 3 of Living Here makes sitting at a computer flare up my back pain.

But because of my feet issues, I can't stand for long periods either. I'm just constantly battling pain, inability to do normal things, while also still trying to work & take care of myself & eat food that is vaguely healthy for me.

I just feel like I'm stuck in metaphorical syrup right now, and I'm struggling to get to a flat surface where I can get balanced again. If that makes sense.

Sorry for the rant 'non, I appreciate you asking, i just wish I was doing better.

good thing:

I really do like my apartment & the area. It's a small town that I used to visit all the time when I'd get dropped off for doctor's appointments, and my apartment is within walking distance to a downtown area with quite a bit to do. (library! movies! an old fashioned arcade! parks & biking trails I can use once I get my bike fixed up!) My neighbors are totally fine and the set-up of where my apartment is in the building gives me more privacy than I thought I'd have.

edit: also I told myself I'd try to unpack one box before I go to sleep because it's on top of a table and I can reach it and BAM, finally found my desk microphone that I use when I can't type because of elbow flare-ups, but now I can use it while standing or walking around to write!! fucking yes. thank you, random box.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

five good things

time for a follow-up! things have improved a bit since I made the last one of these. Let's see...

Placebo were absolutely awesome, they played so many of my favourites, and my friend and I got almost to the front at one side so we could see pretty well too. It was utterly sweltering, and we had to queue for an hour to get out of the car park so I didn't get home until 1.30am and was utterly wrecked for the rest of the week, but it was so very worth it. I've adored them since they first appeared on the scene, and so many of their songs are woven into my soul; it was so good to see them again.

I had my doctor's appointment yesterday, and depending on the outcome of the blood tests I have to have in a couple of weeks (which may explain some of the other things that are bothering me - or they may just be further symptoms of Age-Related Loss of Plot, so we'll find out one way or the other) I ought to be getting onto HRT fairly soon. Which will hopefully sort me out, thank fuck for that. I used to be sunny-natured and happy, but I haven't felt that way for longer than I can remember - I want that back. And then if the HRT doesn't sort me where that's concerned, we can look at other solutions. Phew.

I have a four-day weekend this week, as I did two days at job number two last week (on top of the Placebo gig, it nearly broke me), so I've spent today chilling out and attempting to be less exhausted, having not slept particularly well for days.

I've finally finished (I think!) the reincarnation AU from @piyo-13's glorious artwork, so once that's beta'd I'll get it posted. Super excited about this one!

I treated myself to a couple of Hobbit Lego sets secondhand off ebay, having been inspired by @mastererestor's Imladris adventures (I'm still eyeing the Rivendell set but I want to work up to it, not having done anything but tiny sets for about 35 years) - I have Mirkwood Elf Army, with Thranduil and Tauriel, and Attack on Lake-town with Bard, Bain and Tauriel, so I have both of the bi widower dads :D :D :D and have made a start on the Mirkwood Elf Army, it has a catapult!

We watched the Full Monty TV series over the last couple of days, and it's all cheeky larks but the underlying tale of Horse falling through the gaping cracks in our deliberately austerity-filleted so-called welfare system is utterly, tragically heartbreaking and I cried a lot. Which I probably needed...

I still haven't been out on the bike, because the battery was flat when I went out there last week and it took us a couple of days to get it charged, but it's ready now and I'm getting it MOT'd tomorrow so I can tax it and renew the insurance. So that'll be the first time I've been out since last autumn, and it's only up the road but it'll do.

I'm rereading Fellowship and really enjoying it (it's been so long since I've had the energy for reading an actual book), and I'm also listening to the Andy Serkis audiobook, which is brilliant. He does all the voices (I'm only up to Gandalf telling Frodo about the Ring, so I haven't heard most of them yet) and it's just so enjoyable. Who knows when I'll have time to listen to the whole thing through, but whatever.

Right. That's enough for now, I think. If I can only get some proper sleep I'll be sorted...

[lauryn-order]

You are not the worst for having life happen and losing an ask for a couple of days. I am the last person right now who's going to judge for Life happening it's just how it goes sometimes.

I do have some more updates apparently it is really weird to get diagnosed with MS as fast as I did cuz like it was under 3 weeks overall which is low-key really terrifying just because and not terrifying necessarily in a bad way but terrifying because like I don't know how to explain why because just that it is.

But I've ended up with optical neuritis in both eyes in under a month, and I'm hopefully going to start medication within the next month or so which should help prevent symptoms from popping up, I really hope it does because it's not fun. I'm not allowed back at work via doctor's orders until at least the end of August which is going to be a little rough for us cuz I was the main source of income for our household but we'll manage, we've got a good support network that can be a safety net if need be. And we've been real on top of talking to like the bank and stuff about "hey payments might be a little wonky for a bit cuz work isn't happening because you know it's kind of dangerous to work with heavy machinery when you can't see what the fuck you're doing." Though I definitely didn't phrase it that way while we were talking to the bank. 🤣

But even with how overwhelming and how much everything has been and the fact that I am bored out of my mind because I'm one of those people who just goes constantly and I can't do that anymore, at least not right now. I think we're going to be okay, I think it's going to be okay in the end. it'll take a while but I'll get there, I started therapy Monday which I like her all right so far it's only been one appointment but yeah I think I'll be okay.

I really hope that things start looking up for you soon as well I'm sorry that things have been so rough for you lately sending hugs and best wishes 💖

That's crazy you got it diagnosed so quickly, but I'm so glad you did and that it wasn't drawn out. I'm also glad your doctors are taking it seriously and listening to your symptoms instead of just blowing you off so it takes longer.

I'm so sorry about your eyes! That sounds awful! And I'm sorry to hear about your work/income. Trust me, I know how awful it is to not be able to work. I'm thankful you have a support system and SO proud of you for staying on top of everything. With everything you have going on, it would be so understandable to not be on the ball, but you're doing it and that's so fucking badass.

I hope your therapy goes well! It's hard to tell after just one appointment, but it's a good sign that it was a positive vibe so far so my fingers are crossed that it keeps getting even better as you develop a rapport.

I love your positive attitude and outlook and you are an absolute inspiration. Keep being you, little rockstar! You've got this.

[breezexwake]

You know sometimes you just need a void you know people inhabit but are rarely going to hear you. I need that right now. To my friends who follow this little-used blog, I’ll be okay. I just need to scream.

If you’re happening to pass this by, read at your own disgression. TW: depression, suicide, divorce

This year has been really really hard. And it’s not going to get better anytime soon.

I graduated from college. But as soon as I got in bed getting that paper, I felt like the education I got was useless. Theatre Education. In my state? What I joke I just wasted six years of my life pursuing. I’m passionate, but what school hires a teacher on passion alone. Especially one who believes in self-advocacy and true art can only be made where a student feels safe to be whoever they want to be. I was fighting a losing battle as soon as I made that a part of my cornerstone of performance.

Then my dream job closed. I was an interactive actor in a Victorian-fantasy interactive theatre park and while I was emotionally abused and gaslit by my bosses, I couldn’t imagine ever quitting. Giving children and adults a safe place to play and become the hero of their own little story was everything to me. I grew as a performer in both acting and storytelling. And then it was killed. I heard rumors of embezzlement of thousands of dollars, the place wasn’t finished, and of course leadership was overly controlling and catty. But I loved it there. My husband was free to be himself there. And I had to watch him teeter on the brink of death of weeks when he found out thanks to a leak.

Then my parents separated. And us kids are caught in the middle. My mom due to her health and what she’s done to treat it has lost her all her friends. She has no one to talk to, to vent and cry to. We get the brunt. Especially me as I drive her to her daily doctor’s appointments. And my sister who lives with her. She is constantly triggered, her mdd and ptsd destroying her mind and this separation or basically divorce is killing her. Nothings changed noticeably with my dad, cause he was never around anyway. He’s just more angry at my mom, and trying to develop a relationship with my autistic brother.

I used to wish they would communicate and get back together. Because they’re my parents, I want my family to stay together. Now I wish they’d just shut the fuck up and never talk to each other again. Dad should stop going over to my Moms. Mom needs to stop texting him. Dad needs therapy! Mom needs more frequent sessions!

Then the convention I’ve been attending yearly since high school shut down, apparently for stupid catty reason. My husband who has been attending since we got married is spiraling.

I’ve never had more frequent suicidal thoughts. Thank god I have no desire to act on them, but I know it’s bad. Too bad I don’t have insurance for therapy!

I just need something to go right. I need something that tells me this world is worth existing in that isn’t video games or anime. Something out in the world that’s worth pursuing without the floor being ripped out from under me.

I want to live…

Hopefully once I hit send, this cry into the void will make me feel a little better and seen without actually being seen.

[sevilemar]

Alright, I usually don't do this, and I have no idea what the tumblr-etiquette is for this, but WTF???

This is from @wisteria-lodge last sorting post, and holy shit, really? There are whole periods of my life, years and years, where I was beating myself up over being too lazy to get anything done, to finish anything, and sometimes to do anything at all. I suspect now that it was because a (mild?) depression doesn't mix well with having pre-diabetic energy problems, but I never got official confirmation for any of this.

Because I was too lazy to deal with my fear of doctors and make appointments. Or so I thought. This is as good as confirmation, isn't it? Which is, like, holy shit? It feels huge, even though I already knew this on some level.

Because now, after years of keto, and unburning my primary to the point of slowly getting over my social anxieties, I actually enjoy lazing around in bed all day on the weekend, watching Dimension 20 and engaging with tumblr. Because I truly have a few different options now, and sometimes I choose this. It feels so different from before, which in itself should have been a big fucking clue, I guess.

Oh man, I did not expect to have my mind blown this fine, rainy morning, but hey, what can you do? Thanks wisteria, I appreciate it. Now I can go back to frantically scribbling down ideas for characters and story stuff and world building with a little more confidence.

[I will be DMing a little solo-campaign for @wyrdnis as soon as all the wild ideas flying around and frantically pollinating each other in my mind sort themselves into something I can hopefully use, and I am so excited about it. I love this part of my process, where everything is chaos and possibility, and the more I lean into it and feed it research and think about it and write stuff down to make space for new ideas, the clearer the picture gets. It's beautiful chaos slowly coalescing into a (hopefully) coherent and exciting DnD adventure world, and I love it so much.]

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 8}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian didn’t have to go into the bar until noon, so until Viviane arrived for her first day at 11:30, it was just him and Nyx.

The sun was out, and Cassian intended to take full advantage of it. Nyx was in his stroller and Cassian was jogging down the side of the Sidra. He’d only had him for the last half hour.

After Cassian’s breakdown last night, Nesta had apparently decided to let Cassian sleep in. Before Nyx could even cry, Nesta had gotten him up, ready, and fed before she left for work that morning.

He was mortified that she’d had to see that, that he’d broken down in front of her like that. But there was so much of Rhys looking at him, all the time and he’d been holding it in for so long. And knowing that he hadn’t been able to figure out what Nyx needed was the final straw last night.

After Nesta had hugged him, he’d finally gotten the strength to pull himself together, and he pulled from her grasp. He’d noticed the dress she wore to go out then, showing just as much skin as that damn towel had, and had made an excuse about being exhausted. He’d shut himself in his room, staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep around two or three in the morning.

He wasn’t surprised she had barely wanted to see him this morning. She probably thought he was an irresponsible mess, probably figured she was better off taking care of Nyx on her own.

And maybe she was.

Nesta had some natural motherly instinct, just like Feyre and Elain had. It was an Archeron trait, Cassian had no doubt.

And although the Archeron sisters certainly hadn’t had a perfect upbringing, the three of them had always had each other.

Cassian couldn’t say the same.

His mom died young.

He’d never had a father.

Or siblings.

Or any other extended family.

He’d just had Rhysand and Azriel, and although fatherhood had come decently easy to both of them, Cassian couldn’t say the same for himself. He was the goofy, unpredictable uncle of the group, he was good in that role.

Not the ideal father figure.

Cassian picked up his speed.

Nyx giggled and threw his hands in the air. 

Regardless of his mood, he couldn’t help but smile down at him.

He loved this kid, and he knew that this kid loved him. He may not be his father, but he would do his damndest to make sure he knew how much he was loved. Every damn day.

*

Cassian had just gotten out of the shower and gotten dressed when he heard the doorbell chime.

Nyx was standing in his playpen, holding onto the padded railing when Cassian rushed to the door, throwing it open.

“Viviane, hey,” he said, opening it wide enough for her to step through. She gave him a polite smile and he shut the door behind her. “Okay, so Nyx is over there, Nesta left a note on the fridge with our cell numbers, the number for her restaurant, my bar, uh, his pediatrician-.”

Viviane laughed quietly and headed for the playpen. “I’ll call you if I need anything, but I’m sure this little dude is going to be an angel.”

She reached down and scooped him up and Nyx did nothing but beam up at her.

“He’s in good hands,” Viviane went on when she saw the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

“I know,” he smiled, although hesitantly. “Nesta will be home at four-thirty.”

“We’re going to have fun,” Viviane promised, and Nyx giggled.

Cassian took that as cue to leave and hurried out the door. It was stressful, leaving him for the first time, alone with someone they had only just met.

He found himself wondering if Rhysand or Feyre would approve.

He prayed they did.

When he got to the bar, Kallias was already there, making sure everything was ready for opening.

“You’re two minutes late, boss,” he teased.

Cassian snorted. “New nanny. Had a hard time leaving.”

Kallias raised a brow. “Hot nanny?” 

Cassian grinned as he came behind the bar. “Just your type, actually.” 

Before the conversation could deepen, Cassian seeing the intrigue in Kal’s eye, he was heading to the store room, grabbing a few bottles to keep within reaching distance when they undoubtedly got a little busy over lunch.

“I like hot nannies,” Kallias hollered. “It would be nice of you to share.”

Cassian snorted, heading back up towards the bar. He didn’t reply, shaking his head as he glanced at his friend, and he set about cutting and readying the garnishes for drinks.

With a dramatic sigh, far louder than it needed to be for Cass to hear him, Kallias began turning on the televisions around the room, two on different sports broadcasts and one on a local music channel.

Maybe he would set Kallias up with Viviane.

Even he had to admit…they’d make a pretty damn cute couple.

*

It was just before 4:30 when Nesta pushed open the front door, prepared to find the house thrown into chaos.

But, it was spotless, Nyx was sleeping, and Viviane was on the couch, reading a book. She looked up at Nesta and smiled.

“You’re home,” she whispered, even though Nyx wasn’t in the room. “He’s been down for about forty-five minutes. We played hard today. I think he’s worn out.”

Nesta blinked, carefully stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “He was good?”

“Oh, he was great,” Viviane promised, standing up and closing her book with a bookmark placed neatly between it’s pages. “Although, his diaper rash is getting pretty bad. I changed him more often to try and keep him as dry and rash-creamed as possible. But, you may want to keep an eye out. I’ve seen worse, but you still may want to get a prescription from his doctor to help clear it up.”

Nesta hadn’t even noticed that Nyx had had a rash and chastised herself. “Yes. Absolutely, I’ll make him an appointment as soon as I can.”

Viviane smiled again, stopping to grab her purse where it sat by the floor of the couch and dropped her book inside. It was well loved, Nesta could tell, and for a moment, she considered asking what the pretty, young woman was reading.

And then she remembered who she’d been here alone with that morning.

Her eyes popped open. “Oh, gods, I hope Cassian was okay this morning. He’s not…always on his best behavior.”

Viviane brows bunched towards each other, confusion on her face. “I don’t follow?”

“I hope he didn’t say anything too inappropriate,” she rushed out. “He can be a bit much in the mornings, and-.”

“Oh, no, no,” Viviane interrupted, her crystalline eyes going wide. “No, he was an absolute gentleman. On good behavior.” She then added, “And please, don’t mistake my enthusiasm for this job, Nesta, I’m not interested in your husband or anything like-.”

It was Nesta’s turn to interrupt. “Husband?! No, no, Cassian isn’t my husband. Cauldron, no we just have to live together. He’s not even my boyfriend. I can barely stand the guy.”

Viviane hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed-.”

“It’s alright,” Nesta said, and knew her cheeks were red. “I could see how it would be easy to make that assumption.”

Viviane nodded and rocked back on her heels, uncomfortably. “Right, well...I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Nesta said, trying her best to give a convincing smile.

She knew she was failing.

Convincing smiles weren’t her specialty.

But, husband? As if she would ever marry a man like Cassian. They may have had a moment where they didn’t absolutely loathe each other the night before, but that’s only because he was having a complete mental breakdown.

Nesta may be a bitch, but she wouldn’t kick a man when he’s already down.

Well, at least not in that situation. In a different set of circumstances, perhaps she would. 

Viviane let herself out and Nesta said her goodbyes, and shook her head.

Husband.

Oh, fuck no.

After a quick call to Nyx’s pediatrician, and an appointment made for the following afternoon, Nesta set out to make dinner. Nothing too crazy, just a new recipe she’d been toying with at the restaurant and she needed an unbiased opinion - one from someone whom she didn’t employ - to give her an honest opinion. She knew Cassian would be at the bar until eight-thirty or nine, but the chicken salad would be better chilled anyways.

Or she thought it was. She’d have to ask what he thought about that.

She was halfway through chopping up the roast chicken she’d spiced and marinated all day when the monitor to her left let out a lonely cry. Washing her hands, Nesta was hurrying up the stairs and found Nyx standing in his crib. He immediately reached for her, those blue eyes still drowsy with sleep, but Nesta knew he needed to be changed as soon as she got within sniffing distance. Hopefully he’d be sleepy enough that he wouldn’t fight her on the diaper change.

“What did Cassian feed you for lunch, kiddo?” She asked, scrunching her nose as she unsnapped the onesie he wore, and swapped out his diaper for a clean one.

True to Viviane’s word, Nyx had developed a splotchy, red rash on his bottom. After setting Nyx up in a swing by the door, Nesta took a few minutes to Google what a normal case of diaper rash looked like. Afterwards, she had wiped her search history and was thankful she’d gone ahead and called the pediatrician’s office, especially considering they were now closed until the following morning.

She also had to figure out a way to thank Viviane for her suggestion. Nesta almost felt like she owed the girl an apology for her initial reaction to her, based on her assumptions of Cassian. Not that she had any idea how Nesta had felt, but she still felt bad.

She may know a few things about Cassian Nazari, but she knew nothing about Viviane, not yet. Nesta should really give her the benefit of the doubt.

Even though such a thing was not her specialty.

The second they walked into the kitchen, Nyx was crying and reaching toward the fridge. Nesta put him in his high chair, letting him cry it out as she fixed him supper.

In the meantime, she dumped a pile of strawberry puffs on his tray.

He was immediately stuffing them into his mouth.

“You know, I’ve tasted those and they’re not all that great,” Nesta said, preparing him a small bowl of sweet potatoes.

Nyx looked at her and held up a star-shaped puff. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, but thank you for the offer.”

Nesta finished her salad and put the rest in the fridge for Cassian to eat once he got home. After taking a seat, and placing her salad and Nyx’s potatoes on the table, she dug in.

It was, obviously, delicious.

Nyx even seemed to be enjoying his sweet potatoes, though, as always more ended up on his high chair’s tray than in his mouth.

“You have an art for making a mess, buddy,” she said, shaking her head as she lifted another spoonful of the sweet potatoes to his mouth.

He took the bite into his mouth, and sprayed most of it back out in a raspberry.

She raised an eyebrow, setting the bowl down in front of her. “You’re just playing at this point, aren’t you?”

To say yes, in fact, he was, Nyx smacked a chubby hand into the mushed up mix of puffs and sweet potato on his tray.

“That means it’s bath time and then bed time,” she mused, wiping as much of him down as she could. She decided to go ahead and ditch his smeared onesie in the laundry room, and carried a diapered Nyx up to the bathroom.

A mostly uneventful bath later, she discovered Viviane must have been telling the truth about playing hard today. Nyx had been asleep before she’d made it through the second page of his favorite book, his pacifier falling out of his full, little lips.

She gently laid him down in the crib, and tiptoed downstairs to flip through bad reality TV until Cassian got home.

She hated how much she had thought about Cassian throughout the day. For once, it wasn’t about his body. Instead, it was about the fact that he had spent five minutes in her arms the night before, sobbing. She wasn’t sure what to think.

Cassian had a rough exterior. 

He was known for his good looks and how many women those looks attracted. Since Nesta met him five years prior, there were only a handful of things she could say about Cassian.

He was beautiful, but that much was obvious.

He knew how to make beautiful instruments, which meant he was good with his hands.

Nesta would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about just how good he was with those hands.

Lastly, Cassian was cocky as hell. He was hot. He knew he was hot. And he had to convince everyone who didn’t think he was hot that he was hot.

But, one thing that Nesta hadn’t known about Cassian until the night before?

He cared.

He really, really cared.

And he was scared.

She had been willing to put aside their differences for Nyx. They’d come to that agreement when he’d begun to depend on them. But now, she wanted to make things work…for him. He was terrified of letting Rhys down, something she understood. Every time she thought of something she may have done wrong, all she could think about was how disappointed Feyre would be in her.

Except…she knew that wasn’t true. Just like she knew that Rhys would never be disappointed in Cassian. The fact that he’d stepped up, had been willing to care for Rhys and Feyre’s only child…

She just had to make sure Cassian believed it.

Nesta was half asleep on the couch when the door unlocked and opened, Cassian walking through. He blinked once upon seeing her, clearly not having expected her to be downstairs when he got home.

“Hey,” she said, stretching. “How was your day?”

He tossed his keys on the table by the door, looking around, pointedly not looking at her. “It was good. Where’s Nyx?”

“He’s been down since seven-thirty or so, Viviane did great today,” she said, watching him as he walked into the kitchen. “I owe you an apology. You were right, she’s good.”

She heard a grunt of acknowledgment as the fridge opened. He came back into the living room, shaking up a bottled protein shake and cracking it open.

“I made a roasted chicken salad,” she said. “I put leftovers in the fridge for you.” “That’s okay,” he said, voice low. “You can take it to work with you tomorrow. Don’t want to take your food.”

Nesta blinked. “I put it in the fridge for you-.”

“I’m tired,” he said, heading toward the stairs. “Night.”

Nesta’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Cassian stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

I made you dinner. I stayed up to make sure you were alright. “Nothing. Just didn’t realize you were so insistent on being an asshole this evening.”

“An asshole?” he repeated. “I just got home, I’m tired, and now I’m an asshole?” 

Nesta just shook her head, falling back on the couch. “Nevermind. Goodnight.” 

Cassian just stood there, looking half like he wanted to go upstairs and half like he wanted to chuck the half-empty bottle at the back of her head. He’d already had a long, horrible day full of shitty, rude customers. He hadn’t even realized it was nearing Spring Break until the underage kids with shitty, fake ID’s had descended on the bar today. The amount of customers he had to turn away since they were practically children possibly outweighed the actual customers he and Kal had served.

He’d also had Nesta on his mind all day, on the pity she had to feel for him after he lost it the night before. The fact that she made him dinner was just proof of it, that he was right.

“You didn’t need to make me dinner,” he said, staring at the wall behind her head. “I can take care of myself, alright?”

Nesta’s eyes were closed, her arms crossed as she laid back on the couch. “I didn’t say that you couldn’t.”

“Just because I lost it for a minute last night, doesn’t mean that I’m helpless,” Cassian went on. “I’m just as capable of taking care of Nyx, of being a grown ass adult, as you are.”

Nesta’s eyes opened, then, and she slowly looked over to him. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, simply.

“Really?” Nesta asked. “Because you’re acting like a gods damned child right now.”

Cassian snorted as he shook his head. “I don’t have the patience for you tonight. Goodnight.”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nesta snapped.

“It’s all you think I’m good for, so I guess I may as well act like it, too,” he called out, not turning back to look at her.

The words struck her, made her feel two feet tall, especially considering how she’d begun to regard him instead. But she wasn’t able to stop the bite of her words as she snapped, “Oh, fuck you.”

Cassian didn’t say a word as he topped the stairs and headed down the hall.

She almost wished he’d slammed the door, almost wished he’d made a spectacle of being angry and shutting her out again, after what she’d thought may have been progress the night before. 

It was almost that much worse that his door shut with a soft click.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 19 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader and Spencer share the night together following her doctor’s appointment. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, degradation, daddy kink, Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), spitting kink, unprotected sex (creampie), vague mention of subdrop, aftercare included Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

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There was something about the BAU bullpen that felt like another world. The open layout and the way it could shift from frantic rushing to bored silence in seconds sometimes made me feel like I was the most normal person contained within its walls. It was a rare sight, to see me there, and for good reason. I didn’t like to be there, considering most of my time there had been spent being questioned about homicide.

But it wasn’t like that, not that morning. I’d finished my doctor’s appointment early enough that I could hopefully locate the elusive Dr. Reid before he took off for lunch. And sure enough, just as I excitedly bounced over to his desk, I heard the ever-excited, yet comforting squeak of my boyfriend as he returned with a freshly poured cup of coffee.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he practically yelled through a smile, rushing over to drop the mug on his desk. He couldn’t do it fast enough and barely made it. Once the mug was barely safe on the desk, his arms raced to wrap around me.

I giggled at the enthusiasm, considering it’d only been a couple hours since I saw him. But I was ecstatic to be with him and share the news I’d tucked away to keep safe on the way over. It was too much to bear by myself for long, and I knew he would be happy to help carry the load.

“I finished my appointment early and since I was in the neighborhood, I wanted to come see my boyfriend and give him the good news in person.” I explained. Spencer eyed me cautiously, careful not to get too far ahead of himself. I looked back with what I’d hoped was a cheeky grin, but I had a feeling it just turned into a goofy, toothy grin. Just as Spencer figured it out and his eyebrows shot up, another voice joined us.

“Mia stellina!” Rossi boomed, the bass carrying through the room like it always seemed to. It was the kind of joyful exclamation that demanded your attention, no matter how dark the circumstances surrounding you were. I knew that from personal experience.

I laughed again as he enveloped both me and Spencer in a hug that the latter only kind-of-sort-of cringed away from.

“Reid didn’t tell us that you were coming in today! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

I snorted at the implication, stepping back to buy back my breathing space. “You’re never a bother, Rossi.” And I meant it, even if he had just interrupted mine and Spencer’s very important conversation. I could table it for a moment, though. There hadn’t been many chances for me to talk to Rossi since the hospital. Although he'd visited less frequently than Derek or Hotch, he'd still come by often enough for me to miss him. He was, by far, the most unique member of the team. People always assumed it would be Penelope, but I stuck with my contention that it’s the quieter ones you have to keep an eye on. Not that Rossi didn’t love to talk, and especially when it granted him the ability to name-drop.

“This is why I like you,” he casually reminded, waving off a slightly offended Spencer on his side. “And I trust that Reid already told you about the plans for next weekend.”

As soon as I turned to look at Spencer, he immediately looked away.

Luckily, Rossi wasn’t obtuse and quickly recognized the display of guilt. “I stand corrected.”

“What plans?” I butted in before either of them could speak. Spencer grimaced at the monotone, as he was fully aware of the level of annoyed it signaled.

“I told him to extend you an invite to the next family dinner, but it seems like he’s selfishly planning on keeping you all to himself.” Rossi’s playful tone was his way of requesting I give Spencer a break, but I wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness just yet. After spending months trapped in my bed, I was always looking for an excuse to talk to anyone that wasn’t my roommate. And when it came to the team... I mean, they were like his family. It made sense I wanted their approval, right? Or was I really, honestly just seeking the approval of men like Hotch and Rossi because of my “daddy issues?” And oh, god, I didn’t want to delve into that psychology.

“How rude,” I deadpanned, instead, elbowing Spencer’s side just enough to elicit a pained exhale and an explanation.

“I was going to tell her. I was just waiting until we actually knew when it was going to happen.”

“He’s lying,” I told Rossi, earning a very adamant, denial from Spencer in the process that I brushed off. We both did. The pout that immediately followed was harder to ignore, but I could be strong.

Honestly, it was just funny to see him in this environment. When he was alone with me, he was usually the one in charge, but at work, Spencer was hardly that. It was the only chance I had to tease the ever living shit out of him with little chance of immediate consequences.

“Yeah, he’s lying,” Rossi easily deduced, waving a dismissive hand at Spencer before continuing, “But luckily, you were here. And whenever it happens, I hope that you’ll be there, too. It’s important for you to have a chance to socialize with us outside of the job.”

I smiled, finally looping my arm around Spencer’s to hopefully ease the pain caused by being ignored. Rossi, however, didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength, considering he gave another quick quip. “Hopefully you’ll bring the kid with you,” he teased as he turned away, pointing to the notably older and larger man at my side.

“How am I the kid in this scenario?” Spencer muttered under his breath, the pout still on his face, and still just as cute.

“Will do, Rossi,” I happily chirped.

“Thank you, stellina.” Rossi said with a wink, casually bringing both hands to his lips to blow each of us a kiss.

Once Rossi was fully out of earshot, Spencer sighed in resignation. He had complained before about the fact that the team had immediately felt comfortable with me, contrary to his own experience. But of course, it wasn’t fair to compare. I'd come into their lives piggybacking on their close relationship with him. Spencer didn’t see it that way, though.

“Why do you get a nickname?” he grumbled, dropping his head to the side to rest atop mine.

I didn’t let him rest there long, pushing him back away from me so that I could stand before him again. With my fingers under my chin, I flashed the brightest smile I could while dramatically emphasizing, “Because I’m a little star.”

Spencer looked down at me with a gentle adoration, his hand coming up to brush over my cheek. My face followed after him, desperate for any contact he could offer in the sterile environment. It didn’t really make much sense how touch starved I was; it wasn’t like he hadn’t touched me over the past couple months. Or even that he'd touched me any less-- if anything, it had been more.

But then again, how could I ever get enough? I was certain Spencer would call me spoiled, and in many ways, I was, but I didn’t care. If I could find a way to bottle up the way I felt when he held me, I would. Lord knows there were so many times when I'd needed it and he wasn’t there. I wouldn’t ever admit that to him, though. What would be the point?

He couldn’t always be there. Sometimes he would have to leave. 

Unaware of the dramatic monologue in my head, my boyfriend sighed. His lips pursed again while he watched my eyes soften the longer that he held my face. “You certainly are little,” he concluded. I knew he wanted to say more but feared doing so might lead the conversation down a path less suited for work. Although, what I had planned wasn’t exactly work appropriate, either.

“You know we’re definitely going, right?” I replied, peeking my tongue out from behind my lips.

With a loud groan, he took his hand back like the question had burned him. “Fine,” he conceded before quickly shifting the conversation, “but I’m more interested in what you came here to tell me. How did your appointment go?”

“It went very well. I got wonderful news,” I beamed. There were many idiosyncrasies of Dr. Spencer Reid that I absolutely adored, but one of my favorites happened to be the one where his eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead, his eyes going wide with a curious glint. Just like they did then.

“Does this news mean you’ll be staying at my place tonight?”

“It can…” As I spoke, I wrapped both of my arms around his arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear, “unless you want to take a long lunch break and get a head start.”

“Someone’s eager,” he replied with a snort that didn’t sound nearly as promising as I’d hoped.

“Can you blame me?”

Before I could sulk too hard, he poked me on the forehead and chuckled at the resistance I gave to the action. “Lunch, unfortunately, would not give me enough time for what I want to do to you,” he practically purred in a barely-there whisper against my ear. “When I get home, I want to find you on my bed with nothing on. Do you understand me, little girl?”

“Yes.” I had to stop myself from making too much noise, but a pathetic whimper slipped out before I could stop it.

“Good girl,” he whispered with his retreat, “I’ll see you then.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for the hours to pass me by. I couldn’t stay at the BAU for long, recognizing a sudden shift of energy as JJ began rushing them into the office right before I left. At first, I thought it was a case, but Spencer assured me it wasn’t. He promised me that he would be home that night, and that I didn’t need to worry.

But the hours did not fly by; they took their sweet fucking time. I didn’t even bother waiting in the bed for most of them. I honestly spent nearly 8 of them rifling through the shelves in his living room, looking for a book that was both from this century and actually in English.

After I’d rifled through his cupboards and realized that he didn’t have any food, I went to the grocery store and bought food, returned, unloaded the bags, cooked and ate dinner before I came to one simple conclusion:

Spencer Reid was a filthy goddamn liar.

That was my admittedly grumpy thought when I finally crawled into his still empty bed in his even lonelier apartment. His pillow smelled enough like him that I could hug it and pretend that I wasn’t waiting for someone who was probably not going to come back anytime soon. I thought about going home, but I decided being lonely in his bed was better than being alone in my own.

My temper tantrum  kept my face sulkily buried in his pillow, so when my phone started to ring, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t notice much of anything, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off into a world where Spencer could keep his promises because his job didn’t suck.

Of course, even in my sadness my mind drifted to other memories spent there. I’d fallen back into the loop of memories of the last time we were together. I could almost feel his breath against my thighs and his hands raking over my hips. And like it always seemed to, reality and fantasy began to blur. Spencer’s hand on my thigh felt so hot, I was burning beneath it. My whole body tensed, my back arching in the hopes of finding him.

I wasn’t sure which woke me first, the low, gentle chuckle, or the whisper in my ear.

“Maybe I should change your nickname to Aurora.”

I sat up before I even registered the words. Reacting to his voice alone, my arms were already around him and dragging him back down before he could say anything else.

“You’re home!” I shouted, groggy but happy to not be alone. If I’d looked at the clock, I would have seen the hands pointing to the early hours of the next day, but it hardly mattered anymore. All that mattered to me was that he was there, in my arms.

“I guess it’s my fault for not specifying that you should be awake when I got home.”

Answering him with a sloppy, sleepy kiss on the lips, I relished the way he couldn’t stop himself from laughing through it. “I’m awake now,” I answered with a very poorly timed yawn. It luckily didn’t dissuade him, and his hands quickly worked up over my hips and beneath the sheer negligee I’d worn to bed hours earlier. 

“What’s this? I could have sworn my instructions were to not wear anything,” he chastised with a smile.

“I don’t follow instructions. You already knew that,” I mumbled back. It wasn’t until I ran my hands through his hair that I realized that he’d already stripped down to nothing before waking me up.

How considerate.

His curls seemed so much longer than before, and the movements seemed to distract him enough to grant me some mercy. We both knew why I didn’t want to be naked yet. And it really was a ‘yet.’ I truly believed that I’d eventually be able to own my body again, but that point just seemed so far in the future. Spencer didn’t want to push it. Not that night.

“I’ll let it slide this time.” He shared the words with kisses over my jaw and neck, his hands growing hungrier by the second. They skipped straight from my hips to my chest, grabbing hold of my breasts through the thin fabric. He was almost out of breath already when he murmured, “Before we do anything, you have to promise me you’ll stop me if it hurts.”

“I know, Spencer,” I droned, but he kept going.

“I mean it. Any sign of discomfort, you have to tell me.”

“I know!” I shouted with a laugh, struggling to push him away while he continued to cling to me. Finally having managed to do it, I promptly fell back onto the pillow. As I rolled my body over to lay flat, I managed to grab hold well enough that I could pull him over top of me. “Don’t ruin the mood!”

He stopped to admire the sight before him. All I could see, though, was the way he looked at me. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me like that. He looked at me like he loved me so much he wanted to break me. I wished he would.

“How could I ruin anything when you look so fucking perfect laid out in my bed for me?” He growled, his nails dragging over the sensitive skin of my chest.

I couldn’t tell if it was his intention or some kind of Freudian slip, but I was reminded of the day I marred his chest with a necklace-shaped mark in a very similar fashion. The memory made me giggle. “I’m not so innocent.” The understatement of the century.

“Maybe not, but there are still a lot of things I’ve yet to show you.”

I was waiting for the but. I knew it was coming.

“But for now, we’re going to go slow.”

And there it was. I thought to myself how ridiculously unfair it was that having a good boyfriend meant actually being able to rely on them to take care of you. Even armed with the knowledge of my masochistic tendencies, Spencer was too scared to seriously hurt me. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t scared enough to stop him from sliding his hand up my thigh and slipping his finger into my drenched heat.

“The question is how slow?” he teased, recognizing from the rocking of my hips that I was more than prepared to have him then. “How much should I torture you, little girl?”

“Please,” was the only word I could whine at first, but I still saw too much restraint in his eyes. I knew that if I didn’t convince him now, I might be there for hours before he gave me what I wanted. It wasn’t the worst idea, but judging by his already bloodshot eyes, I figured I might as well speed things along.

“Please, daddy,” I whimpered much louder, tilting my hips up to present myself to him. I could feel his erection pressed against me, his palm pressing down as he struggled to decide if he even wanted to keep me in place. I could see that desire to destroy me return to his eye with a vengeance. He knew that I was challenging him, but then again, when did I not?

“Take care of me,” I begged. That was the way I succeeded in breaking Spencer; in turn, he would break me.

He grabbed my legs so quickly and roughly that I was almost dizzy with it. Wrapping them around his own hips, he lined himself up and began dragging the head of his cock over my sex. Low and wildly shaking, Spencer’s words were only barely audible over the sound of the blood rushing in my veins.

“Are you ready?” he asked, like my answer would ever change.

“Yes!” I shouted, nodding like my words wouldn’t be enough.

Spencer had barely waited for the confirmation. Inch by inch, he slowly stretched me open like it was the very first time he touched me. His movements were so precise, so gentle and undoubtedly tender, that I thought I might actually cry.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like when he touched me like that. I would never admit it to him, but with every passing second, I could feel the love rushing back to me. That connection that had felt strained was reinforced and reasserted.

He just felt so fucking good. And apparently, Spencer had similar thoughts in mind.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his head falling forward to knock our foreheads together. There was clearly so much effort going into not hurting me that I just found myself hoping he was still enjoying it. That train of thought made it more difficult when his next question came. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels so fucking good,” I sobbed, and it was the truth. My hips, though already growing tired thanks to the months of disuse, struggled to try and take more of him. And even when he was fully inside me, I still cried out to him. “Please, Spencer!”

“Be patient,” he said with a grunt, his hips pulling back just enough for him to slam into me with more force. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

The words made a swarm of butterflies burst through my lower half that already felt so full with him. The statement just sounded so perfectly selfish in a way I’d been dying to feel for months. I wanted him to reap the rewards he’d so obviously earned. I wanted to give them to him, really, but I just couldn’t make it too easy. It wasn’t our style.

“So it’s not about taking care of me anymore, is it?” I pouted, although my lips quickly parted again as Spencer increased his pace in response.

“Are you not satisfied, little girl?” he teased, reaching up with one hand to wrap around my hair, forcing my head back among the pillows while he started to drive into me at a reckless pace. “Do you need me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!” I yelled, my hands reaching for him, digging into his skin and bringing him closer to me. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Whether he sensed the desperation in my voice or simply couldn’t hold it back any longer, Spencer showed an uncharacteristic level of mercy on me. He barely protested at all before giving into my demands. Holding my head back in that same craned position, he laid sloppy kisses over my throat before whispering, “My little girl gets whatever she wants.”

There were no more words on my mind besides his name, which I recited over and over like a prayer. Each time he filled me, my eyes could barely stay open and my lips were nearly bruised from my constant biting. It was easy to forget that the rest of the world existed— that it was past midnight on a weeknight and everyone in the surrounding apartments would probably fucking hate us.

But Spencer didn’t seem to care either. Well, that’s a misstatement. Spencer definitely cared about my volume, but he didn’t care about other people not being able to hear it. He made that quite clear when he gripped my lower jaw in one hand and pulled it down, forcing my mouth open for him.

He had that look in his eyes again. The one that told me there were entire worlds in his mind that I hadn’t seen. Deeply hidden desires lurking just under the rippling surface. I wondered how far they went and just how much Spencer would hurt me if I could convince him to.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered through clenched teeth, his jaw tensed and eyes still burning. There was a hurricane happening behind those hazel rings, and I wanted him to let it out.

I didn’t know how to ask him to do that; to convince him to break me even while I lay before him already broken and barely keeping it together. I did the only thing I could think to do with his hand still holding my mouth open to him and presented my tongue to him.

Spencer tried to remain composed and stoic as ever, but his body betrayed in him the same way it always did. His eyes. From the second they flickered down to see what I was asking for, his pupils blew out and swallowed the comforting toffee color of his irises.

With an even darker tone, Spencer chuckled, “You’re a filthy, greedy bitch.”

It’s hard to explain how much the words filled every part of my body. The way goosebumps rippled over my skin and an undeniable, almost unbearable heat burned at my face. It only got worse when Spencer finally did as I asked, gathering the saliva in his mouth just to drop it into my own.

The second it hit my tongue, I felt so irrefutably his that I was high with it. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I swallowed between hungry gasps for air. And when it was over, I presented my tongue to him again.

I did so good, sir. Please tell me that I’m good, sir.

There were no words, but Spencer praised me in his actions. He lowered his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding against mine until our mouths were connected in the basest manner. For all the destructive power he held, he kissed me so softly. He still kissed me like he loved me.

Neither of us lasted much longer. Spencer’s hand slid from my jaw to rest on my neck, and a moan tore through my chest. Even though he applied no pressure, the casual reminder of what he could do to me was all that I needed. I lost myself in the bliss of him, my hands tangled in his hair and holding his mouth against mine even when I couldn’t kiss him anymore.

His eyes watched me, still covered in the blackness of his pupils and that animalistic desire to claim me however possible. I watched those eyes the entire time I came, wanting to both grant him the submission he deserved while also selfishly wanting to see the control I had over him, too.

Spencer kept his eyes open as he followed after me, unable to resist the calling of my body, begging him to mark, use, and fill it however he pleased. I watched his eyes roll back ever so slightly, his breath hitching as he pulsed inside me in tandem with my walls that held onto him for dear life.

I was his. I'd known that before, but how easily I’d forgotten. How quickly I’d let some stranger and some lead lay claim to me and make me believe that I could be anything but Spencer’s beautiful little girl.

When all semblance of fight left our bodies, Spencer still managed not to collapse on top of me. Apparently not even me letting him spit in my mouth was enough to convince him I was alright. I wrapped my arms around him and tugged him down on top of me, feeling the comfortable weight of him holding my chest down to more manageable breaths.

That was all there was for a while; our heavy breath breezing over sweat-covered skin as we lay tangled together under the sheets. I soaked in the feeling of slightly uncomfortable bliss, enjoying the way that we didn’t care if it wasn’t perfect because it felt close enough to us.

“I missed this,” Spencer said under his breath. It was a rare showing of selfish honesty— the first time he’d admitted to me that he had been having to hold part of himself back for months. He hadn’t been able to love me like he wanted, either. He might have been worried that I would take it the wrong way, but in reality, I had never felt so relieved to hear it.

“Me too.” I returned, trying to assuage his guilt as much as I could. I knew it wouldn’t do much, but I needed him to understand how grateful I was to share the moment with him.

Then again… They do say that laughter is the best medicine. So with a bit of a giggle, I mumbled, “Not so much the next part, but this one, yeah.”

With a small, sleepy chuckle, Spencer slurred against the pillow, “You’re such a romantic.”

“Says the asshole who doesn’t have to get up,” I reminded him. I struggled to move underneath him as he seemed to drop even more dead weight on top of me.

Like I said: Asshole.

“I wish you didn’t have to get up. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

I rolled my eyes, continuing to push at his stubborn shoulders while huffing back, “It’ll only be a few minutes, Spencer. The bathroom is right there.”

Nuzzling his face into my neck, he mumbled back, “Too long.”

“I can never tell if you’re more of an old man or a big baby.”

“I don’t know, let’s stay here and talk about it for a long time,” he answered with a laugh. I hated the fact that I laughed too, my attempts to shove him off finally ceasing. He pulled his head back, looking at me with all the love in the world.

I wasn’t ready for him to look at me like that. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of him loving me still felt so terrifying. That fear was compounded by the realization that he might see it.

“Get up, idiot,” I replied to hide that emotion. It also helped to distract me from my own thoughts, and I ended up biting on my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. It didn’t work.

“You’re so mean to me,” Spencer whined as he slowly removed himself with a small grunt.

“Only when you deserve it.”

Normally I would have eagerly gotten up myself, but I realized then just how painful it was to move. Spencer watched me with a massive, overwhelming guilt that formed before I could even think of how to prevent it. I decided it wasn’t worth it to try. It wouldn’t work. I just let him guide my legs off the bed so that I could shakily stand and shuffle off to the bathroom.

The best part about the time alone was being able to pull myself together and massage the angry scar tissue.

It won’t always be like this, I reminded myself, we can be beautiful again without it hurting.

That was the pep talk, anyway. It was the thing that got me back into the room and under the covers. Curling up by his side was like nature’s medicine. All of my muscles relaxed against him... until he turned around and ruined the perfect comfortable position.

Groaning in the least attractive manner, I pouted the entire time we readjusted. But despite my protests, Spencer looked as happy and comfortable as ever. Plopping my head back down on the pillow, I narrowed my eyes at his contemplation.

“What?”

“L’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle,” he answered, which really only led to my confused face shifting to confused and incredibly turned on again. But one word in particular sounded familiar, as reminded by Rossi earlier in the day. Or rather, the day before.

“I recognize that last word. What are you saying about me, Dr. Reid?”

“It’s the final line in Divina Commedia by Dante Alighieri.” He was doing that cryptic thing again, having apparently not learned his lesson that I would always beat the answer out of him eventually, one way or another

Through a yawn, I mumbled, “What is that, Dante’s Inferno?”

“Well, Inferno is the first section, but I’m quoting Paradiso, which is the third and final installment of the overall work.” And apparently, he was also doing that thing where he taught me really interesting new things when I definitely did not have the brain capacity to understand or retain the information. We both knew I would have to Google it later, so there was no point in lingering.

“Okay, so what does it mean?”

Spencer paused, his gaze sweeping back and forth across my face like he was searching for the proper translation. Like the real answer he sought was something that could only be seen by his eyes. Eventually, he settled on a simpler and equally romantic response.

“It’s the way he describes the piece of Heaven he saw.”

But that still wasn’t good enough for my constantly curious self. It might have been the brat in me, but it was almost like he was avoiding the direct translation. Like I wasn’t smart enough to come to my own conclusion about it. “I’m going to keep asking until you answer me,” I droned, more reminiscent of a nagging two year old rather than a twenty year old. 

“Spoiled,” he remarked, lightly tapping on my nose before he sighed. “It means ‘the love which moves the sun and the other stars.’”

I thought about the words for a minute. Or rather, I thought about trying to think about the words. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and blissed-out brain got the better of me, and the beautiful words whispered, in English this time, went in one ear and out the other. Spencer was giving me a smug little smile, like he could see my cluelessness written on my face.

“I like the Heaven explanation better,” I sneered, trying not to let him win this one just yet. But it was obvious from the way his smile grew that he’d already won. 

“Yeah, I knew you would. You just had to keep asking.”

Snaking my hand around his waist, I pulled myself flush against him. “I’m a very curious kitten, Dr. Reid,” I purred, gently rubbing our noses together in a very successful attempt to distract him from gloating. 

And in a brief flash of self-awareness, I realized how utterly normal I felt. It wasn’t just average; unlike the domestic moments we’d shared over the recovery, this one felt so... natural. There was nothing foreign about his hand on the small of my back, and the rhythm his fingertips tapped felt like a lullaby I’d heard a million times before.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Spencer whispered, breaking me from the brief aside and back into the present. 

“I’m pretty sure you’d have me in any form.” I didn’t laugh yet, but once Spencer joined in, there was no hope left for me.

“Yeah, probably, but you don’t have to point it out!” he whined.

I watched as the color started to form on his face, first starting with his ears and nose before spreading out across his cheeks. That blush, still visible in the dim light, was still one of the most beautiful things in the world to me. I never tired of it. Paired with his embarrassed giggles mingled with my own, I felt the undeniable and overwhelming emotion that could only be described as ‘love.’

When the laughter finally ceased, it was just the two of us in silence again, although now we were so close together that we might as well have been one person. It felt that way sometimes. Not like one might think— it was not the supposedly romantic but strangely depressing idea that we aren’t whole without another. It was more like knowing that I would never be more myself than I was when I was in his arms.

Comfortable. Safe. At home.

“Spencer?” I spoke before he could fully close his eyes that he somehow kept open for me. 

“What’s up?”

“Thank you.”

That seemed to wake him up, which was not at all my intention. In fact, I'd hoped he wouldn’t respond at all and let the words stand. But he must have heard the hidden message behind it, the fear that all good things must come to an end.

“For what?” he asked. His hand on my back started to make soothing strokes under the negligee, reasserting his presence with me.

I considered answering. I thought about word vomiting all of my fears of inadequacy and broken promises and a future of settling for me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t ruin the moment with such stupid things. The feelings would pass with enough time, right? I didn’t want to bother him with it. I didn’t even know if the problems were problems at all.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m happy and I love you,” I said, instead.

Spencer still saw that I was hiding something, but we were both too tired to push it. We could always talk about it in the morning if we remembered, which I was hoping we wouldn’t.

“I wish I could help you understand how much I love you,” he murmured, removing his hand from my back to trace my jaw. “I can tell you that I want to marry you and raise a family with you but… I don’t think it’s enough.

My stomach immediately dropped. It fell so hard that I actually flinched from his hand, my face twisting into an even more obvious grimace. If my hope was for Spencer to sleep, I’d made a grave error. He immediately shot up onto his arm, cupping my face and inspecting my eyes for any persisting sign of pain.

“What’s wrong?” he pressed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between my stomach and eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing is wrong!” I squeaked, my hands flying to his shoulders to pull him back down. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Our eyes locked in a challenge; a silent back and forth of wills and pleas. And eventually, Spencer started to lower back on the pillow. He’d let me win this one.

“It is past your bedtime,” he said with only a whisper of defeat in his voice.

“It’s past every normal human being’s bedtime, Spencer,” I said before turning away from him in the hope that it would make that concern in his eyes hurt less. It didn’t.

“And you think I’m the old man,” he joked back, snuggling up behind me and sighing into my neck as his hand rested on my hip. “Goodnight, little girl.”

So soon after he spoke, he was already asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so simple for me. Even in his sleep, Spencer’s hands found their way to my stomach. His fingers spread over the expanse of skin like the scars didn’t exist at all. Like it was just as perfect a placement for him to hold onto me as it ever was before. Spencer had a tendency to hold me with so much love that I no longer felt capable of containing it.

It was... suffocating. It took my mind back to images of his blood soaked hands in much of the same position. His hands felt foreign again, and I felt even further away. Like Spencer wasn’t actually there, and neither was I. All that he was holding onto was memory instead of me.

He said he loved me, but he didn’t say why. The only answers my mind would consider were things that had already died months ago. Things that his hands and kisses couldn't fix.

I couldn’t ask him why. I was too afraid of the answer.

 —————————————————

| Part 20 |

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 21

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Hi,” she greets him as he walks in the door, “I have something for you.”

She’s perched in the armchair, a smile that’s coy and playful curling the corners of her mouth. He gives her a curious smirk as he slips off his shoes and overcoat.

“Okay, like a gift?” he asks, crossing the room to plant a kiss on her lips, stealing another to enjoy the warm feeling of her mouth against his, which is chilled from the wintery air outside.

She shakes her head as he goes into the bedroom, changing into sweats and a T-shirt.

“You’re going to have to find it,” she calls from the other room, and he smiles to himself.

This is his favorite version of her; playful and flirtatious, quick to smile and laugh. He loves all aspects of her personality, but the rarity of this one makes it feel special. She almost never acts this way in front of anyone else, even her family; it feels like it’s just for him. He moves to stand at the threshold of the living room, leaning against the wall.

“Are you going to give me a hint?” he asks, and she considers the question with a thinking man pose.

“Well, I will tell you that right now you are very, very, cold,” she finally says.

His eyebrows lift in understanding and he walks back into the bedroom.

“Colder!” she calls, and he moves to the kitchen.

“Still cold.”

He walks to her desk.

“Mmm, slightly warmer.”

Next he steps close to the fireplace.

“A little warmer.”

He turns to look at her and narrows his eyes. He takes a step towards her.

“Oh, warmer.”

He stands directly in front of her chair.

“Getting hot,” she says with a playful lilt to her voice.

He drops to his knees between her legs.

“Very, very hot.”

He slips his fingers into the waistband of her pants.

“On fire,” She says with a smile.

He moves to pull her pants down and the tips of his fingers meet with something foreign near the top of her thigh. He quirks his head quizzically, fitting his whole hand into her pant leg and pulling out two long strips of cardstock. Airline tickets.

“How do you feel about a California Christmas?” she asks hopefully, and he looks at the tickets to see that the destination is San Diego, December 22nd.

He knew that she and her mother had been talking about flying out to see Bill for the holiday, but he’d assumed that he’d be left at home.

“What about Priscilla?” he asks, both touched that she wants to include him in her family’s celebration and nervous about meeting her older brother, who he understands will hate him by default.

“We can ask the Gunmen to look after her,” she offers. “Unless you don’t want to come with me?”

He can tell by her tone that it’s not meant to be a way for him to opt out, but a test of his willingness to go. She clearly wants him to.

“Of course I want to go with you,” he replies, moving close and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I will admit to being a little worried about meeting your brother, and in his home, on his turf.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry too much about Bill. Missy and Charlie are going, and Mom of course, and they love you. I know Tara will too. So even if he does pull the big brother card and give you a hard time, we have strength in numbers.”

“Is Byers going?” he asks hopefully, and she shakes her head. “Missy only just barely told Mom about him. It’s too soon for them.”

“But not for us?” he asks with the smile he reserves for the times when she alludes to the seriousness of their commitment.

She shakes her head slowly. “Not for us,” she says.

———

“Oh my god, I’m going to lose my mind, Mulder.”

She’s pacing around the apartment, putting things into different piles and open suitcases, her level of stress palpable in the air.

“Honey, stop for a second,” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and dipping his head to meet her eye. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs, waiting as she does so. “We don’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours,” he says, keeping his own tone calm and level to counter hers, “we have plenty of time to pack.”

“It’s not just the packing, Mulder, this entire week was a nightmare. Everything I was hoping to accomplish before this trip was waylaid in one way or another; I missed my doctor’s appointment because of an emergency autopsy and forgot to reschedule it before they closed on Friday, Trudy was out sick half the week so I had to absorb her workload, the dry cleaners lost the dress I was going to bring for Christmas Eve mass, Priscilla is out of food AND litter, and I can’t find my earplugs for the plane,” she rattles off.

He pulls her into a hug, feeling her relax a bit with the contact.

“I will go pick up cat food, litter and earplugs,” he says, pulling away to look at her again, “and I’ll remind you to call the doctor tomorrow and reschedule. Wear that blue dress with the little flowers on it to mass, it looks beautiful on you. And try to breathe,” he finishes, giving her a sympathetic smile.

She forces a small smile onto her mouth and takes another deep breath. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

He pours her a big glass of wine before bundling himself up against the cold and venturing out into the December night.

———

She glances at Mulder intermittently, watching for signs of overwhelm. She knows that coming from a small, dysfunctional family means that he’s not accustomed to the type of gathering they are currently entrenched in; the entire Scully clan plus Tara’s parents and brother, and several members of their church. He seems to be faring okay, sipping a beer while talking sports with Charlie and a few others.

As nervous as he’d been about meeting Bill, he was well prepared. Scully directed him to speak highly of the Chargers while eviscerating the Patriots, and to go easy on the PDA. While they aren’t exactly best friends, Bill doesn’t seem to actively dislike him, and they are calling that a win.

She’d fully expected them to be set up in separate rooms given Bill’s traditional family values, but the number of people who needed to be housed made that impractical. They ended up relegated to the guest room and a single twin bed, though the enormous stack of pillows and blankets arranged on it suggest that one of them is expected to make a bed on the floor. They don’t do that, of course, instead sleeping nested together like spoons, Mulder continuously making half-hearted attempts at getting frisky while she laughs and slaps his hand away.

They are dressed for midnight mass on Christmas Eve, Scully in her flowered blue dress and Mulder in one of his typical weekday suits. They sit in the pew between Mom and Charlie, hands clasped chastely on the bench between them, suppressing giggles as he leans over to warn her that he is at risk of bursting into flame. He traces patterns on her palm with his index finger and she realizes at some point that they are letters. She concentrates, trying to understand his message, expecting it to be ‘I love you’ or something similarly sweet. When she puts together that he is spelling out ‘sex tonight?’ she looks over at him with wide eyes and then purses her lips together tightly to keep from laughing, doing her best to glare at him.

They file sleepily through the door at nearly 2am, quietly going off into their respective bedrooms and pull-out couches, hoping to get some rest before Christmas festivities in the morning. Scully quickly brushes her teeth and washes her face before darting to the bedroom, wriggling under the covers and pressing her back against Mulder, her cold toes brushing against his shins.

“Hm, you’re cold,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Thanks for going to mass,” she whispers back, “it meant a lot to my mom to have all of us there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he answers, his breath hot on her neck, “it’s nice to feel like a part of a real family.”

She threads her fingers through his where they rest on her belly, squeezing his hand. She tries to go to sleep, but his chest rising and falling against her back and the heat of his groin tucked against her backside are distracting. She wiggles a little bit against him.

“Hmmm,” he responds, thrusting his hips against her gently.

She swore that she was not going to have sex at her brother’s house. She knows that they can go without for the week they are here. But as she feels him grow hard against her ass, the throbbing between her legs suggests otherwise. No doubt it’s exacerbated by the forbidden nature of the situation; the door doesn’t have a lock and the house is quiet and still, though packed with enough ears that the risk of being heard is high. When his lips press against the back of her neck, she knows she’s done for.

She reaches behind herself to slip her hand into his pajama pants, stroking him firmly as he breathes hard into her ear, suppressing the groan that she knows would normally result from her touch. He pushes his pants down to his knees with one hand, then hurriedly brings hers down as well. She emits a small gasp when he slips inside her, simultaneously pushing his hand under her pajama top to squeeze her breast.

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers harshly in her ear, and she wants to make a joke about not taking the lord’s name in vain on his birthday but when he starts pumping in and out deliciously slowly, the thought slips from her mind.

If he moves too quickly the bed squeaks, so he keeps a languid pace as he pinches her nipples and kisses her neck, then slides his hand down to play with her clit in the tight space between her legs, which are still pinned together by the pajama pants around her knees. It feels incredible, and yet the necessary slowness and need to stay quiet make her wonder if she will be able to come. As if intuiting this, Mulder withdraws momentarily, sitting up and freeing her top leg from her pants, then lies back down and hitches her ankle behind his knee; her favorite position. He pulls the blanket back over them for warmth and modesty, though if anyone were to walk in now they’d have no chance of plausible deniability. With more room to move, he resumes his slow strokes and pairs them with hard and fast circles around her clit, murmuring little affirmations into her ear so softly she can barely hear them, much less anyone else. The vibration of his voice, the slip of his cock, the rough brush of his fingers, all come together in crescendo as she stiffens in his arms, turning to muffle her cries against his mouth as she comes. Now able to focus on his own release, he continues to pump slowly, pressing his face into her neck and letting out a low growl as she feels him throbbing inside her.

He slips quietly out of the bed, retrieving one of his dirty T shirts and swiping it between her legs before he pulls her pajama pants back into place. They get comfortable again, the sexual tension that had prevented them from relaxing before now dissipated.

He kisses her cheek softly, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Scully,” into her ear just before she drifts off to sleep.

In the morning, they sit around the lit tree, drinking coffee and eating pastries as they shake off sleep.

“Is your house haunted, Bill?” Charlie asks, and Bill gives him a doubtful look. “I swear I heard some weird noises, like creaking and whispering, I felt like I was in a horror movie,” Charlie defends.

Scully hides her face behind her coffee cup, glancing over to see Missy giving her a pointed look.

“I’m sure it was just the Christmas spirit,” Maggie says jovially. “Who wants to open presents?!”

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: four

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.3k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, blood, gunshot wound, kidnapping, implied drug use (marijuana)

a/n: posting an hour early :)

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Simple words, and predictable ones, but his heart still hurts. He knew this, he knew it was coming, he knew what you would say, he prepared himself for it, so why does it feel like his world is crashing down? He’s leaving you, but he guesses you’re leaving him first. The thought brings him comfort. He didn’t want to involve you in this, as much as it hurts watching you walk away. He should be thankful that you’re breaking his heart and not the other way around. He should be thankful that you’ll hopefully hold this against him for the rest of his life. He should be thankful that you will never know the cold steel of a gun, the glint of an attacker’s knife. 

You’re long gone by now, probably tucked into bed. He’s right where you left him, although he is no longer staring at the spot where you were standing. Now, he’s watching the moonlight on the water. The world looks cast in melancholy blue; a beautiful setting for his final night and a tearful goodbye.

He is thankful for this last chance to see you; to memorize your features and commit them all to memory. He is thankful for the tears on his face, as he will not be allowed to show them in the future. He is thankful for all the emotions that he is currently feeling; he savors them, knowing that when he wakes up tomorrow, they will be long gone; suppressed forever. 

---

You’re up and running before you even have the chance to fully grasp the situation at hand. There’s blood, so much blood; Miwa’s calling to you, but you can’t hear her. There’s only the pounding of your heart in your ears and the four years worth of schooling you’ve received; racking your brain for any and all useful information. 

“I need all the medical supplies you have; a first aid kit, bandages, forceps, scissors.” You pray that Miwa is listening, that your voice is projecting. “I know we probably can’t take him to the hospital, but if you have a doctor you normally see for stuff like this, call them.”

You press your hands to the wound. From what you can tell, it’s a bullet wound towards the bottom left of Kageyama’s chest. His heart is still beating and his breathing is slow, but steady, and you allow yourself a moment to be thankful that his lung hasn't collapsed. You focus on your next steps: stopping the bleeding, fully assessing the severity of the wound, and stabilizing Kageyama somewhere that isn’t the foyer’s floor. 

Miwa drops down next to you with what you hope are sterile rags. “I called our doctor, she’ll be here soon.” She unwraps the plastic covering and hands you the rags, and you press them to Kageyama’s chest. “If we can just stop the bleeding, he’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. 

---

Kageyama Tobio is used to being shot at, but the bullets rarely meet their mark. Unfortunately, due to his own stupidity, this one does. 

He curses as he runs to his car and jams the keys into the ignition. The fleeting thought that the blood will be a pain to get out of the seats crosses his mind, but he shakes his head and it’s gone. His only goal now is to get back to the penthouse. Miwa will know what to do. 

When he stumbles in, feeling faint, his exhausted brain short-circuits at the sight of you. He falls to the floor as his vision blurs, feeling slightly thankful that if he dies tonight, at least the last thing he saw was you.

---

He knows he’s dreaming, that he’s drifting in and out of consciousness. He dreams of his childhood spent by your side, he dreams of your final goodbye. Even when he thinks he’s awake, he knows he must be dreaming, because you’re here, holding his hand and sitting by his side. He tries to reach out, to brush the tears off of your cheeks, but he can’t. He feels as if he’s failed you again.

---

The doctor is nice, a woman in her late twenties named Kiyoko. She performs her duties clinically, allowing you to help where you can and reassuring Miwa that everything will be fine. When the bullet is finally removed and Kageyama is stitched up, you collapse into a chair next to his bed.

You watch him carefully as Miwa flits around the penthouse, cleaning up and moving around Kageyama’s appointments for the next few weeks to allow him time to recover. You hold his hand in your own and rest your head on the side of the bed.

You were terrified tonight, you’ll admit it. You aren’t quite sure how you kept your cool and focused on the task at hand. You’re thankful that he is still breathing, that his heart is still beating. 

If you hadn’t walked away, would this be the norm for you? Would you be accustomed to Kageyama coming home bleeding and half-dead? You don’t know how you would cope in a situation like that, unsure if Kageyama would come home in one piece or even come home at all. The thought terrifies you; knowing that for these past four years, there were times where he was injured and you had no clue, and that he will most likely continue to get hurt in the future.

Is it better or worse to be here for it, to be aware? Is it better to know and be there for him while enduring the pain of it all, or is it better to be blissfully unaware, back to your normal life where you know his job is a risk, but you aren’t involved?

---

The man is thrilled at all of the information contained in a tiny computer file. Better than he ever could have imagined; giving him the ability to hurt his enemy is the worst possible way - through the people he cares about. 

It’s a low blow, even in this world, but what can he do? He’s run out of options. His enemy’s reign over Tokyo has encroached too far into his own territory, and has been occurring for far too long. 

You’re an easy target; far better than attempting anything with his sister. She has the knowledge and power of the underworld to wield against him, but you, you, are perfect. No skills with a weapon, no comprehension of how things work in this world. 

An innocent, perfect girl for him to corrupt. 

He grins at the thought. 

---

When Kageyama’s eyes finally open in the early hours of the morning, you almost burst into tears. You knew that he was physically fine; the wound would hurt, but was stitched and bandaged and fixed. You didn’t know how it would take a toll on the rest of his body. Some people suffer traumatic injuries and don’t wake up for days, months, years, ever. 

You grin as Kageyama slowly opens his eyes, assessing the room around him. 

“Y/n?” His voice is weak, but he’s awake. Alive. 

“Yeah?” You’re still holding his hand, leaning on your arm as you reach for his forehead to check his body temperature.

“You’re here.”

He’s clearly still a little out of it, and you can tell that his brain is trying to piece together the picture of you before him. You laugh a little before you answer, “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

His face is blank and he’s completely impassive when he says, “Not here.”

Miwa walks in to you laughing at Kageyama, who clearly does not understand why you’re laughing at him. She rushes over to him when she sees that he’s awake, gently hugging him.

“Tobio, thank god you’re alright. I was so fucking worried about you, you little shit.” She slaps his shoulder lightly, causing him to wince. 

You step away to give them some privacy, heading out to get some water and pain meds from the kitchen, but as you cross the threshold of the bedroom, Kageyama speaks up. “Y/n, are you leaving?”

The ache in his voice is obvious, and it sends a pang to your heart. “I’m just going to get some water and medication for you.”

He’s smiling a little when he turns back to Miwa. “Okay, good.”

---

The next few weeks are fine, generally speaking. You spend the majority of your time at Kageyama’s penthouse, watching over his recovery and hanging out with Miwa. Hana becomes a bit suspicious when she notices you’re away from home more than you’re there, but you simply say that you met an old friend at the club that night and you’ve been hanging out with them. It’s not necessarily a lie, and she buys it regardless; she’s so busy with Ushijima and school that you doubt she really notices how much you’re missing anyway. 

Most days, Miwa or Kageyama’s driver picks you up from the university in the afternoon, and you spend the rest of your evening in the penthouse. Sometimes, you sit by Kageyama’s bed and do homework while he rests, which most of the time ends up being a fight to get him to stay in bed while he insists he’s well enough to work. Other days, mostly when Kageyama is too tired to put up much of a fight, you hang out with Miwa, watching movies or cooking dinner together. 

It surprises you, just how easily you fit into their lives. Miwa says so as well, telling you that it has to be fate; there’s no way that someone could adjust to their lifestyle as quickly and as well as you do. You spend a lot of time thinking; you don’t mind being with them, in fact, you cherish your time at the penthouse. Kageyama’s job doesn’t phase you as much anymore. You don’t think about it when you spend time with him or Miwa, instead, you think about how appreciative you are for their roles in your life. 

Most recently, you’ve started helping Miwa with a task she deems “Mission: Impossible”. Apparently, Kageyama is disastrous when it comes to organization, so she’s taking the opportunity of him being bedridden to organize his office and the rest of the house. You don’t bat an eye when you and Miwa categorize what she refers to as the “weapons closet” or even when you come across files of all the hits that Kageyama has ever put out. The only thing that even makes you pause is when you come across Kageyama’s secret stash of marijuana.

“Really?” You hold the plastic bag up in one hand, your other hand on your hip. “Blunts?”

Kageyama just groans, sitting up. “If you and Miwa weren’t going through all my shit, you never would’ve found it.”

“Your shit is a mess! When was the last time you organized anything in this house?”

Kageyama brings his hand up, scratching the back of his hand. “Uh, never?”

“I can’t believe you.” You collapse onto the chair next to his bed, tossing the bag to him. “Now where’s the lighter?”

---

When Kageyama is finally cleared by Kiyoko to go back to work, you think that you won’t be seeing him and Miwa as often. You assume that they’ll be busy with whatever it is they do normally, so it comes as a surprise when you see Kageyama waiting for you after your last class. 

He’s leaning on a black McLaren Artura, turned away from you as he talks on the phone. You stop on the steps of your lab building, pausing to look at him while he’s not paying attention. After seeing him in sweats and t-shirts with messy hair for weeks while he recovered, it shocks you to see him in formal attire again. The late fall chill embraces you as you survey the black jeans and dark jacket, the wind-whipped hair and gold chain peeking out from beneath his collar. It’s times like these when your breath fully leaves you at how attractive Kageyama is. He’s receiving many stares, whether it’s from the boys checking out his car or the girls checking out him. He remains oblivious as always, talking pointedly into the phone until he spots you. 

He hangs up and opens the Artura’s door for you when you approach. You can feel the whispers surrounding you, but you ignore them in favor of sticking your chilling fingers in front of the car’s heat vent. Kageyama starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.

“I’m surprised to see you today. I thought you would’ve been busy on your first day back.”

He shrugs, giving a noncommittal hum. “It was mostly boring shit, meetings and such. I was completely over it by noon, so Miwa took over the last few for me.”

“You’re done already?” It’s only four in the afternoon, and you know he normally works much, much later than that.

“Done for now. I’ll go into the club later tonight to check on a few things, but that’s at least interesting.”

“Hm.” Looking out the window, you notice that you’re not heading towards the penthouse. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you out.”

You choke on air; as someone with Kageyama’s career, this could mean one of two things. “O-on a date?”

“Yeah,” he glances at you, “what else would that mean?”

“You don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

“Damn, y/n, I’m not going to kill you.” The wry smile on his face warns you of his upcoming words. “That would get blood on my seats.”

“Haha.” You roll your eyes and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “But really, you’re taking me out on a date? You didn’t even ask.”

“Well it’s more of a ‘thank you for nursing me back from the dead and helping Miwa’ date, but it can also be a real date, if you want that.”

The slight nervousness in his voice makes you grin. Only Kageyama could shoot someone in cold blood and be afraid to ask a girl out. “Okay.”

You watch as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sly smile on his face. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

taglist: @lilith412426​ @itoshibaby​ @wallywaffle​ 

[debbiechanclub]

Know You Better Now (*new* BTOOT sequel), Part 1

The title is the same, but I assure you the content is all shiny and new! The revamped BTOOT sequel is here!

Thank you to everyone for your patience on this. I just lost interest/direction for the original sequel after Ethan all but disappeared off Dynamite, but I'm honestly kind of glad I did because I like this new version so. Much. More. And we have Kenny's facial hair to thank for it.

So enough talking - enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

Know You Better Now

Synopsis: Nearly nine months have passed since Alex's freak shoulder injury, and she's still not cleared for action. But while Kenny has been a source of strength for her throughout her recovery, all her other relationships are in shambles - and she's finding it harder and harder to reconcile the Kenny she knows behind closed doors with his persona as the "Belt Collector."

Part: 1/?

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x TBD 👀

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Language, ANGST

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @galacticstat @hotyeehawman @hdbngsprnva @heelchampbucks @kingswitchblade @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-babymox-exe @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @brokenglassslippers @rocca09 @meteora-fc @kawaiikels @adriii-omega @thatgirlforever5 @sugar-melts-mo-fo

May 30, 2021 AEW Double or Nothing

Surgery with six to twelve months’ recovery time. That was the prognosis Alex had received when she’d dislocated her shoulder in September. Now, nearly nine months later, everything had changed.

“Well, there’s good news and there’s not-as-good news,” Doc Sampson started. He’d just completed yet another check-up exam on her shoulder, and Alex could tell he was trying to keep up morale. But she already knew what he was going say. “The good news is you’ve gotten the full range of mobility back. The bad news is the strength isn’t quite there yet.”

She scoffed lightly to herself. It was exactly as she suspected. “So it’s no news, in other words,” she quipped.

“At least it’s not bad news?” Kenny hopefully offered.

Doc smiled sympathetically. “Just keep at it. Resistance bands, weights; you know the drill.”

Alex’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah, I do,” she returned. It seemed like weight training and physical therapy was all she did anymore.

“Just a few more weeks,” Doc said; but in medical-speak, time was relative. Alex knew all too well that weeks could easily mean months. “Good luck tonight, Kenny,” he added, and he went out the door.

Alex’s head fell back and she groaned in frustration. Kenny wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured with a kiss on the side of her head.

“It’s been almost nine months,” she muttered.

“I know. But you don’t want to rush your recovery, especially for something like a shoulder injury.”

She frowned. “At this rate Anna will be back from her shoulder injury before I am.”

“What?” Kenny laughed and hugged her tighter. “No, she won’t. I give it maybe another month and you’ll be back better than you were before. Which reminds me, you should probably have some new gear made. I bet your old stuff is too big on you now.”

The sound of her laugh was muffled by his shoulder. “Because you’ve been kicking my ass every week for the last six months,” she said. If there was a silver lining to her injury, it was that she’d gotten into the best shape of her life what with all the training she’d been doing—and it was all thanks to Kenny. Truth be told, Alex didn’t know what she would have done without him over the last nine months. He’d moved her into his house so she wouldn’t have to struggle through the weeks after surgery alone; he’d set her up with his doctors; he’d driven her to physical therapy appointments and trained with her every single week. He’d been there for her in ways she couldn’t even express, and she’d fallen even more in love with him for it.

It made it that much more difficult for her to admit that the Kenny she knew in private was a far cry from the one who called himself the “Belt Collector.”

“I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could handle it,” he returned with a peck on her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna recognize you out there tonight.”

Alex momentarily tensed in his arms, but she didn’t relax quick enough. Kenny felt it—and he knew exactly what it was about.

“You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?”

She looked up at him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she admitted.

Kenny’s face fell. “Alex… we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” she breathed. She stepped back from him, suddenly anxious. They had talked about it, at length. It was a big statement for her to accompany him for his match tonight, because she hadn’t been seen since her injury. In fact, she’d all but gone off-grid. She hadn’t been on television; she’d barely posted on social media; she hadn’t responded to any questions for comment about her recovery or her thoughts on Kenny’s pursuits. She’d just wanted to fly under the radar until she was back in that ring for good.

But then, two-and-a-half weeks ago, the match between PAC and Orange Cassidy for a shot at Kenny’s AEW World Championship had gone to a no contest. As a result, it was decided that Kenny would defend the title in a triple threat match against them both at Double or Nothing—tonight. And as soon as the match was booked, Alex knew—she knew—that Kenny would find a way to pull her into it.

But she didn’t know if she could—or should—go out there with him. Not with the way things currently were between her and the people she’d thought were her best friends.

Kenny reached out and took her hands in his, and she looked back up at him from the floor. His blue eyes were concerned. But she could tell he was frustrated.

“I want you out there with me, baby. And yeah… I’d be lying if I said Orange wasn’t part of the reason why.”

She frowned. “Kenny—”

“Just hear me out,” he gently cut her off, and she pursed her lips. But she let him continue. “Best Friends are actually supposed to be your best friends, right? But when was the last time any of them checked in on you? I know Chuck did for a while, but Trent? He’s been a complete asshole to you.”

Alex fidgeted, her chest tightening. His words were like salt in a wound—but he wasn’t wrong. At first, Chuck had checked in on her fairly regularly… but his texts and FaceTime calls had tapered off after the first couple months. At the time, she’d just chalked it up to circumstance. She was out of sight and out of mind, and he and Orange had been put through more than their fair share of bullshit by Miro, Kip, and Penelope after Trent had torn his pec muscle in December. She couldn’t really blame him for going quiet.

But then, two months ago, Trent had returned with Kris in tow—and Alex hadn’t been able to chalk it up to circumstance any longer. And when Kris seemingly became an official member of Best Friends, she couldn’t ignore the twinge of jealousy in her gut, either. She felt forgotten. Replaced in person just as much as she had been on the Best Friends t-shirt. And the thing of it was, none of them seemed to even miss her.

Least of all Trent.

Kenny squeezed her hands, redrawing her attention. “Look… I’m not trying to turn you against them. But I can see how hurt you are by how they’ve acted over the last couple months, and it kills me. And yeah, it pisses me off, too. So… why not come out there with me tonight, looking absolutely fucking fantastic, and show Best Friends just how good you’re doing without them?”

Alex’s brow furrowed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a petty part of her that wanted to do exactly that. But the softer side of her just wanted her friends back.

“I get what you’re saying, I just... I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“I know you do,” he sympathetically returned. “But I’m not asking you to go out there and try to keep Orange from winning. I just want you in my corner. And maybe I want to show you off a little bit, too.”

He grinned and pulled her closer, and Alex couldn’t help the coy smile that pulled at her lips. Through all their ups and downs, Kenny had never failed to make her feel special; wanted. She didn’t take that for granted—especially not now.

“I did bring a really cute outfit to wear,” she said, sliding her hands up his arms. “It would be a shame if it went to waste.”

His smile widened. “Well then you gotta wear it.”

Alex bit her lip in thought. But she didn’t think for long. She put her hands on either side of his face and gave him a tender kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

Kenny gripped her waist. “Of course, I do. I love you, too,” he returned, and he kissed her again. “Come on, you should go get ready,” he said with a pat on her backside. And as they left the exam room, Alex knew that accompanying Kenny for his match was the right decision.

It was the potential consequences that worried her.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you!”

That was what Stella had proclaimed when Alex walked into hair and makeup. It was followed by a chorus of more of the same, a parade of hugs from everyone in the room—and dozens of questions.

“How are you? You look incredible!”

“Is your shoulder cleared?”

“So, are you officially living with Kenny now?”

“I’ve been dying to know how you feel about everything going on with him.”

And Alex had done her best to field each one of them.

“I’m doing pretty well, and thanks. It seems like I’ve been filling all my free time with working out.”

“No… not yet. But hopefully in the next few weeks.”

“I mean, not officially. I still have my house in Virginia—my cousin’s been renting it out. But I don’t know. It feels like I’ve officially moved in.”

“It is what it is. He’s just being Kenny Omega.”

Thankfully, no one pressed her on that last one.

Instead, Stella was all too happy to dish on all the latest and juiciest backstage news and gossip. Anna Jay and Jungle Boy were an item. Cody had estranged himself from nearly everyone. Callie had left AEW and pro wrestling altogether—and moved in with Cash. Alex had already known about that one, but it was still strange to hear. Looking back, it was hard to believe her friendship with Callie and relationship with Cash had ever even happened at all. It felt like another life; another time.

“You’re all done, my dear,” Stella said. She handed her a mirror—and Alex was taken aback by her own reflection. Long, sleek dark brown hair; glowing fair skin; pouty nude lips; a sexy reverse cat eye that made her hazel eyes pop. She sat up a little straighter. For perhaps the first time in months, she felt herself again.

She thanked Stella and hopped out of the chair, a pep in her step as she went out the door—

“Alex?!”

She halted in her tracks. Even though she hadn’t heard it in forever, she’d recognize that voice anywhere—Kris. She held her breath and turned around; but relaxed in relief. It was just her and Orange. At least she wouldn’t have to face them all at once.

“Holy shit!” She hurried over and wrapped her in a tight hug before she could even blink. Alex was stiff and awkward as she returned it. She hadn’t expected that reaction.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d be here tonight?” Kris asked as she stepped back from her. Alex hesitated to answer.

“Um, I thought about it. But given why I’m here…”

She trailed off and looked awkwardly at Jim. He shrugged. “It’s business,” he returned. “So I guess this means you’ll be in Kenny’s corner tonight?”

Alex crossed an arm over herself and nervously fidgeted with the skin on her elbow. She nodded. Jim’s expression remained as indecipherable as ever.

“And you look hot as fuck,” Kris perceptively interjected. “Seriously, I think I might be questioning my sexuality.”

Alex breathed a laugh—

“You should come say hi to Chuck and Trent! Trent’s gonna shit himself.”

Just like that, her smile vanished. Her lips parted in silent question, uncertain if Kris was being serious. But she looked too genuinely excited not to be.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex said. “I mean, considering the last time I talked to Trent…”

She trailed off and looked down at her shoes. There had been things said by both her and Trent in the heat of the moment that had made an already uncomfortable situation worse. They hadn’t spoken in more than five months, since right before he’d gotten injured. She didn’t think now was the time to start.

“Trent has his head up his ass,” Jim said, and Alex flicked her eyes back up at him, surprised. “You know how he is with this stuff. You’ll probably have to be the bigger person.”

Alex sighed. He was probably right. But again—tonight wasn’t the night. “Now’s just not the time,” she remorsefully returned. “But I’ll see you out there. Good luck—really.”

And before either of them could say anything else, she turned and continued down the hall, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out there… you’re gonna distract me walking around like this.”

Alex looked at Kenny through the mirror as he sidled up behind her. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her neck, and she tilted her head so he could press his lips against her skin.

“It's too late,” she returned. “I’ve already gone through all the trouble of getting ready.”

Kenny hummed. “Well, I can take it all off for you, if you want.”

He nipped her neck, and she smirked and squirmed. Her mood had completely turned around from earlier in the night; it was amazing what a little hair and makeup and the right outfit could do. The white bustier-style crop top she wore wasn’t her usual style, but it showed off the hard work she’d put in at the gym—and it didn’t hurt that it made her boobs look amazing. And even though she’d made the outfit more “her” with a pair of distressed boyfriend jeans and her white low-top Chucks, Kenny was right—they probably wouldn’t recognize her out there.

But truth be told, she’d never felt more confident.

“You can later,” she smirked, and she felt a low growl rumble in his bare chest.

“Get a room!”

Alex rolled her eyes. Matt’s voice was an unwelcome interruption from across the locker room. She’d almost forgotten that he and Nick were there.

Kenny shot a glare over his shoulder. “Why are you looking?”

Matt opened his mouth, but two quick knocks on the door cut him off before he could make a smart-ass retort, and then Don Callis walked in.

“We’re up, Ken.”

Kenny smirked at Alex. “Let’s go give the people what they really want.”

He picked up his AEW World Championship, and she helped him secure it around his waist, followed by the Impact World Championship, which he strapped across his chest. Then, he picked up the AAA Mega Championship and old TNA World Heavyweight Championship and held them in each of his hands. And Alex had to admit—it was an impressive sight, Kenny draped in championship gold. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on.

“How do I look?” he asked her.

She bit her lip. “Good. Really good.”

He grinned, cocky.

They started for the door; but before Alex could follow Don and Kenny out, Matt stopped her. “Alex.” He pushed himself up from his chair and cast Nick a glance. He stood too. She rolled her eyes. They weren’t subtle at all.

Matt gave her a discerning look. “You are one-hundred percent in Kenny’s corner… right?”

Her brow lowered dangerously. Was he really questioning her loyalty now? “Are you serious?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Well… I know Orange is one of your best friends—”

“Or he was,” Nick interjected.

“—and I just want to make sure that there aren’t any conflicts of interest.”

He smirked, obnoxiously smacking his gum between his teeth. Alex bit down on her jaw. She’d thought that maybe—maybe—Callie’s departure and her relationship with Kenny would have led her and Matt to at least be friendly with each other. But she’d thought wrong.

She gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Matt. The only conflict going on here is the one between what you think that outfit looks like and what it actually looks like.”

He abruptly stopped chewing his gum. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Alex was already out the door. She caught up with Kenny and fell in step beside him. “Forget something?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just got held up.”

They arrived at Gorilla, and Don went on and on talking Kenny up, boosting his confidence, assuring that neither Orange nor PAC stood a chance; but Alex tuned him out, nervously looking around. Waiting. And then she saw them: Orange, Chuck, Kris, and Trent.

Her heart jumped into her throat when her eyes met Chuck’s. He flashed her a smile; but it wasn’t as wide or as bright as she was used to.

“Hey. It’s good to see you,” he said, and he gave her arm a squeeze as he passed. She said nothing in response—just a tight grin of acknowledgement. Entirely impersonal compared to how they used to greet each other.

It’s the circumstances, she tried to tell herself.

Orange and Kris greeted her in much the same way, with awkward half-smiles as they walked by; Kris seemed apologetic, for some reason. And then, Trent reached her. His expression was cold, his eyes hard, and then he muttered underneath his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, “Thanks for telling us you’d be here.”

He kept walking, not waiting for her to even process what he’d said, and Alex’s heart sunk petrified into the pit of her stomach.

This was how things were now. She felt stupid for hoping for different.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had known it would be difficult to be ringside for this match. But, sixteen minutes into it, she hadn’t realized it would be this difficult.

PAC laid on his back, staring up at the lights courtesy of a bridging deadlift suplex into a pin attempt from Kenny. So, with him taken care of for the moment, Kenny turned his attention to Orange. He pulled his right kneepad down, and Alex had to stop herself from watching through her fingers as he kneed Orange hard in the face, once, and then again. She could feel the eyes of the fans at ringside watching her with keen interest, trying to gauge her reactions. They’d been shocked to see her come out with Kenny, and now her presence provided them with an extra layer of entertainment. At least Chuck, Trent, and Kris weren’t at ringside, too; they’d walked Orange out and promptly disappeared backstage. Alex didn’t know what she would have done if they’d stayed.

Kenny backed toward the ropes, aiming to deliver a third and final V-Trigger. But before he could, Orange held up his hands as if to tell him “stop.” And then he plunged them into his pant pockets and fell facedown onto the mat.

Kenny laughed, but he couldn’t care less. He walked over and started to pick Orange up; but then a revived PAC grabbed him and hit him with a hard forearm. They traded blows and kicks in the middle of the ring until Orange suddenly intervened and hit Kenny with a Michinoku Driver. However, Kenny rolled away and PAC hit Orange with a brainbuster. He covered him, but Orange thankfully kicked out at two.

Alex put her hand on Kenny’s shoulder as he laid underneath the ropes, halfway out of the ring. “Are you alright?”

But he didn’t answer her question. Instead, he said, “Go get one of my belts.”

She looked back at him in confusion. “What?”

“Go get one of my belts in case.”

Alex blinked and shook her head. She could not believe what he was asking her to do. “What? No, Kenny, I’m not doing that. You don’t need—”

But he rolled away, back underneath the ropes into the ring. PAC and Orange were in a precarious position on the top turnbuckle closest to them. It looked like PAC was trying to execute a superplex—but Kenny jumped up and shoved PAC off-balance, causing Orange to tumble from his grip and bounce off the ring apron to the floor. Alex started to check on him—but then she remembered she wasn’t out there for him and stopped short. She ran her hands over her hair, helpless. Inwardly hoping that he was alright.

Meanwhile, PAC had reversed Kenny’s attempt at a One-Winged Angel from the top turnbuckle and sent him sailing across the ring via a sunset flip powerbomb. They stood atop the opposite turnbuckle now, and Alex’s eyes widened in horror when PAC delivered an avalanche Falcon Arrow. But then, Orange suddenly scrambled back into the ring, tossed PAC out, and hooked Kenny’s leg. Every single person packed into Daily’s Place jumped from their seats as Bryce Remsburg slid to the mat and started to count. Kenny barely kicked out before three. Alex leaned her elbows on the ring apron, her head in her hands. That had been way too close.

All around her the fans started chanting, “That was three!” booming in her ears, and she bit down on her jaw. Kenny rolled out of the ring and stumbled over to her. For some reason, she already knew what for.

“Alex, go get one of my belts,” he said again. It was an order, not a question. But she stood her ground.

“No! I’m not helping you win like that!”

He let out a frustrated huff. “Baby, now’s not the time to argue about this. Just go get—”

She cut him off with a gasp as PAC came flying over the top rope headed straight for them. Kenny shoved her out of the way at the last second, taking all the impact himself and getting knocked to the floor. PAC, meanwhile, sprung back up and to the top turnbuckle. He slowly stood—and when Alex saw him jump into the air and perform the Black Arrow, she knew she had just seconds to act. She jumped over Kenny and rounded the turnbuckle as PAC hooked Orange’s leg. And just before Bryce could count three, she grabbed Orange’s boot and put it on the bottom rope.

Bryce stopped the count and pointed at Orange’s foot, none the wiser to what had happened. The fans, on the other hand, showered Alex with thunderous boos. Realizing what she’d done, PAC turned and shot her a glower that seemed almost inhuman. But she just pursed her lips and raised her chin in defiance.

Kenny pulled himself up by the ropes and ducked back into the ring, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, and the match went on, back and forth between him and PAC—until Orange scored another near-fall after he hit Kenny with a frantic Beach Break. PAC then tried for a Liger Bomb on Orange, but he fought out of it and landed a hard Orange Punch across his jaw, dropping him to the mat. Then he gave one to Kenny, and the crowd came unglued.

Orange fed off their energy, pumping himself up as PAC staggered to his feet. He hit another Orange Punch and went for the pin. Time seemed to stop as Alex watched, her heart in her throat and her hands on her head. She didn’t want Kenny to lose at all, let alone like this. But just as Bryce started the count, Don appeared out of nowhere and pulled him from the ring by his ankles.

Alex stood frozen to her spot as Bryce and Don yelled at each other, and she fully expected the former to expel the latter from ringside—but he didn’t. He simply got back in the ring, and the match continued. Don walked toward Alex, straightening his suit jacket. “Good work putting Orange’s foot on the ropes,” he said to her.

She didn’t say anything in return. She didn’t want a compliment from the likes of him.

Back in the ring, Kenny had been knocked to the floor once again—and PAC had the Brutalizer locked on Orange. When Kenny finally made it back through the ropes, he kicked PAC in the face once, twice. But he didn’t let go of his hold on Orange. So instead, Kenny made the desperate decision to hit Bryce with a hard double axe handle to the back.

The crowd booed, and Alex hid her face in her hands. “Come on, Ken…” she breathed. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Don took the initiative to do what Kenny had been asking Alex to do all along. He grabbed the Impact Championship from the timekeeper’s area and tossed it to Kenny in the ring. Kenny caught it, and then he turned and clocked PAC over the head. He dropped like dead weight to the mat, and Kenny tossed the belt aside, the fans still booing all the while.

But apparently, one belt wasn’t enough.

Don tossed in the Triple A Mega Championship next, and as PAC staggered to his feet, Kenny hit him again. Then he threw in the TNA World Heavyweight Championship. Alex had to bite her lip to keep from shouting at Kenny to stop. She looked away just before he hit PAC a third time.

Finally, Don handed Kenny the AEW World Championship. He took it and held it high above his head, gloating, reveling in the crowd’s hatred. Somehow, PAC was still moving, trying to stay in the match. But just as he climbed to his feet for a third time, Kenny hit him again and knocked him down for good.

Kenny held the championship up again, parading around the ring. He didn’t notice Orange darting toward him until it was too late. He laid him out with another Orange Punch across the jaw.

Orange crawled toward Kenny, obviously going for the pin; but Bryce was still down from Kenny’s earlier attack. However, it didn’t matter. As soon as he draped himself across Kenny’s chest, Aubrey ran down to the ring. Alex grabbed her own throat as she counted.

One.

Two—

But unexpectedly, Kenny reversed the pin and rolled Orange’s shoulders to the mat in a crucifix. Aubrey counted again.

One.

Two.

Three.

That was it. The bell rung, and Kenny’s music started. Alex let out a breath. He’d won by the skin of his fucking teeth.

She and Don both rushed to Kenny’s side as Justin Roberts officially announced him the winner. He clutched his jaw, and somehow his left hand had been sliced open. “What happened?” she asked, looking over the blood on his fingers with concern. But he wasn’t able to answer her before they were suddenly swarmed by both the Young Bucks and the Good Brothers. Matt and Nick practically pushed her aside as they congratulated Kenny, and Nick and Karl Anderson put an arm each over their shoulders and helped him up the steps to the entrance ramp. And as they all celebrated, reveling in Kenny’s stolen victory, Alex felt a sourness curdle at the back of her throat.

She was in love with Kenny. He’d come to mean the world to her over the last nine months. But she hadn’t signed up for this world.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

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__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe.